Pictorial Review

I've had some difficulty posting photos over the past five weeks, so finally, here is a pictorial review of my time in Uganda. I had to greatly reduce the size of the pictures in order to post them, so the quality is a bit grainy, sorry.


My good friend Lamech.


One of my favorite kids Kemanuel. He is always smiling and his nose is always running.


Heidi Lutjens & Pat Abbott


My neighbors, Gonja and Charity


Neighbors and friends, Edmond and his son Ngime


Janet - malnourished patient


Scott & Jennifer Myhre


Paediatric Ward


Peds patient back from the brink of death.


780 gram premature infant

Children

Children

I like parties. I like having fun. My gifts of entertaining and encouraging have often come in handy when hosting others.

I have a desire to love children and show them through my actions and inactions that they are loved, I am proud of them, and they are children of God. I never want a child to think that they are worthless and unlovable. Few things break my heart more than a child who feels helpless, hopeless, and unwanted.

Much of my life has been spent working alongside children – a Sunday school teacher, a camp counselor, working in pediatric rehabilitation, and now working in the acute pediatric ward. I love kids.

This weekend I had a “Fall Festival” for the local kids. Its purpose was twofold, to honor and love on the children, and to satisfy my love of Autumn in America. The kids made a beautiful deciduous tree that now sheds leaves daily on my living room floor, a splattering of yellow, orange, and red randomly strewn about. They stuffed scarecrows, a male and female pot-bellied pair that ordained my lawn. They laughed and cheered as they joined in the relay races, and even Aligonilia, a child who has escaped death numerous times, joined in and laughed raucously. What an indescribable joy to see a child barely alive one week, me desperately crying out to God for his return to life, and now witnessing him running around and laughing like a healthy child, even though he is far from “healthy”. Amazing.

It was a great day, and I am so very thankful for God’s abundant provision. I hope these children felt how much we, the World Harvest Mission team, love and appreciate them. For at least one afternoon, they were lifted high and revered.

I often think of myself as a child, longing to run into God’s lap. When I am most desperate and fall into fits of despair, God reminds me of His love, how proud of me He is, and how much He longs to welcome me home.

Grief and Joy

27 October 2009

Grief and Joy

A few mornings ago I woke up discontent, something I am not usually prone to, but nonetheless it was the state of mind that morn. As I lay in bed I consider the day ahead – rounding on the pediatric ward, playing with the local kids, greeting neighbors, cooking a meal for Uganda friends, and trying to write some. All good prospects on most days, however I left a very sickle and fragile child, Aligonilia, clinging to life on the pediatric ward the day before and was fearful he may have departed this world during the night. His plight worsened in knowing that I attended the burial of his brother, Ammon, the day I arrived in Uganda nearly one month ago. His other brother, Daniel, also a very good friend to me, died one week after I left Uganda in 2008. Aligonilia’s father, Chris, has lost six children in his lifetime. I cannot imagine losing one child, let alone six. My limited perspective sights this as too much grief for any one person to bear.

When I arrived on the pediatric ward I found Aligonilia alive and somehow better, though still very ill. My heart leapt to see him sitting up and moving, something unlikely only one day before. I thanked God to see his face again, here, alive on this earth.

When I went home later that day, I asked some of the local kids, Aligonilia’s friends, if they would help me make a giant get well poster. It was awesome! The kids gladly obliged and went to work coloring, painting, and plastering stickers on the sign. Two of the children involved in creating the poster came with me to the pediatric ward to deliver it to Aligonilia. He smiled when he saw the poster and he saw his friends. It was a joy to see.

Aligonilia is still sick, still very anemic, and still on the pediatric ward, but he is smiling now and able to walk around. There is joy in redemption, there is joy in life, but I must not forget that experiencing the grief makes the joy somehow sweeter and fuller. God’s plans are not mine, and I must respect them whatever they are. I am beginning to experience and praise God more in grief and weakness, whereas before I only thanked him in times of joy. It is a difficult thing for me to learn, but God is revealing more of himself through the process. So in and for grief and joy, I thank God.

On Thievery

October 26, 2009

On Thievery

A few days ago I woke up with a feeling of despair and deflation. The previous day I discovered money had been stolen from me, again. Why would someone steal money from me? Why would they do it three times over three weeks? How did they get into my house each time? As these thoughts flooded me in the early morn, and I began to wonder why I freely chose to come back to Uganda, God convicted me of my own self-righteousness and led me to pray for the thief.

Prayer led me to feel sorry for the thief. At least he did not steal all my money, and he did not take anything else, except a freshly baked loaf of bread, as my computer and camera were easily within his reach. He must be really hungry. Hopefully all the money went towards food. I somehow began to rationalize the theft, and was convinced that this was just a very minor setback in my journey. I also pondered leaving a note in my underwear drawer in case the thief returned. Each time money went missing I discovered that he went through all my drawers, most notably my sock and underwear drawer.

As I pondered what I would want to tell the thief in letter form, I concluded it would go something like this:

Dear Thief (Thieves),

Thank you for not taking all my money, I appreciate your kindness in that regard. However, I am slightly bothered that you broke into my house on three separate occasions, each time during daylight hours, and scoured through my drawers. For all I know you may be wearing some of my underwear and socks right now. I hope you like them.

I prayed for you today. I feel sorry for you. You must be really hungry or really bored to break into my house, especially during the day. I hope you are someone I don’t know, though my suspicion is that you may be someone that knows me well. My assumption is that you have been watching me very closely, as you seem to know exactly when I will be leaving my house and the precise time in which I will return. You are very observant. I also hope you enjoyed the bread you stole, it was just baked that morning. That particular type of bread goes well with honey and butter (which we have, should you decide to visit us again).

When my roommate Nathan spoke to one of the kids about previous thefts, the young boy replied “The thief will meet God someone day, and He will send him to burn in the fire.” I hope that is not true. If you don’t know Jesus, I would love to tell you about him some time. He’s a really cool guy that changed my life forever. He can change your life too.

Thanks for taking the time to read this letter. Sorry, I don’t know Lubwisi well enough to write this note in that language, so please forgive me – I am trying, “slowly, slowly” as they say here to learn the language.

I forgive you for stealing from me, but I would prefer it not happen again. Feel free to stop by when I am home sometime, as I would be happy to bake you a loaf of friendship bread

Sincerely,

Your Supplier of Bread and Cash (Your “SBC”)

Life And Living

Life & Living

The two children mentioned in my previous posts have both recovered and were discharged from the pediatric ward! Thank you for you prayers! I’m always encouraged to see children make drastic recoveries, and I thank Jesus for his grace and mercy in allowing them to recover. Unfortunately, for every child that recovers there are more that are just as sick and many that do not survive.

I’m continuing to discover my daily role and schedule, and I’m starting to see more adult patients in addition to the kids. There is a physician assistant student from Arcadia University, Dan Thrush, whom recently arrived and is inspiring me to learn as well. I just hope I can teach him something in return!

I am increasingly aware of my growing desire to share and show love, mercy, and grace to the people I encounter each day. I enjoy medicine, but it is not my primary focus. If I help heal a sick child, but they do not know Jesus, what is the impact of my role? I absolutely see the need for medical care, but more so, I sense and want to be involved in sharing Jesus’ love, mercy, and grace. I desire to help heal broken souls, spirits, and health. I’m so very thankful for the opportunities God has given me, but I know there are other opportunities I am missing. I pray my eyes may be opened to those around me.

-Scott

Where I Need To Be

The days continue to pass as I seek to find my role. The past week the Myhres have been gone, requesting that Heidi (RN) and I handle the pediatric ward in their absence – no small request, but glad for the opportunity to help. The number of patients have ranged from 30-50 each day, some critically ill and some not so bad.

Yesterday I sent a very healthy looking, energetic, smiley boy of two home , only to discover he had come back to the ward in the middle of the night, now deathly ill, gasping and panting with each labored breath. What happened? I don’t know. I only pray that the child is still alive when I enter the swinging blue, broken doors of the ward tomorrow. I also cry out to Jesus that the young infant girl who had seizures constantly yesterday, also clinging to dear life, will somehow be made well.

I am reminded of a young boy, Birungi Swezen that I encountered nearly 18 months ago in the same pediatric ward. Never before I had I seen such a child, more dead than alive, five years old and just over 10 pounds. It was speculated he would be dead in a few hours, if not minutes. I had little hope. The nurses could get no IV in his fragile body, but somehow I managed an external jugular in the neck. I left that day with full expectation that Birungi would not survive to see me again. Somehow he did. And another day. And another day. A few weeks later I left Uganda, with Birungi still in the peds ward. I later saw a picture of him, several months after our first encounter. I cried. The picture showed a beautiful looking child, with smooth skin, healthy, hair, and walking! Walking!

The dead can be raised to life. I cling to that. I too was once dead, but am now alive.

I am thankful to be back in this place. Death and disease are so very visible here, frustrations often abound, and there is something so real, so palpable about the necessity of Jesus in my own life. You may never understand why I am here, maybe I will never fully comprehend either, but this is where I need to be.

-Scott

Down On The Farm

October 5, 2009
Volume 3, Issue 2

Down On The Farm

I’ve continued to rejoice as I’ve been reconnected with friends. Their smiles, cheer, laughter, and enthusiasm is a reflection of how I feel seeing them. As the joys flow freely throughout my day, there are also the realities of a broken world. A child born premature, now ten days old, weighing only 785 grams (<2 pounds), with no incubator or specialized monitoring equipment to help the child grow and flourish. A malnourished, beautiful little 2 year old girl on the pediatric ward weighed only 5.5 kg, which is 2 kg (4.4. pounds) less than when I saw her 18 months ago! The war rages on…

A highlight of the day was helping with chickens! My parents would be so proud. Growing up I lived on a farm in Ohio, and among some of the numerous animals we had was 40,000+ chickens. Today I helped the local agricultural workers Pauline and Besigya, as well as Jack Myhre, catch and vaccinate 200 young chickens. The smell of chickens is reminiscent of childhood; that, mixed with Jack trying to make the chickens talk to and kiss me, only added to the memories of the day. We ran out of the vaccine early so we get to catch and vaccinate the remaining 100 chickens tomorrow!

It’s good to be back in Uganda. I have much to learn, and no doubt many frustrations and stress ahead of me, but for now I am basking in the delight of reunions with friends and silly games with kids.