Well, it's Friday, and I'm sitting comfortably on the couch in my cabin on board the Africa Mercy, mulling over the events of the last few days, once again completely amazed by God.
For those of you with long memories (or at least memories longer than mine at the moment; everything they say about pregnancy in that area is true), you'll remember that I was meant to be leaving yesterday. In fact, if I'm doing the math right, I would be about halfway across the Atlantic right now if all had gone according to plan. My plan.
Not His.
Because apparently it's also true what they say about God's plans; they're way better than ours.
As of Tuesday morning, I was fully expecting to get on that plane last night. And then things changed, as things so often do around here. I'm not going to get into the whys and hows; suffice it to say that before I could really wrap my head around it, my ticket had been changed to Monday night. A glorious four-day reprieve, another long weekend to spend with the HoJ before we're separated for ten whole weeks at a time when we'd really much rather be together.
And here's where God come in. Because while I was selfishly celebrating the fact that I get to put off leaving a few days, He was pulling together so many threads in a much bigger story.
Tuesday afternoon, once it was clear that my departure date was changing, I got a call from D Ward. Dr. James is here and he'd like to see you. Dr. James is a Togolese maxillofacial surgeon who Dr. Gary works with every time we come to port here in Togo, and he and I have been trying unsuccessfully to set up a meeting with some other local healthcare professionals for the last several weeks. I ran down to the ward fully intending to make my apologies and tell him that there just wasn't time when I realized that, with my ticket changing, I had all the time in the world.
We don't have a speech therapist on board these days, and so all of the much-needed therapy for our cleft lip and palate patients comes through me. I was trained by the former Team Leader who was trained by our former speech therapist, and you can see where the system might not be quite perfect. Wednesday afternoon, when I was supposed to be packing my things, I met with a local speech therapist and his student advisee. We reviewed our program to ensure that we've been doing the right thing with our patients, and then sat together and worked out a plan for them to continue seeing our patients for therapy long after the ship sails away.
Thursday, when I was supposed to be heading down the gangway, I collected a list of all our patients from this year. The therapist is going to contact all of the old patients to see if they want follow-up, and we'll automatically refer all the new ones to him when they're discharged between now and the end of the year.
If I had been leaving last night, I would have said no to the meeting on Wednesday. I wouldn't have had time to set up the referral or collect information or do any of a hundred things I ended up doing yesterday.
God's plans are so much bigger than mine. I just wanted to hang out with my husband, but God used the extra time to work things together for the good of our patients.
And this morning, when I stopped by D Ward to make sure the charge nurse knew I was available if needed, Esther's nurse called me over. Esther was sitting up in a chair, a cover over the trach that she's been breathing through for the past couple of weeks.
Hello Ali, she said, her voice small and muffled around the tube that's going to be coming out later this afternoon. It's the first time she's been able to speak to me since we stood at the foot of her bed and got her permission to do the surgery that would change her life. And if I had gotten on that plane last night, I would never have heard her voice again.
My heart is full of these unexpected blessings. God, it seems, has opened His hand over me and is pouring out love in such an extravagant manner that it's all I can do to keep upright under the flood.
For those of you with long memories (or at least memories longer than mine at the moment; everything they say about pregnancy in that area is true), you'll remember that I was meant to be leaving yesterday. In fact, if I'm doing the math right, I would be about halfway across the Atlantic right now if all had gone according to plan. My plan.
Not His.
Because apparently it's also true what they say about God's plans; they're way better than ours.
As of Tuesday morning, I was fully expecting to get on that plane last night. And then things changed, as things so often do around here. I'm not going to get into the whys and hows; suffice it to say that before I could really wrap my head around it, my ticket had been changed to Monday night. A glorious four-day reprieve, another long weekend to spend with the HoJ before we're separated for ten whole weeks at a time when we'd really much rather be together.
And here's where God come in. Because while I was selfishly celebrating the fact that I get to put off leaving a few days, He was pulling together so many threads in a much bigger story.
Tuesday afternoon, once it was clear that my departure date was changing, I got a call from D Ward. Dr. James is here and he'd like to see you. Dr. James is a Togolese maxillofacial surgeon who Dr. Gary works with every time we come to port here in Togo, and he and I have been trying unsuccessfully to set up a meeting with some other local healthcare professionals for the last several weeks. I ran down to the ward fully intending to make my apologies and tell him that there just wasn't time when I realized that, with my ticket changing, I had all the time in the world.
We don't have a speech therapist on board these days, and so all of the much-needed therapy for our cleft lip and palate patients comes through me. I was trained by the former Team Leader who was trained by our former speech therapist, and you can see where the system might not be quite perfect. Wednesday afternoon, when I was supposed to be packing my things, I met with a local speech therapist and his student advisee. We reviewed our program to ensure that we've been doing the right thing with our patients, and then sat together and worked out a plan for them to continue seeing our patients for therapy long after the ship sails away.
Thursday, when I was supposed to be heading down the gangway, I collected a list of all our patients from this year. The therapist is going to contact all of the old patients to see if they want follow-up, and we'll automatically refer all the new ones to him when they're discharged between now and the end of the year.
If I had been leaving last night, I would have said no to the meeting on Wednesday. I wouldn't have had time to set up the referral or collect information or do any of a hundred things I ended up doing yesterday.
God's plans are so much bigger than mine. I just wanted to hang out with my husband, but God used the extra time to work things together for the good of our patients.
And this morning, when I stopped by D Ward to make sure the charge nurse knew I was available if needed, Esther's nurse called me over. Esther was sitting up in a chair, a cover over the trach that she's been breathing through for the past couple of weeks.
Hello Ali, she said, her voice small and muffled around the tube that's going to be coming out later this afternoon. It's the first time she's been able to speak to me since we stood at the foot of her bed and got her permission to do the surgery that would change her life. And if I had gotten on that plane last night, I would never have heard her voice again.
My heart is full of these unexpected blessings. God, it seems, has opened His hand over me and is pouring out love in such an extravagant manner that it's all I can do to keep upright under the flood.