Two hands

You could say I've had a bit of a mental block lately. I could blame it on the anti sea-sickness meds (on day 4 of our 12 day sail), or the constant rocking of the boat (which has increased ever so slightly since we turned North past Liberia this morning). Really though, its hard to explain how I'm feeling. This blog is generally my outlet, my 'therapy', my way of processing whats going on. Lately though, well, I don't really know whats going on. I suppose I'm between two vastly different worlds. I left Africa, where my heart aches to be back already, and I long to be home so much it hurts equally as much
Whats been best are the moments I let my mind go back to Africa. I can close my eyes and remember the kids, their wide smiles and incredible ability to love so deeply. I think about Luc and Maurice, Rachelle, and Anicette. I pray for them, I silently stand on the bow of the ship, sailing towards the sunset, and communicate with God. I am perfectly content, yet I ponder so much.

About halfway through this outreach I started making note of the things God has used me to do this year. People talk plenty about being the hands and feet of Jesus, an abstract thought unless you put it into the context of your own life. In no particular order, these are the things God chose for me to do after I told Him to use me in whatever capacity He saw fit.

With my two hands, I;
~Decorated plastic cups with stickers for 4 year old boys not keen on the idea of drinking after major surgery.
~Handed out medication in hot cement rooms, marking the bags under the different stages of the sun rising and setting to indicate when to take the small pills.
~Took a bag of warm blood and hung it above a dying patient, squeezing it into his body through his IV while praying he would make it. He did.
~Held the hand of a woman while she miscarried, and cried with her over the loss of a child she had already named.
~Carried baby Hubert around D ward for hours, staring into his liquid black eyes, marveling at his sweet demeanor.
~Felt the weight of sweet baby Hubert after he went home to Jesus and I held him in my arms.
~Tickled countless kids and waved to every single one who frantically waved at the yovo driving by.
~Ran my fingers up and down Glory's arm, and found absolute peace and confirmation with my life. I learned sacrifice is beautiful, which is turn doesn't make it sacrifice at all.
~Ate a peanut butter and jelly sandwich made by my own mom and couldn't stop smiling over the fact she was with me for what was my favorite month all year.
~Picked through hundreds of yards of bright African fabric, choosing my favorites and imaging what I would make out of each one.
~Bandaged little Maurice's eye after kisses and reassurances I would be gentle so as not to hurt him.
~Held the shoulders of Maddie's father while he held her during her last breaths.
~Carried Maddie through the ship and into the car, securing her back into her fathers arm for the ride home where we would tell her mother the harsh news.
~Placed my hands on countless patients and called on God.
~Raised my hands in absolute surrender to my King, to my God who I love more than ever.
~Ran my finger across the page of Psalm 71 while giving my testimony to an African church.
~Drew blood on Luc and Rachelle, placed IV's on the little ones in the ward, all with the promise of stickers and kisses to make up from my horrible betrayal of their sweet trust.
~Held up little Enock while he sipped Coca Cola the days before his death.
~Accepted the gift of earrings from Enock's mom, her determined way to thank us for being with her while she faced a year of watching her youngest son die.
~Wiped hours of tears from my face.
~Ran my fingers across the toes of baby Anicette while visiting her village, coveting every second I was able to hold her.
~Held on for dear life to the back of a motorcycle(whose driver was sporting a leopard print cowboy hat), my first and only time ever. Ok, it wasn't the only time, we took zemis to the pool another day too. I am SO sorry mom...(and if you are reading this as a representative of my travel insurance, I'm totally kidding. I would never do something so reckless)

My point in all of this? I am the most unlikely character for this job. I didn't earn the privilege of working in Africa, I don't deserve a life that is, well, amazing. I don't measure up to other people doing this same work. I am no different from anyone reading this (I guarentee my past life can rival many of you who role their eyes at that statement). And my point is just that. When I gave up myself and let God take control, He did all this. I gave Him my hands and feet and asked Him to show me what to do. It is that simple. I listened, and I gained life. I was taught how to love, what it means to truly live.