My Soul Glorifies the Lord

This time of year, we spend a lot of time talking about Mary – a very young woman, pregnant out of wedlock, giving birth in a stable. We talk a lot about the joy she must have felt – the joy of being a mother, the joy of knowing that God was using her to bring his son into the world. Lately, though, I've started to wonder about the things Mary feared. She had been promised wonderful things, but she was also promised pain: “And a sword will pierce your own soul too" (Luke 2:35).

If there's one thing basically every mother I've ever met has in common, it's that they worry. And the worries of a mother in the developing world are on a whole different scale from those of many of the mothers I know. Did these things bother Mary, too? Mary's first response to the angel was, after all, to be "greatly troubled" (Luke 1:29).

I wonder if Mary worried about practical things. In Bolivia, I’ve met mothers who have little to nothing to feed their children, and I wonder if Mary, Joseph, and Jesus ever lacked food. On the journey to Bethlehem and when they fled to Egypt, did they ever wonder where their next meal would come from? They were a poor family, after all. Did Mary ever go without food so that her little boy could eat?

Did Mary worry about the dangers of childbearing? I have no idea what the maternal mortality rate was in the Roman Empire back then, but I imagine it wasn't very good. Did Mary ever worry about if she would survive to see her son grow up, to realize the promises the angel had made? As far as we know, the promises she received included nothing about what would happen to her.

Mary must have had at least moments of doubt and fear, of wondering how this was all going to work out and if she was doing what it was that God had picked her to do. Yet, in all of this, she sang,

My soul glorifies the Lord
and my spirit rejoices in God my Savior,
for he has been mindful
of the humble state of his servant.
From now on all generations will call me blessed,
for the Mighty One has done great things for me—
holy is his name.
His mercy extends to those who fear him,
from generation to generation.
He has performed mighty deeds with his arm;
he has scattered those who are proud in their inmost thoughts.
He has brought down rulers from their thrones
but has lifted up the humble.
He has filled the hungry with good things
but has sent the rich away empty.
He has helped his servant Israel,
remembering to be merciful
to Abraham and his descendants forever,
even as he said to our fathers.
Luke 1:46-55

This Christmas, I’m praying for a bit more of Mary’s courage, and for all of the mothers around the world who share some of her fears. And I am praising the God who “has filled the hungry with good things” – who sent his Son to become fully human, to share in our sufferings, our hopes, and our joys.

A Confession

I had been in Bolivia for a week and a half when I saw her. It was past dusk, and she sat on the side of the road, weaving on a small hand-held loom. She couldn’t have been more than ten years old.

I walked past. I’d seen this before, in Guatemala, in Mexico, in Bolivia. I knew she would probably sleep on the street, but so would a lot of other kids. There wasn’t anything I could do.

It wasn’t until later that it hit me. I’d become calloused. Things that used to shock me no longer shocked me. I prayed for forgiveness, and I prayed that God would protect her.

It’s hard, when you see things like this on a regular basis, to continue to care. We get used to suffering. To protect ourselves, to be able to keep living our normal lives, we stop letting it bother us.

I decided that night that I never want to become calloused again. I never want to let other people’s pain stop bothering me. With Bob Pierce, the founder of World Vision, I pray, “Let my heart be broken by the things that break the heart of God.”

We have a God who did not just walk past when he saw us alone, sitting in our brokenness and pain. We have a God who came to us in our poverty and need, who made himself one of us in order to save us. I am so glad that he did not just walk on by.

Please Help Me

“Please help me,” she begged. Kneeling before me, tears running down her face, she asked again, “Please help me.”

It was three days before I would leave Bolivia, and I was visiting the home of one of our patients. After welcoming me into the one room where she and her six children slept, she had offered me a glass of juice and begun telling me her story.

She told me of past trauma, of secrets that she had only before revealed to her priest, of the predatory lender for whom she slaved. “Please, just give me the money to pay off my debt,” she asked. “I won’t ask for anything else; just give me the money to pay my debt.”

I didn’t know what to do. Her debt was $1,000, and she was asking me to pay it. I don’t have a thousand dollars just lying around. And, more than that, how was I to know if her story was true? How could I trust that she wasn’t simply trying to manipulate me, a (relatively) wealthy American?

I asked if I could pray for her, and she agreed. As I prayed I couldn’t stop thinking of James 2:15-16, which says, “Suppose a brother or sister is without clothes and daily food. If one of you says to him, ‘Go, I wish you well; keep warm and well fed,’ but does nothing about his physical needs, what good is it?” This question kept echoing in my head. What good was it for me to pray for her, if I did nothing to help her?

I gave her everything I had in my pockets, just reserving enough change for bus fare home. It wouldn’t do much for her and her family, but, if her story of her children going hungry were true, it would at least purchase food for a day or two.

As I left, I promised to pray and to talk to some people and to see what I could do for her. I couldn’t promise to give her a thousand dollars, but I promised to help if I could.

When I got home, exhausted from the effort of listening, praying, and trying to decide what to do, I called my friend Javier, a lawyer. I told him her story, of the 20% per month interest the lender was charging. I hoped Javier would help, as he’d told me before about his interest in providing legal assistance to the poor. I couldn’t think of a better case to start with.

When he heard about the exorbitant interest, Javier confirmed my suspicions. “That’s illegal,” he told me. “5 or 6% is okay, but 20% is not.” He promised me to help her, that he would start the legal proceedings necessary to free her.

I left the following Monday, praying that Javier would be able to help, that, if her story were true, he would be able to take on her opponent and win.

I don’t know what will happen to this woman and her family. Will they lose their home, as they fear? Will she give into the despair that has tempted her to take her own life and that of her youngest children? I pray that the answer to these questions is no. I pray that God will take up her cause, that he will bring justice and set her free. I pray for Javier, that he will be able to pursue this case and win it.

I think that I made the right decision in this case. I think that I have done what I could for this woman and her family, even though it isn’t what she asked me to do. But these are questions I may never know the answer to.

I wish I knew, but I don’t. All I know is that I have entrusted them to my Heavenly Father, and that He loves them and has the power to save them. In that, I put my hope.

Things We Are Thankful For

This Thanksgiving, we'd like to take a minute to stop and reflect on the ways God has blessed our ministry. Here's a brief list of things that Hospitals of Hope is thankful for:

• Our Heavenly Father, whose mercies are new every morning
• The opportunity we have to share his love through this ministry
• The chance we have had over this last year to expand our ministry though Clinics in a Can – and the way this aspect of our ministry continues to grow
• Our partnerships in Liberia, which are growing and bearing fruit
• The gifts of good health, plenty of food, and clean water
• Our amazing international volunteers, who give of their time, their talents, their energy, and their compassion.
• For the way God is working all over the world – bringing us volunteers from all over the US and from as far away as Australia, New Zealand, and Scotland
• Our local volunteers, who have done an amazing job organizing our warehouse, helping build Clinics in a Can, and keeping our office running
• Our interns over the past year – Andrew, Savanna, and Amanda – who have been a huge help and done great work
• Our donors – those who have supported us faithfully for years and those we have just met
• Our local partners in Wichita, like Wesley Medical Center, who has been a huge supporter of our work in Haiti
• Our US staff members, who give so much of themselves to our work
• Our Bolivia staff members, who work hard to serve the community surrounding our hospital
• Guillermo and Claudia, our new guest house hosts, who are going to do a fabulous job
• YOU! Thank you for all that you do to support our ministry!

The Art of Sterility

Check out this blog post by Letitia Juday, one of our volunteers in Bolivia:

On Thursday, November 4, 2010, my life here in Bolivia, and my responsibilities at the hospital, changed suddenly and drastically. Having just left morning rounds to take Conta (one of the two Scottish volunteers helping out for two weeks) in to see a reconstructive surgery on a woman’s humerus, I dressed myself in my little booties and cap and mask like usual and entered the quirofano. I looked at the x-rays on the wall and saw where the woman’s bone was broken in two places close to the elbow, and I watched as the surgeon spread povidona over the woman’s arm to clean it.

That’s when it happened. Nelly, the woman in charge of the quirofano and the first surgical assistant, said something to the doctor about me helping him. Then she began speaking at me, but it’s very difficult for me to understand Spanish which is spoken from under a mask. She motioned for me to remove my ring. At that point I thought she was asking me to put on non-sterile gloves and help clean the woman’s arm. So I reached for the gloves.

“No, no, no!” She shook her head and gestured for me to enter the outer room…where the sinks are! I could not believe what was happening: I was being instructed to wash my hands up to my elbows, be sprayed with iodine, dry my hands with a sterile cloth, be dressed in a sterile gown and gloves, and be the second surgical assistant!

I had seen this done many times. The interns were always the ones who assisted Nelly and the surgeons, but of course, the interns have been gone for more than a week now. There are two interns left, our friends Anghelo and Vladimir, but their expertise is better utilized in the ER or with internalized patients, and they are not always there. I realized as I stood with my hands folded in front of me in all of my sterility, that I was the obvious choice because I speak Spanish and they wouldn’t have to pay me.

I pulled aside ligaments and other tissues with a separator tool (Nelly told me today what it’s called, but I’ve forgotten) and used the aspirator to suck up excess body fluids. I also was in charge of cutting stitches.

I’ve always wondered how, if I get tired of being on my feet long enough to watch most of the surgeries, the surgeons and assistants stand in their gowns under those bright lights for so long without getting tired. And I thought that I would never be able to do because the first time I watched, I passed out. And all the other times, I’ve gotten very tired. But I suppose I have become accustomed to being in that room. Although I was aware of feeling tired and hot, I did not come close to overheating or passing out. I had a job to do, and I fully enjoyed doing it.

The doctors temporarily clamped the bones together and then used screws and a long, narrow plate to permanently fix it. And her bone was fixed.

I wondered if this dream-like experience was a one-time opportunity, or if I would get to assist again. Friday came and went with no surgeries. We had a lovely weekend visiting some Incan ruins, going to the movies, and going to church. But I stayed up late Sunday night and woke up Monday feeling slightly under the weather. So I decided to stay home from rounds and not go over to the hospital until Tuesday. But at 9:00 AM, the Scots came running in, and I heard four beautiful words, “You’re needed in surgery.”

I forgot all about how tired I was and ran to my room to put on my scrubs. Then I ran over to the hospital and went straight to the sink to wash my hands. When I went into the quirofano with my arms dripping iodine, there was Nelly smiling at me (well, her eyes were, anyway- it’s hard to smile at people with a mask on) and holding the sterile towel for me. The surgeons greeted me cheerfully, trying to pronounce my name, which they had learned Thursday, in English. That day I used separators and braced a man’s ankle in various positions as the doctors fixed both the talus and fibula. I learned how to properly trade places with a surgeon (back-to-back) and how to properly hold the scissors and cut stitches. Once again, I was fascinated.

On Monday, I asked the surgeons and Nelly if they wanted me to buy a cell phone so that they could call me at any hour of the day or night to help, and they said “Absolutely.” So Tuesday I bought a pre-paid phone at La Cancha (a large, market district of the city). Tuesday passed with no surgeries, but this morning I was eating breakfast, about to go over to the hospital for rounds when our house phone rang. Leta answered and then turned to me and said the beautiful words, “Tisha, you’re needed in surgery.”

Today, it was a C-Section! I went over long before the surgery started, so Nelly and I got sterile before the surgeons arrived, and she taught me my first thorough lesson in the art of sterility. She told me how to dress myself, how to put sterile gloves on the doctors, how to put the sterile cloths on the table and arrange the gauze and bowls. She taught me the names of instruments as she pull them out and she taught me where each belonged on the table. She taught me about the various types of sutures, and how to open the kit and grab the curved needle with the forceps to get it ready. Then she taught me how to cover the patient with sterile cloths and prepare the electro and the aspirador.

It’s difficult to learn from people who speak Spanish behind masks, but I tried to follow instructions when I understood them and not move if I didn’t. The other obstetrician arrived, we began the surgery, the baby came out, Nelly and I handed it in a sterile cloth to the pediatrician, the placenta came out, and the doctors stitched up uterus, the peritoneal lining, and the muscle and fat layers. Then Nelly was left to do the final skin sutures. After she began, she handed me the tools and told me to do dentrodermico sutures. But I said, “Okay. Teach me how.”

“You mean you don’t already know?”

“No. I can do simple stitches, but that’s all.”

“Oh, well, then give them back. You just watch this time.”

So I watched very closely. At the rate Nelly is rushing me into things, I might be doing sutures before long. But I’m in no hurry; and if I do end up doing them, it will only be under Nelly’s close supervision.

I feel like Nelly’s young padawan, and she is my master. So far, I have been gaining confidence in the art of being sterile. Next, I hope to learn the names of instruments, anticipate surgeon’s needs, and learn to suture. I am so thankful that Nelly fully intends to teach me everything I need to know to be a competent second surgical assistant, and she now has my cell phone number, so tonight, for the first time, I am on call. If there is ever an emergency surgery, I will receive a call and have to go straight over to the hospital. I’m not wishing for bad things to happen, but hopefully my cell phone will be necessary someday soon.

I never expected this glorious responsibility. I never expected to hear so often, “You’re needed in surgery.” I hope I learn as much as I possibly can as I enjoy a front-row seat to these fascinating operations.

Read more about Letitia's experiences on her blog: http://pakasqa.wordpress.com/

Jungle Clinic

The elderly Quechua man hobbled into our clinic supported by two canes. He wore a "Franklin L. Williams Middle School, Class of 2007" shirt, doubtless a donation from the US which obviously did not suit his 98 years. Although walking was a struggle for him, he slowly made his way around the room, greeting all of the volunteers and waiting patients personally. He spoke only Quechua, and his hearing was very poor, so our communication was mediated by a translator shouting into his ear.

This man was one of the 30 patients we treated at our clinic on Saturday in the Chapare, the Bolivian jungle 6 hours from Cochabamba and a major center of cocaine production. Patients began showing up an hour before the clinic was to start, having walked for miles from their homes in the countryside to see the doctor.

Some of these patients had waited too long for medical care. One girl came in with an infection in her foot from a thorn that had punctured her big toe over a month before. Because the infection was so severe, our doctor could only give her antibiotics and a referral to a surgeon in a nearby city. Many came in with vitamin deficiencies, and we gave out shots of vitamin B12 like candy. A few came in with chronic headaches, and, while we gave them pain medication, we also gave them an anti-parasitic drug and instructed them to visit a nearby hospital for neuroimaging. In that part of the country, neurocysticercosis (brain lesions from a parasitic infection) are very common.

The treatments we could offer in a one-day clinic were limited, but we did what we could. It's hard to see so much need and only be able to meet a small part of it. Even in cases where we were able to offer a complete solution to the medical problems presented, we knew we could not even begin to address the poverty we saw all around us.

As we drove home that night, we passed by wooden shacks with light pouring through the cracks between the boards. No light escaped from others, probably because they didn't have electricity.

Despite this, our volunteers were struck by the joy they saw on the faces of those we treated and in the pastor we stayed with and his family. The pastor explained to us that things used to be much worse in the Chapare, in the years past when the drug trade was at its height. Despite the money circulating through the region, the area was less developed, and there was less hope. God has been working there, he explained to us, and he participates in this work every day by broadcasting the gospel in Spanish and Quechua on his radio station. He has opened his home for volunteer teams, like ours, who are able to alleviate, to a certain extent, the physical needs of many there.

Although what we are doing seems very little, it is part of the light breaking into the darkness in Chapare. Like the homes we saw spreading light into the jungle, we are spreading rays of our Father's love. Right now, the light seems dim, but we know that one day, the night will shine like the day.

New Creations

This morning started out slow at the hospital coffee shop, so I stood in the back of the waiting room for awhile and listened to Nestor Hugo preaching to the patients. He had a CD of worship music, and he'd play a song and sing along and then talk to the people about the message. He had one song on repeat for awhile, one about how in Christ we are new creations, that we are no longer what we were. God is the one who heals, Nestor Hugo explained; he alone can make us new. I listened for awhile while he preached in Spanish; when he switched to Quechua I came back to the cafe and waited for customers.

The rest of the morning I stayed busy at the cafe, before returning to the guest house for lunch with the volunteers. Two of them are working on preparing a lesson for the girls at an orphanage that we visit frequently. Most of these girls have experienced abuse, which makes the lesson the volunteers are preparing -- about God's plan for sex -- particularly sensitive.

The volunteers are focusing on education, making sure the girls understand the way sex affects people, physically and emotionally. It's something God created, they will explain, but many have abused this gift.

They especially want the girls to know that they are not responsible for what has been done to them, but that they have a choice, from now on, about what they do with their bodies.

These girls, who have no choice about their past, have a choice about their future. They have been treated as if they were cheap, but they are so precious that our God died to make them new.

2 Corinthians tells us that "if anyone is in Christ, he is a new creature; the old things passed away; behold new things have come." I often forget that this verse is followed by this next sentence: "Now all these things are from God, who reconciled us to Himself through Christ and gave us the ministry of reconciliation, namely, that God was in Christ reconciling the world to Himself, not counting their trespasses against them, and He has committed to us the word of reconciliation" (2 Cor. 5:17-19).

The message Nestor Hugo was expressing this morning, is the same as the message we're trying to bring. It is the message that has been entrusted to us -- the message of reconciliation, of hope, of the opportunity to be made new.

La Amistad (Friendship)

One of the volunteers has commented that each week here in Bolivia seems to have a theme-- generally one that we didn't plan. (Not that we don't plan; it's just that in Bolivia, things often turn out different than you expected.) This week's unplanned theme has been friendship.

This past Friday, I began serving coffee and tea to patients and staff at the hospital, as a service to them and as a way to build relationships and learn about their lives. This project is named "Cafe Xelda," in honor of the grandmother of Michael Wawrzewski, HOH's founder. She gave him his start in missions, and this new branch of the ministry is in her honor. So far, it's been a really great way to connect with people at the hospital, both staff and patients.

Yesterday was a slow day at the hospital, and I got to sit and talk with several staff members and hear about how their work is going. Today, I met a couple who work at the Adventist University, whose daughter is a tour guide. They're going to have her call me to possibly arrange Spanish lessons for volunteers. I also got to meet a young couple with two adorable little girls. They asked me about the hospital's religious affiliation and told me about their history with a controlling church, which they have now left. They were really wounded by this church, and they seem reluctant to try again. I told them that I thought that people create rules that God doesn't approve of, but that what is really important is for us to know God and his love. They invited me and the volunteers to come over for dinner this weekend, and I'm excited for the opportunity to talk with them more.

We invited a couple of the doctors over for lunch today, as a way to thank them for all they do for us. Now, those of you who know me are already aware that I'm a bit (okay, really, really) clumsy. Most of the time I've been here in Bolivia, I've somehow managed to pretend to be graceful. Not so today. In the course of the meal, I managed to send food flying across the table and to spill soda everywhere. I also managed to make some completely ridiculous Spanish mistakes. (For example, I said that medical residents in the US aren't supposed to work more than 100 years a week!) The doctors were very nice about the fact that I made a complete fool of myself and didn't even laugh at my blatant errors-- a sign of true friendship, I think!

One of the hospital administrators is becoming a great friend to us, as well, and Letitia (a volunteer) has decided that she is the one we will grill about all of the things we're perplexed about with regards to Bolivian culture. (If someone tells you that an event begins at 12, what time do you really show up, since it won't start for at least half an hour after that?) One of the guards invited us to come meet his family, and one of the doctors has invited us over for dinner.

Our language skills (or lack thereof) are still a limiting factor in our communication, but we're really beginning to build friendships here despite that. Miscommunication can actually be an asset in building friendships, we've found, as it gives us something to laugh about!

All in all, this week has been a blessing. We feel more at home here, knowing that we have friends we can call on, and we're enjoying getting to share in their lives.

For the Love of Languages (Guest Post by Letitia Juday)

Thrilling. That is the best word for it.

Speaking in a second language is an experience everyone should wish for, and a skill everyone should pursue. I know it is difficult to be excited when we are required to learn a language in high school or college. Classrooms are not famous for being exciting or thrilling. But let me tell you: if you work hard in the classroom and you are granted the awesome blessing of being able to travel to a country where your second language is spoken, the reward is huge.

Take today for example: Tiffany, Elle and I were supposed to go with the Bolivian medical director of Hospitals of Hope to the largest public hospital in Cochabamba, where he also works. Leta had work to do for the US office, so I was going to be the only person present who could speak Spanish and English. I was nervous; I always get nervous when I am designated “The Translator.” It’s quite a lot of pressure. I love it, and I am so honored to have this skill, but I am far from bilingual still, and I often cannot understand what a Bolivian says, simply because my vocabulary is not that huge.

But I had nothing to be nervous about today. This doctor is such a friendly, kind man, and loads of fun! We got in his car (I sat up front, so I helped myself to the seat belt, and it was my first time wearing one since arriving in Bolivia in August) and drove off toward the public hospital. I told him that earlier that morning, I had been watching Madagascar in Spanish to make my brain switch over to thinking in Spanish. He started singing, “I like to move it, move it” but in Spanish, and would randomly burst out into this song all morning. He is a genius for languages, speaking Spanish, Guarani, Quechua and Aymara. And although he says he does not like English and does not want to learn it, he knows some words from movies, like “Very good,” “You’re welcome,” “Alright. Let’s go!” “I got it,” etc. He asked me how to say “I think” and how to say “I am your father” from Star Wars.

At times, the English words that would burst from his mouth would make us burst out laughing. We passed a car accident and after clicking his tongue and commenting on the number of accidents in Bolivia, he said in English, “Destroyer! Superman!”

We got to the public hospital (which, let me just say, was NOT as nice as Hospitals of Hope), and found out that his boss was not going to be at work for a few more hours. So the doctor told us he would bring us back tomorrow at 2:00 PM. I wondered if that meant we weren’t going to stay today, but I did not ask. We followed him through the hospital and down the street and soon found ourselves back at his car. And we left. And stopped for a coke, and came home. So, basically, I translated for a ride around the city and brief stroll through the public hospital.

I have definite off-days and on-days when it comes to understanding and speaking Spanish. I’d say today was an on-day. I prayed that it would be. But that’s what makes me so nervous about being the designated translator. If it’s an off-day, there is much communication that gets lost, and it is my fault. But that’s what makes on-days so fabulous! Without me, there would be no communication between the two languages. It is SUCH a beautiful thing to be the channel of communication, to see people’s face light up with understanding as you explain what the other person said, to watch them laugh with delight after you translate a joke.

And even though translating is pretty darn awesome, my favorite is simply having a conversation with someone in Spanish. Although I usually do not ponder the situation while it’s happening, I look back and say to myself in total amazement, “Wow. I was communicating in a different language! Not English!”

I do not want you to get the idea that learning a second language is always peaches and lollipops. Unfortunately, my brain gets exhausted very quickly and I am often frustrated when I don’t understand something. My English is getting worse as my Spanish gets better. Once I was trying to say that many doctors were… but I could not think of the word. I scrunched up my face and thought and thought. Finally, Leta asked, “Do you know the word in Spanish?” I nodded. “Orgulloso!” And then she told me that the word I was searching for was arrogant.

But even though it is a tiring, often embarrassing, and frustrating process, as my Australian friends would say, “I am heaps grateful” for the opportunity to be in a situation where I have to learn Spanish. I would go through much worse than a little exhaustion and frustration to have the invaluable skill of communicating with millions more people than I could before.

Thanks for all the prayers concerning my language learning. Although I was super discouraged only yesterday, I can objectively say that I am speaking and understanding TONS more than when I first got here. When you pray for me, pray that I will be able to persevere through the discouragement that will never completely leave.

And to those of you studying another language, take heart! Study that grammar, perfect your pronunciation, and be ready for the day that God will give you the opportunity to become proficient.

Check out Letitia's blog (http://pakasqa.wordpress.com/) to read more about her experiences in Bolivia.

Changing Lives and Being Changed

Three short weeks ago, I came to Bolivia to temporarily fill in as the guest house hostess. Since then, I have been busy translating, cooking strange foods, and coordinating volunteer activities. I've met volunteers from all over the US and from as far away as Australia. We've worked together to find our way around an unfamiliar city, to communicate via hand motions and little bits of Spanish with a Quechua woman who came to our clinic, and to grow in our faith and in our ministry here.

These volunteers have jumped into life in Bolivia, helping feed babies at a local orphanage, washing the hair of street children, training EMTs, and more. It has been a privilege for me to be a part of their experience here, to see the ways God is working in them and through them.

One volunteer gave up hours of her time to keep an orphan boy company while he was in the hospital. Others have bravely shared their testimonies, helped translate at church, and sought ways to serve each other, as well as the people here.

The time the volunteers have here in Bolivia is limited, but I can see the effect they've had in the faces of the orphan girls they've played with, as well as in the way they interact with each other. I've seen them growing, struggling with the challenges of poverty and culture shock, and seeking how to love God and each other better.

Although volunteers come to Bolivia seeking to make a difference here-- and they do make a difference-- often they find that the biggest difference is in themselves.

These volunteers have already started to return to their various homes, and new volunteers are on their way. But I know that God will continue the work he has begun here, both in their lives and in the lives of those they've touched.

If You Are Where I Am

I'm never sure where home is anymore. When I'm in Wichita, I tell my friends that I'm going "home" to visit my parents. When I leave my parents' house to head back to work, I say that I'm going "home." And after leaving my "home" in the US, after having been away from Latin America for awhile, I also feel somewhat inexplicably at "home" here, in a country where I've never lived before, speaking a language that still is difficult for me.

It's not that I'm completely at ease here. I think I've experienced the first bits of culture shock this week. Waiting an hour for our driver to pick up volunteers for their flight back to the States, I certainly did a lot of internal grumbling about "Bolivian time." As the lights, water, and internet took turns randomly going out on Sunday, I laughed but really, really wished they'd come back on. Sitting on buses, being openly stared at because of my fair skin and blue eyes, it's fairly obvious that I, at least externally, don't belong.

Yet I love being here. I love the fact that I've started to think in Spanglish. I love shopping at the market, buying strange fruits and vegetables that I've never seen before. I love talking to the women selling food on the street corners and the taxi driver taking us "home" at night. And, while I've already started to miss my friends and family in the States, I know that I will miss Bolivia, as well.

There is a saying that missionaries are never happy except when they're in the airplane. There, for a few hours, they are content, knowing that they are going "home" to whichever home it is that they haven't been at. Once they arrive, they immediately start to miss their other home - the people, the sights, the smells, the sounds.

As I was coming back to the US from Guatemala a few years ago, dealing with culture shock, trying to get to know my own country again, the words of an old Rich Mullins song kept running through my head: "I am home anywhere, if You are where I am."

I repeated those words over and over to myself, hoping that they could be true. And I've come to believe, in the depths of my being, that they are.

I don't know where God will lead me in the future. I don't know if I'll travel to other continents, struggle to learn new languages, or never again travel outside of the state of Kansas. But I do know that this is true. My God is with me. And where He is, I am home.

Part of the family

This morning, I said goodbye to a member of my family. I'd only known him for about a week and a half, but there is no question that we are family.

Since I've come to Bolivia to temporarily run the HOH guesthouse, I've discovered a whole new branch of my family tree. The volunteers who are here all have different last names and come from different parts of the US, but this short time together has revealed an undeniable kinship. They alternately tease and affirm each other, like any close brothers and sisters, and they've dubbed me "Mama Leta." (This name is a bit ironic, as I'm less than a decade older than any of them. One suggested that instead of being their mother, I could be the "young, cool aunt.")

We've talked a lot this last week about what it means to be a part of the family of God, to have a connection deeper than that of blood, and how to live as children of our loving Father.

It's been bitter sweet getting to know each other this last little while, knowing each day that the time we have together is getting shorter. Together, we've struggled with communicating in a foreign language, confronted our fears and prejudices as we washed the lice-infested hair of street children, and laughed with the street vendors who came to our free clinic on Tuesday. It is hard to say goodbye, not knowing when we will all see each other again.

We will keep in touch, I think, as we all continue to process the things we have been learning here in Bolivia. And, although we will soon all be scattered, we know there is a family reunion coming.

I will see you there.

Hola de Bolivia!

As I write this, I'm sitting in the dining room of the HOH guest house in Vinto, Bolivia. One of the volunteers is playing the guitar in the background, and another group of them is in the kitchen making potstickers for dinner. We haven't been able to find quite all the required ingredients, so there have been a few creative substitutions. I think that's the way a lot of our cooking will be around here.

It's hard to believe that I've only been here for two days. We've kept busy at the hospital, visiting orphanages, buying groceries (which is quite a long process here), and navigating the public transportation. I'm here for three months, filling in as the guest house hostess until our new guest house hosts can start in December. It's been a lot of fun so far, although a few of us are battling colds and everyone is pretty tired from all we've been doing.

We're trying to take it a bit easier right now, until everyone gets rested up, but we've still got a lot planned. We're heading to the Casa de Alegria, a girls' orphanage, around 6 pm, and then we'll come back to the house for a late dinner. We'll also be making plans for our visit to the boys' orphanage tomorrow, where we'll be doing hygiene education and playing soccer. One of the boys from that orphanage is in the hospital here. He's improving, but it's a bit lonely for him, since he doesn't have parents or siblings to keep him company. One of the volunteers has really taken him under her wing, reading Bible stories to him and checking in on him throughout the day. We're hoping and praying that he'll be able to go home soon.

Thus far, I'm enjoying the change in pace and scenery. The volunteers have been wonderful, jumping in to help around the guest house, bravely sharing their testimonies at the hospital, and playing with kids at the orphanages. Over the next couple of months, I'll continue to keep you posted about life around the hospital and guest house. For now, I'd better get back to work. Hasta luego!

The Hope of Glory

Check out this reflection by Peter Wickwire, one of our Liberia volunteers:

As I am sure you know, SMP [a Wheaton College program with which HOH is partnering] offers so many different and even unusual experiences, and Liberia was by no means an exception! I spent six weeks in this hospital that was located on the coast of the beautiful Atlantic. It would have felt more like paradise had their not been daily reminders of the travesty and horror of the civil war that had ravaged the nation. Daily I saw and interacted with beautiful Liberian people, but often their beauty was masked by an emotional callous that set in from the constant death and torture caused by witless militia wreaking havoc across the country.

I loved my time at the hospital. At first it was a little difficult getting our foot in the door. Often they would say, "You're welcome, you're welcome here" and then do nothing to help us get set up. Mostly I think it is because they had never had such newbies come to them, and so while they were used to white people coming in and taking charge we were there as inexperienced pre-med students. Soon, however, they began to understand that we were there to be taught and then to use that to serve.

By two weeks into our time I had scrubbed in on surgeries (C-sections, hernia repairs, appendectomies, hysterectomies, myomectomies, ovarectamies, etc), I dressed wounds and did stitches, I did a circumcision, and I moved on to the OB ward where I got to take care of pregnant ladies and those who were ready to deliver. I listened to fetal hearts, I set up IV's for pregnant woman with malaria, I inserted catheters to prep woman for C-sections, and I even got to deliver a baby all by myself!!! It was such a momentous thing... to see life come into this world and the pain that has to take place for it to happen. Really makes the imagery in the Bible, as in the pains of childbirth, a lot more real (Romans 8)... And as it says in that passage, "the creation groans in eager expectation for the sons of God to be revealed" it was very easy to see that in Liberia. Amidst so much pain and suffering, I had to daily remember the hope of glory, the hope of Christ removing the evil and ugly from this world.

Dangerous Business

To paraphrase J.R.R. Tolkien, "It's a dangerous business, going to work at Hospitals of Hope. You step into the office, and if you don't keep your feet, there's no knowing where you might be swept off to."

In my case, that means being swept off to Bolivia for a couple of months. Tomas and Iris Ortiz, our guest house hosts, have taken a job in Canada, and their replacements won't be able to start for a few months. In the interim, I'll be filling in, taking care of our volunteers, speaking a lot of Spanish, and trying to learn how to cook at a high altitude (about 9,500 feet).

I'll be continuing to do parts of my job from Bolivia, as well as working with the hospital administration and coordinating volunteer work. I'm excited for the challenge and adventure of adjusting to Bolivian culture and getting to know some wonderful volunteers, as well as hospital staff, patients, and kids at the nearby orphanages.

But I'll have my work cut out for me, and I'll be leaving a fair amount of work behind me here at the office, as well. This is where you come in. :)

There are two things I'd like to ask of all of you. The first is that you pray. Pray for Tomas and Iris and their family as they adjust to life in Canada, as well as for me, for our volunteers in Bolivia, for our hospital staff, for all those we serve, and for our staff and volunteers here in Wichita.

The second is that you'd consider pitching in here at the office while I'm gone. There will be more sorting and inventorying to do in the warehouse, construction work on Clinics in Cans, general office work, and possibly event planning to do. I'll still be in the office for the next week and a half, so, if you're interested in helping out, I'd love to meet with you and discuss how you can get involved. You can call me at 316.262.0964 or email me at leta@hospitalsofhope.org.

I'll be updating the blog and our facebook page (facebook.com/hospitalsofhope) from Bolivia, so stay tuned to learn more about my adventures!

Summer in Liberia: A Volunteer Story

We have a team of students from Wheaton College serving at ELWA Hospital in Liberia this summer. When HOH staff traveled to Liberia a couple of weeks ago, we interviewed them about their experiences. Here are some excerpts from one of the interviews:

My name is Peter Wickwire, and I’m part of a group of three that has come to ELWA Hospital in Monrovia, Liberia for 6 weeks. We’ve had a blast so far. It’s been about 4 weeks, and each week has given us something entirely different than the one before it.

I went to the OR to start with. I’m so thankful I went to the OR. It was a really good landing for me in the clinic. The OR is pretty much like the functioning ER, the functioning operating room. The first couple days were difficult to get settled into. I don’t think they were used to premed students coming in. They didn’t understand back then that we were really here to be taught, and then, using what we’re taught, serve. It was really just watching people, shadowing from the corner, silently watching people.

Really my in was that I watched a nurse folding gauze for surgery and wound dressings, and the next day, without them asking, I just got up and started doing it, and he’s just like, “Oh, where’d you learn how to do that?” They kind of realized that we can learn, and so time went on and day after day I started doing more things, learning new things.

I saw a c-section one day. It was the first c-section I had ever seen in my life. The next surgery after that was another c-section, and they’re like, “Okay, Peter, you’re scrubbing on this one.” I was like “What are you talking about?” but I ended up scrubbing on the surgery, and it was a really neat experience.

After the first week or so, I think they really picked up on the fact that really we’re here to be taught and really here to just serve them, and they really started understanding that and utilizing that. Also, I think what helped was founding relationships with them and spending time just talking, and learning, and exchanging personal stories and life stories of how the war has shattered this country. It’s good to hear their stories of what they had to go through. It kind of opens doors for you to be part of their lives.

I think one of the difficult things for me being in Liberia is this place is really so torn. The buildings you see when you’re driving by are a living history of the war that happened so recently. It’s hard to be in a country so full of pain and just coming out of that. It’s a beautiful time, and yet it’s a difficult time.

I think my favorite thing of being in the clinic has not been delivering a baby or stitching up patients but getting to know the Liberians and speaking Liberian English to them and joking around with them and them loving to see that I’m trying to learn their culture. People are really grateful.

This trip has been so beneficial to me as a premed student looking in the future to going into medicine internationally, to use it for furthering Christ and his kingdom, and I couldn’t have thought of a better experience for me. They’re kind of teaching me what it looks like to use the resources that you have, which here are very limited, to give the best health care possible. There is just such a pressing need for help in this country, and it was good to visualize that. It’s a renewed fuel to the passion and fire I had to become an international physician. I really hope to someday come back and serve in a country like this, if not maybe here.

"Teacher, don't you care if we drown?"

Life, on the mission field or off, can be overwhelming at times. Coming home from a mission trip often leaves volunteers unsure how to live in a world that now seems much bigger than it did before. Often, they’re confronted with heartbreaking poverty and the reality that, even with all our relative wealth and privilege, there is only so much we can do.

Being here at home isn’t necessarily easier. People disappoint us, work can be difficult—if we can even find it, in this economy--, and church doesn’t always help.

I was thinking earlier today about the story of the disciples in the boat with Jesus, when the storm seems about to capsize the boat and Jesus is just lying there, peacefully sleeping. The disciples wake him and ask, “Teacher, don’t you care if we drown?”

Sometimes, when life gets overwhelming, I think all of us feel like asking that question.

When the disciples wake Jesus, he calms the storm. Once it has died down, he asks the disciples, “Why are you so afraid? Do you still have no faith?”

It seems perfectly reasonable for the disciples to have been freaking out a little when it looked like they were all about to drown. But the reality is that they didn’t really have to wake Jesus up. He had things taken care of. He wasn’t going to let the boat sink.

It can be hard to remember, and even harder to believe, that the storms in our lives aren’t big enough to upset God’s boat. Sometimes they seem pretty huge.

Today, I’m praying that we will remember that we have no need to fear. We follow Jesus, and even the wind and the waves obey him.

Hope in the Midst of Suffering

Nestor Hugo, our staff pastor in Bolivia, just returned from a training conference. This translation is from the update he sent us on his return to the hospital.

Tuesday, July 6, at 7:35 in the morning, the first thing I did was visit the inpatients. Of the 30 that had arrived as a result of the tragic bus accident, there were still a few, among them a man named Jorge* from the village of Sacaba who had had his arm amputated. After presenting the Plan of Salvation, I prayed for him and blessed his food. A little before I left, he asked me in Quechua to cut his bread for him because his right arm was in a cast and had an IV.

Preaching a little later in the waiting room to nearly 20 people, I began to cry because of seeing the suffering of our fellow human beings, and nearly all who heard the message of the Plan of Salvation prayed the prayer inviting Jesus Christ to enter their hearts.

The first day back in my pastoral ministry, I had another blessing because two brothers in Christ, members of the Gideons, came with me to the prayer room and asked me how many inpatients and medical personnel we had, to give them New Testaments with Psalms and Proverbs. After praying with me, they personally gave the New Testaments to the inpatients, doctors, and paramedics, as well as to the patients waiting for appointments.

May the immense love of our Eternal Heavenly Father, the infinite grace of our redeemer, and the real intervention of the Holy Spirit be with all of us today and forever. Amen.

* Name changed.

What's the Matter with Missionaries?

In Sunday school one day, I was surprised to hear someone comment about how much they disliked “missionaries.” I never got the chance to hear exactly where they were coming from, but I have a few ideas. Missionaries are often dismissed as culturally insensitive, patronizing, and imperialist. (Check out the recent post on the God’s Politics Blog about this topic.)

Sometimes, unfortunately, that’s true.

On the opposite end of the spectrum are those who glorify missionaries. A missionary, many believe, is someone who has given up everything to follow Christ, sacrificing their chances at a normal life in order to win souls.

That’s also sometimes true.

I fall somewhere in the middle between these two positions. I don’t really think missionaries are in a special category, either for honor or for criticism. We’re all called to love our neighbors as ourselves, be sensitive to their cultures and experiences, and take up our cross daily. We are all going to face challenges, discouragements, and disillusionment. But we all also have the same opportunity to take part in the unfolding of God’s plan.

My perspective on this is undoubtedly shaped by my background. I’ve never really thought of myself as a “missionary,” although that’s sort of what I am, I guess. I work full-time for a “missions” organization, and I have spent significant amounts of time abroad, doing “missions.” But I’ve never really thought of myself as a missionary, and I’ve never seen myself as making any significant sacrifices.

I don’t by any means want to downplay the sacrifices made by some, but, at the same time, I think we run into a problem when we start counting up our sacrifices or overly exalting the sacrifices made by others. I think that that is often where we start running into problems with cultural insensitivity—acting like we have all the answers, and, since we’re making such sacrifices to tell them, they’d better listen.

I like the attitude of David Livingstone, the famous missionary to Africa, much better. He once said, “For my own part, I have never ceased to rejoice that God has appointed me to such an office. People talk of the sacrifice I have made in spending so much of my life in Africa…. I never made a sacrifice.”

I don’t really know a whole lot about David Livingstone’s methods, and I’m sure he made a few errors. (Don’t we all?) But I do think he got this right: Following God’s call is never a sacrifice. God loves us, and where he leads is the path to joy.

A Whirlwind Trip in an Ambulance

A bucket of chicken, a Tom-Tom and two ambulances- that's just about all we took with us on a recent trip to the port at Houston. Four of us drove the new ambulances through the night from Wichita, KS to Houston, TX in order to get them on a ship headed to Bolivia. We encountered torrential downpours, sleep deprivation and problems with the port authority, but in the end everything went fine. Now the ambulances are headed down to serve at our hospital in Cochabamba, Bolivia.

We currently have two ambulances serving the hospital in Bolivia, but they are old (1990 & 1993) and have a lot of wear on them from driving in the mountains. Yost Auto Service, here in Wichita, has done a great job of helping us get the necessary parts to maintain those ambulances, but they are in continual need of repairs. There continues to be a huge need for ambulances in Cochabamba because of the large number of accidents that occur in the mountains, but there are very few actual ambulances operating in the city (most are vans or trucks that have been crudely converted). To make matters worse, the Bolivian government recently passed an ordinance outlawing the importation of any vehicle older than four years into the country, making it very difficult to send any affordable ambulances.

However, a few months ago Hospitals of Hope found three nice 2006 diesel ambulances at auction. Each one costs $125,000 new, but they were selling for much less, so we jumped at the chance to get them for pennies on the dollar. Who would have thought that we could find new ambulances that met the criteria set by the Bolivian government for such a great price? I am reminded of Matthew 6:25-34, where Jesus says that we have no need to worry because our Father knows our needs. Here at HOH, we continually see God's faithfulness in all that we do.

The two ambulances that we sent are in fantastic shape and will be able to dramatically improve emergency response around Cochabamba. The third ambulance does not have an engine, so we are in the process of getting a new one put in. If you would be interested in helping to contribute to a new engine, please contact me at daniel@hospitalsofhope.org.

~Daniel

Praying Big

A friend of mine told me a couple of months ago that she was going to give God a chance to say no.

You see, she’d been praying vague, unspecific prayers—the kind that it’s impossible to tell if God is answering. After talking with her, I realized that I do the same thing all the time. I bring up a situation to God and then say, basically, “Well, I don’t really know what you want to do here, so I’ll just let you take care of it.”

In some ways, that’s a good thing—being willing to surrender to God’s will, knowing that he’s in charge. But that’s not really what I was doing. Really, I wasn’t trusting God to take care of my concerns; I was afraid to tell him what I wanted for fear that he’d say no, or, worse, that he wouldn’t answer at all.

My friend’s solution to this problem was to start being honest with God—to tell him what she really wanted. The Psalmist tells us, “Trust in him at all times, O people; pour out your hearts to him, for God is our refuge” (Psalm 62:8). Saying, “Okay, God, your will be done” isn’t really pouring out our hearts. I think real prayer is pouring out our hearts and still being able to say, “Your will be done.”

It can be hard to pray specifically about all of the need we see. We’re a small organization, and what we can do is limited. But our God is not.

I was reading Compassion International’s blog earlier today, and the writer explains that many of the people at Compassion believe that extreme poverty can be eliminated during our lifetimes. It’s a big dream, and it requires big prayers.

I don’t know how God will answer those prayers. And I’m not sure if I’ve got the courage to ask for anything that big. But I’m praying for the courage to start praying big prayers.

Will you pray them with me? Pray that God will use our ministry—that lives will be transformed, that societies will be renewed, and that hope will overflow. The need is big, but our God is much, much bigger.

Hope to Walk Again

When she came in to Hospitals of Hope, Gabriela* was convinced she’d never walk again. A year before, she’d been in an accident that had left her leg badly broken. She had been treated at another hospital, which had put an external fixator on her leg to hold the bone in place while it healed. Whether from lack of money or improper treatment, the external fixator remained in place a year later, and Gabriela still had no use of her leg.

When Gabriela came to Hospitals of Hope, staff and volunteers discovered that a section of bone in her leg had completely dissolved. Through surgery, they were able to remove a portion of her hip and use it and a metal rod to replace the missing section of bone.

A few days after surgery, when the doctor came in and told Gabriela that they were going to try to help her to stand, she didn’t believe him. She had given up on the possibility of using her leg. When hospital staff helped Gabriela to her feet and she was able to stand with the help of a walker, her entire countenance changed. Her face lit up as she realized the possibility that she would one day walk again.

People like Gabriela are the reason we do the work that we do. So many times, situations like Gabriela’s leave people in despair. But we serve a good God, one who has good plans—plans for hope and a future (Jeremiah 29:11), both for this life and the life to come.

*Name changed.

Christmas in April?

“Papa Noel! Papa Noel!” This is how my dad was greeted as he entered an orphanage in Cochabamba, box of goodies in hand. It wasn’t Christmas time, and my dad doesn’t really look very much like Santa Claus, but, to those kids, he might as well have been Saint Nick himself.

My dad was in Bolivia for a little over 2 weeks, supervising physician assistant and medical students on rotation at the hospital. Judging from his stories and the pictures I’ve seen, visiting area orphanages was his favorite part. He and the students did check ups on the kids, many of whom had untreated health problems. It’s not that the orphanages don’t do a good job, he explained; there are just too many kids and not enough resources.

He told me about one little boy with degenerative retinal disease, who is slowly going blind. The orphanage where he lives has 2 caretakers for something like 40 boys; with that ratio, no one had even noticed that he was losing his eyesight. There is nothing to do to reverse the process, Dad says, but at least now that he’s been diagnosed, they’re taking him to the school for the blind.

It’s easy to become discouraged by need like this. There are so many who need care, and what we can do is so limited. But we believe that, even when we feel discouraged and as if the need is too great, our actions have eternal value.

As Mother Teresa once said, “The success of love is in the loving - it is not in the result of loving. Of course it is natural in love to want the best for the other person, but whether it turns out that way or not does not determine the value of what we have done.”

Our volunteers and the staff members at these orphanages will continue to work to make a difference in the lives of these children. We don’t know how our efforts will turn out, but we will continue to show them love in the best way we can. We hope and pray that perhaps, through our efforts, these fatherless children will come to know their Heavenly Father. That is the best gift we can offer.

Dios le Bendiga

It never ceases to amaze me how beautifully people pray in Spanish. I just finished reading a letter from Nestor Hugo, our staff pastor in Bolivia, and he greeted me with these words:

“It is my petition in prayer, that our Eternal Heavenly Father bless you, guide you, and prosper you in all of your activities every day. May the grace and peace of our Triune God be with you.”

Wow. I feel blessed by simply knowing that someone is praying that for me.

Lately, we at the Hospitals of Hope office have been desiring to give prayer a bigger place in our ministry. We want to make sure that we’re praying more regularly as a staff, and we want to enlist more prayer support for our work. We want to develop a group of people who will commit to praying regularly for our ministry, with whom we can share our specific prayer concerns. Jeanie Tidwell, one of our faithful local volunteers, has agreed to coordinate our prayer team, communicating our prayer needs and celebrating the answers.

Would you consider being a part of that team?

If so, please let me know by email, at leta@hospitalsofhope.org, or by phone, at 316.262.0964.

In the words of Nestor Hugo, “May our merciful and compassionate God bless you.”

In Memoriam

We’ve just returned from the funeral of Leonard Hicks, a faithful supporter and a great friend. Leonard was the owner of Castle Door and Hardware, next door to the Hospitals of Hope office, and we couldn’t have asked for a better neighbor.

Leonard was always eager to help us out however he could, whether it was by loaning us an extra forklift or by donating and installing doors in the Clinics in Cans. If you’ve spent much time at the office, you probably met Leonard, and you definitely met his dog Molly, who greeted us every morning as we arrived.

Leonard was the cofounder of the Bridgeport Area Business Association, and, when we decided to build Clinics in a Can for Haiti in January, he not only donated his own materials and labor but also recruited other area businesses to help out.

We were humbled to learn that Leonard’s family chose to set up a memorial fund benefitting Hospitals of Hope. Leonard gave so much in life; we should not have been surprised to learn that he would keep giving, even after death.

We will miss Leonard, but we don’t believe that we’ve seen him for the last time. As Tennyson wrote,

Strong Son of God, immortal Love,

Whom we, that have not seen thy face,

By faith, and faith alone, embrace,

Believing where we cannot prove;


...

Thou wilt not leave us in the dust:

Thou madest man, he knows not why,

He thinks he was not made to die;

And thou hast made him: thou art just.

...

We have but faith: we cannot know;

For knowledge is of things we see;

And yet we trust it comes from thee,

A beam in darkness: let it grow.

The Best Volunteers Ever

I’m pretty sure I’ve mentioned this before, but I have to say it again—we have great volunteers.

With only three of us on staff here in Wichita, there’s far more work to do than we can handle on our own. With office tasks to complete, donations to inventory and pack, medical equipment to test and fix, trips to coordinate, events to plan, etc, our work can seem pretty overwhelming. But our volunteers make it manageable.

In the last couple of weeks, volunteers have built a new set of shelves in the warehouse and worked on organizing, packing crates, completing paperwork, and more. Here’s a picture of the new shelves. (As you can tell, they're already getting full!)

So, to all of you who give of your time, energy, and money to make our work possible, thanks. We couldn’t do it without you!

PA Students at Work in Bolivia

A team of 5 students from Wichita State University has arrived at our hospital in Bolivia, where they’ll be working for the next month. These students, in their 2nd year of the Physician Assistant program at WSU, are completing a rotation at our level II hospital, where they’ll learn about treating patients in a third world setting while assisting hospital staff.

This year’s students will be supervised by Michael Wawrzewski, PA-C, Hospitals of Hope’s founder and CEO, as well as by E.J. Reppert, MD, MPH. They will have the opportunity to observe differences in the healthcare systems of the US and Bolivia, as well as to see cases that they would not normally see in a US hospital, such as Chagas disease.

One former student, who has since spent time working in Afghanistan, commented that, in Bolivia, "you learn about health care that has limitations of money, medical supplies, instruments, and medicine, so you have to be more creative. That’s an excellent thing to learn as a medical provider."

We can set up rotations in Family Practice, Ob/Gyn, General Surgery, Internal Medicine, Pulmonary Medicine, Orthopedics, and Pediatrics at our hospital in Bolivia. We have formal arrangements with schools including WSU, Salus University, and Yale, but we have worked with other schools, as well.

If you’re interested in completing a rotation with us, email daniel@hospitalsofhope.org or call our office at 316.262.0964.

Loving the Half-hearted and the Corrupt

It was for this world that Christ had died; the more evil you saw and heard about you, the greater glory lay around the death. It was too easy to die for what was good or beautiful, for home or children or a civilization--it needed a God to die for the half-hearted and the corrupt.

--Graham Greene, in The Power and the Glory

I was reading the God’s Politics Blog earlier today, and, while I don’t agree with everything it says, I was challenged by a simple question posted by one of their bloggers: “Does my life look like Jesus on the cross?”

I think that this question is asking if we are living sacrificially, offering love to others whether or not they ‘deserve’ it. It seems like living sacrificially would be much easier if people were easier to love—but people are broken and fallen.

Jesus didn’t die for us because we’re such good people; he died for us because he loved us.

I’m often struck by how hard it is to show love to people. Missionaries—those sent by Hospitals of Hope and by other organizations, both in the US and in other countries—deal with physical danger, unfamiliar surroundings, and cultural misunderstandings as they try to share Christ’s love. It’s not always easier closer to home, either. Even loving our neighbors or our family members can sometimes feel impossible.

Yet, in all of this, to quote Paul,

Your attitude should be the same as that of Christ Jesus:
Who, being in very nature God,
did not consider equality with God something to be grasped,
but made himself nothing,
taking the very nature of a servant,
being made in human likeness.
And being found in appearance as a man,
he humbled himself
and became obedient to death—
even death on a cross!
Philippians 2:5-8

As Easter approaches, we ponder the depth of Christ’s love for us. It is because of him that we do all that we do here. I pray that this week, and every week, we will grow more and more like him.

What does it mean to be a missionary? (Guest post by Thomas Stanley)

So you’re called to be a missionary? Great!

Start praying, find a missions agency which fits your direction, set a date, raise the funds and pack your bags.

Is it really that easy? Yes and no.

Yes, you can go through a checklist of steps needed to go on a trip, but, when you are in the realm of missions, the complexity of the process resides in the internal battles.

Last year I was fortunate enough to go on a month-long mission trip to Bolivia for Hospitals of Hope. My experience with short term missions (1 week to 2 months) raised several personal issues.

Were my motives pure? Was I simply doing it to appear pious? Is it merely a vacation to avoid the problems which exist in my current life? Isn’t there mission I could be doing in my own town?

I mean, poverty exists in Wichita. There are thousands who don’t know Christ in my own backyard. The problems of drugs, perversion, and violence are prevalent in my very neighborhood.

These issues paced through my mind in the months before the trip and lingered afterward.

This mild existential crisis mellowed after clarifying my purpose. The purpose of my trip wasn’t to simply do the lofty work of saving sinners, curing the sick, and fixing the country's problems.

My purpose was to serve the Lord in all capacities and view the trip as not an end, but a means to an end.

My mission trip didn’t end July 8 when I left Cochabamba, it merely began. The short-term mission trip gave a drastic paradigm shift in how I viewed the world. If you’re open to it, it can change the way you view your neighborhood, your city and your daily ministry.

I heard a pastor say, “If you’re a missionary, then what does that make everyone else?” It is not merely the job of a missionary to do missions. In Matthew 28:19-20, Christ calls us all to “go and make disciples of all nations, baptizing them in the name of the Father and the Son and the Holy Spirit, and teaching them to obey everything I have commanded you.”

Does this mean you shouldn’t go on mission trips? Certainly not, the experience of immersing yourself in a different language and culture is unlike any other. Serving the Lord internationally is difficult yet fulfilling.

But if you are thinking about missions, I would encourage you to not simply work toward a trip but toward a lifestyle change. Again, the trip itself is not the end; it is a means to a greater end of serving the Lord in diligently your entire life.

Expanding Health Care in Liberia

The man who came into the ER was vomiting blood. A viper had bitten him, and it had taken him more than 24 hours to reach the hospital, which was far away from where he lived.

He could only afford one vial of antivenin, so that was all the public hospital was willing to give him. It was clear, though, that that wasn’t going to be enough.

The Hospitals of Hope team, which was at the hospital installing medical equipment, saw the man’s condition and quickly decided to help cover the cost of his treatment. By that point, unfortunately, it was too late.

This man’s life likely could have been saved by quicker treatment, but Liberia’s lack of medical infrastructure makes it difficult to access health care.

In the past two years, we have primarily focused our work at JFK Medical Center, since this is the referral center for the entire country of Liberia and since it lacked basic medical equipment. In the last year, Hospitals of Hope has donated $1.1 million of medical equipment to JFK, greatly increasing its capacity to effectively treat patients.

Now, however, after February’s trip installing x-ray machines, a central oxygen system, and more, we believe that it is time for us to expand our reach in Liberia, working with smaller clinics and hospitals to ensure easier access to care.

In April, we will be sending another container of medical equipment to Liberia, this one primarily aimed at equipping smaller clinics. We will work with 2 other organizations on this project, providing the equipment necessary to supply the medical clinics they are building.

Another trip is planned for Liberia this summer, in the last 2 weeks of June or the beginning of July. If you are interested in joining this team, whether to treat patients, train staff, or install equipment, please contact Daniel White at daniel@hospitalsofhope.org.

Esperanza

Esperanza* was pregnant and living under a bridge. At just 17 years old, she already had a 2-year-old son and was expecting her second.

For street kids like Esperanza, healthcare of any kind is pretty far out of reach. The government hospital, which is supposed to provide care for the poor, discriminates against street kids, giving them insufficient care or flat-out refusing to treat them.

That had happened to Maria, a 14-year-old suffering from an infection so severe that she could barely walk, who was turned away at the door of the hospital, even though she had money to pay for treatment. Fortunately, in her case, missionaries intervened, possibly saving her life.

Diego wasn’t so lucky. He had been in the wrong place at the wrong time and had suffered severe wounds in a knife fight. While the government hospital treated him, they released him within 8 hours of major intestinal surgery. He died from infection less than 24 hours later.

Brianna Brown, a missionary affiliated with Hospitals of Hope, wanted to make sure that Esperanza and her baby didn’t fall through the cracks. She and another missionary arranged for housing for Esperanza, and she took her out of the city to Hospitals of Hope for pre-natal care.

The kindness of the hospital staff astonished Esperanza, as they treated her with dignity and respect and played with her son. She saw her baby boy growing healthily on the ultrasound, and, when she returned to the city, she couldn’t stop telling the other street kids about how clean the hospital was and how kindly the staff had treated her.

Esperanza’s baby, Luis, has since been born, strong and healthy, thanks in part to the care shown by the Hospitals of Hope staff. More than just medical care, however, Esperanza received the love of Jesus, expressed through the hospital staff and volunteers.


*Names have been changed.

Happy Inconvenience Yourself Day!

Happy Inconvenience Yourself Day! What, you’ve never heard of this holiday? Well, neither had I, until a couple of days ago. Inconvenience Yourself Day is a day dedicated to going out of our way to be kind to others, “to focus on inconveniencing ourselves instead of inconveniencing others” (www.inconvenienceyourself.com).

Even though I’d never heard of this holiday before this week, I think it’s a great idea, and it’s made me reflect on how this concept relates to our work.

We’ve got a great group of volunteers who inconvenience themselves all the time to help us provide quality medical care—through helping in the warehouse, working on the Clinics in a Can, doing secretarial work, etc. This work isn’t always fun, but our volunteers have really been great about giving of their time and talents to help us serve.

Our faithful donors inconvenience themselves frequently by making financial sacrifices on behalf of those we serve. Area clinics, hospitals, pharmacies, and doctors’ offices inconvenience themselves by saving useful medical supplies to be sent to countries like Bolivia, Liberia, and Haiti. Saving these items can take up time and space, but it means a lot to those who will receive them.

We are truly grateful to all of those who inconvenience themselves so that we can serve.

Most of all, though, we’re thankful that God inconveniences himself for us. It wasn’t convenient for him to die on a cross, and it isn’t convenient for him when we frequently mess things up. But that’s what grace is all about. I’m so glad we have a God who prioritizes us, rather than convenience.

Clinics, Liberia, and life at Hospitals of Hope

It’s been amazing seeing the way the Clinics in a Can have come along in the last couple of weeks. We’ve had a great group of volunteers coming in every day for the last few weeks, and Hutton Construction donated several of their employees for about 3 weeks. The clinics look great, and they’ll be a huge blessing to many in Haiti.

This Clinic in a Can project has definitely been a learning experience for me. While I haven’t been involved in the hands-on details, like sheet rocking and plumbing, I am learning my way around Home Depot, and I can now tell you what, exactly, a down cut jigsaw blade is!

Mike and Daniel are in Liberia right now, where they’ll be installing the medical equipment that we sent in December. The container has arrived in port and should be released from customs soon. Please pray for the quick release of the container and for safety as they unload it and install the equipment.

While they’re over there, I (Leta) am here in Wichita, working with volunteers to equip the clinics, pick up supplies, and run the day-to-day business of the office. There’s plenty of work to keep us all busy, so, if you’re in need of something to do, I could definitely put you to work. :) (You can send me an email at leta@hospitalsofhope.org or call me at 262.0964 if you’d like to come in.) Or, if you’d like to just drop by and see the Clinics, I’d love to show them to you; just give me a call to let me know when you’re coming. Either way, we’d love to see you!

Clinics in a Can

Thanks to many of you, we're making great progress on our Haiti relief efforts. As many of you know, Hospitals of Hope constructed a self-contained medical clinic in a shipping container -- called a Clinic in a Can -- in 2005. This clinic was initially utilized in Hurricane Katrina relief efforts and was then sent to Les Cayes, Haiti. This clinic is currently being put to use by relief workers, as refugees flee from Port Au Prince to the surrounding communities. But with hundreds of thousands injured, many hospitals destroyed, and relief teams operating in the open air or under tents, more medical facilities are desperately needed.

We plan to send 2 Clinics in a Can and a small hospital constructed out of 3 other shipping containers, and, thanks to your support, we should have the first of these clinics finished next week. We have had a number of volunteers coming in to help, and Hutton Construction has donated the time and expertise of many of its employees. A number of other local businesses have pitched in, including Wesley Medical Center, Castle Door, A & H Electric, Wilko Paints, and more.

To learn more about what we're doing in Haiti, or to see pictures of the Clinic in a Can, check out our Haiti Relief page. You can also find a list of items we still need there. If you're interested in donating items or in coming in to help out, give us a call at 316.262.0964 or email info@hospitalsofhope.org.

Haiti Relief - Clinic in a Can

Medical personnel in Haiti are currently treating patients out of tents, since many hospitals and clinics were destroyed by the recent earthquake. To meet the urgent medical needs Haitians are facing, Hospitals of Hope plans to construct and send 5 “Clinics in a Can”— self-contained medical clinics built in the back of 40’ shipping containers.

These clinics are durable and designed to survive earthquakes, hurricanes, and other natural disasters. While hospitals and clinics will take years to rebuild, we plan to have the first “Clinic in a Can” on the ground in Haiti in 5-6 weeks. Learn more about the previous “Clinic in a Can” that we sent to Haiti.

In our initial response, we will construct two clinics, each containing two 8’ x 12’ exam rooms, an 8’ x 11’ laboratory, and a storage area. We will coordinate with other organizations already on the ground in Haiti to ensure that the clinics are shipped to the areas of greatest need.

In the coming months, if funding is available, we plan to build a small hospital by combining three shipping containers in a U-shaped formation. This hospital will contain 1 surgical suite, 1 recovery room, 1 laboratory, 3 exam rooms, and a central courtyard.

If you would like to help build Clinics in a Can or would like to donate medical or construction supplies, please contact the Hospitals of Hope office at 316.262.0964 or via email at daniel@hospitalsofhope.org. To financially support our work in Haiti, please visit our website.

Current Medical Equipment Needs

* 6 roll-around stools
* Scales
* Syringes
* Gloves
* 6 swan-neck or other exam lights
* Orthopedic supplies (plaster of paris, casting material)
* IV supplies
* IVs
* 4x4 gauze
* Kerlix gauze
* Tongue depressors
* Urine dipsticks
* Blood pressure cuffs
* 6 Welch Allyn wall unit otoscopes/ ophthalmoscopes
* 3 mayo stands
* Microscopes and other basic lab equipment
* Manual surgical table (for future hospital)
* Overhead surgical light (for future hospital)

Disaster in Haiti

As I'm sure you've all heard by now, Haiti was hit yesterday by a devastating earthquake, registering 7.0 on the Richter scale. Several of you have contacted us about what Hospitals of Hope's response will be to the disaster and asking for ways that you can get involved.

After thinking and praying about the situation, we believe that organizations such as Samaritan's Purse and World Vision are in a better position to respond to the immediate crisis. These groups already have disaster response teams in motion, so we would urge you to support them, as the first couple of days after an event like this are the most crucial.

We have been working in Haiti for several years now, and we are committed to continuing our work there, especially in the wake of this disaster. We have a team going to Haiti in July of this year, and we may assemble a team to go in the next month or so, as well. If you or your church is assembling a team, we would be happy to donate medical supplies and equipment to support your trip. If you are interested either in joining a team or in donations of medical supplies, please email info@hospitalsofhope.org or call our office at 316.262.0964.

Our thoughts and prayers are with the people of Haiti today, and we will continue to look for ways we can serve in the weeks and months ahead.

He Dwelled Among Us

“He dwelled among us”—this was the theme for Urbana 09, the nation’s largest missions conference. Urbana has been held every 3 years since 1946, and the week after Christmas the Hospitals of Hope USA staff traveled to St. Louis for the 22nd triennial conference.

Urbana always provides a lot of food for thought, as well as being a great way to connect with future volunteers. This year’s conference focused on the incarnation and what that means for the way we should conduct missions.

When Christ came to earth, the speakers pointed out, he “made himself nothing, taking the very nature of a servant” (Phil. 2:7). It’s far too easy for us to get caught up in preserving our own dignity when we do missions. We’re happy to perform surgery, but we’d really rather that someone else emptied the bed pans. It’s easy to think we’re being sacrificial when we get to do the glamorous work; it’s far harder to serve in the ins and outs of everyday life.

Another way we can learn from Jesus’ example is to maintain a long-term commitment to the people we serve. Too often, Western missionaries go to a developing country, make promises to help, and then go home, leaving their promises unfulfilled and people disillusioned. Jesus, on the other hand, came and lived with—and died for—the people he came to save; his was no short-term commitment.

This one is a little harder to apply for most of us. Most of us haven’t been called to spend our lives in a foreign country, among strangers. When we get involved in missions, it’s usually short-term. I still think that we can put this principle into practice, though. While we may not spend our lives on the mission field, we can maintain a long-term commitment, even from home.

Our hospital in Bolivia sees many short-term volunteers who come and go, but many continue to be involved with Hospitals of Hope, and, thereby, the community around our hospital, long after their time abroad has ended. We’re committed to making sure that we provide continuous, quality care at our hospital, and we employ a year-round Bolivian staff to do that, even after volunteers have gone home. Although most of us don’t live in Bolivia full-time, we have made a commitment to the community, and we aren’t going anywhere.

Many of the people who attended Urbana are students, and, as we talked to the ones stopping by our booth, we could tell that a lot of them were really thinking hard about how to apply the things they were learning to their lives. Should they go to medical school and become a missionary doctor? Should they avoid all the debt associated with medical school and become a nurse, so that they could go to the mission field sooner? Should they stay at home in the US and support missions financially?

We didn’t have a lot of answers for most of these students; God has a different plan for each of their lives. But there is one thing that they all have in common with all of us—we are being called to serve with humility and commitment.