Welcome Back

An abundance of gratitude for…

Feeling my heart thaw and my soul breathe and my spirit whisper welcome back

In the middle of rock bottom I discovered rock bottom is not where people go to die but where people go to be recreated. Matthew Barnett

Church bells on the hour

Sheep grazing on the mountainside

Exploring a medieval castle

Red wine and Camembert

Feeling hope rise again

Hurry is the great enemy of spiritual life in our day. You must ruthlessly eliminate hurry from your life.  Dallas Willard

The smell of cut grass

The damp shade and the smell of pine while hiking

Dear friends whom I met in two different seasons and countries meeting each other and the sweet photo they sent me to commemorate the event

Fresh milk

Spinach and fresh mushrooms

What matters is not the accomplishments you achieve, what matters is the person you become. Dallas Willard

New friends exploring the possibilities of missions

I really do still love my job

Laughing at a silly low-budget movie with a friend

Easy camaraderie while making dinner together

Sunshine and blue skies, panoramic views from the top

The customer service rep who never switched to English

A straightforward, honest, no drama, mean-what-we-say friendship

Naps

Freely giving and receiving blessings

A stunning flower garden

You must arrange your days so that you are experiencing deep contentment, joy, and confidence in your everyday life with God.  Dallas Willard

Birdsong

Birds of prey soaring overhead

Fat bumblebees buzzing from one bloom to another

A long sleep after a full weekend

Coffee

Being remembered by people I met two years ago

A prayer of blessing from a pastor who understands

Your face was meant to shine. Glory always shines. Glory was meant to be shared. John Ortberg

Tractors cutting, turning, and baling hay

Open homes, open hearts, encouragement and blessing

A long bike ride, and not being too sore afterward

Snow-capped mountains in the distance

Still light at 10pm

One thing I’ve realized is that being different doesn’t disqualify you from a dynamic life. It prepares you. Matthew Barnett

Worship flowing from English to French and back again

That it doesn’t matter what language we pray in

A sunny patio with chairs and a table

Being able to help change a tire quickly with no drama and no problems

One of the greatest days of my life was the day I decided to die to my dream of being a success and become alive to the dream of being a blessing.  Henry Cloud

Freedom to dream and wonder and hope again

Friends and family across the globe who love me regardless of the monsters I’m manifesting

Surprise blessings, surprise donations, surprise favor that reminds me I’m not in this alone

That’s just how God works with us – he relentlessly pursues us because all he has ever wanted is to be with us.  He reaches out to slaves, people in prison, and people like me doing silly, foolish things and says, “Welcome back”.  John Ortberg

Quotes from John Ortberg and Dallas Willard from the book “Soul Keeping”
Quotes from Mathew Barnett from the book “Misfits Welcome”
Quotes from Henry Cloud from the book “Boundaries”

Fire.

I’ve been pretty down lately.

I look back on this last field service, and I focus my eyes on individual incidences... Like every time I walked through a fire, I see where I didn’t choose the best thing; maybe I wasn’t kind, gracious, or patient.  Maybe I said something that I shouldn’t have or didn’t work hard enough.  Maybe I missed an opportunity to speak life because I was so focused on my own self and the fire around me.  I had some really bad leadership moments and some even worse follower moments.  Maybe I took my eyes off Jesus, or the good things around me, or the tremendous favor and blessings that are all over the place.  And I see each one of those individual events as a failure.   Sure, there were some good ones in there too… but it’s the ones I regret that are the most prevalent as I look back over the field that was the last ten months, so I tend to see it all as one big failure.

But when I was running yesterday, something shifted. 

A change in perspective can change everything.

If I can swoop out; back up far away from each individual fire where I didn’t do as well as I could have or should have or wished I had…  If I can flap my wings, soar up in the atmosphere and look at the whole field service instead of each individual fire, what do I see?  I see a field on fire… and me on the other side of it. 

I did make it.  And I am still standing.  And looking at the horizon, the future spread out before me full of unknown adventures and joys and fires and freedom.  I made it through the field.  The rubber on my shoes may be melted and my eyebrows singed, but each one of those fires has made me stronger; both more aware of my own strengths as well as the things I need to work on. 

I might not have killed it in every fire I faced this year.  I know I hurt some people.  I know I could have handled some things better.  I know I missed out on opportunities to love and serve and shine light into dark places because of my own selfishness or neediness or whatever other ugly thing was surfacing.

But I still made it to the other side.  And that is pretty freaking awesome.  So instead of loitering around in the darkness of regret and failure I’m going to stand up tall and revel in the joy that is having survived, that is having friends on the journey, that is looking back on the countless lives impacted by the blood, sweat, and tears poured into this island and her beautiful people. 

You are strong, in my brokenness

Sovereign over every step

Even in the fire I'm alive in You

{Alive in you by Jesus Culture - played on repeat these days}

The Legend.

We say a lot of goodbyes around here... it can be a challenge living with a constant level of grief. Some of the hardest are the long-term goodbyes - people who have invested here for more than two years.  When we say goodbye as a community to these treasures, we get to honor them by praying them out as a community, and usually their manager or someone up the foodchain gets to write a few words.

Last week we had to say goodbye to Rob.  Now, I don't remember many of the crew who were here just a few years ago; the turnover is such that people get forgotten relatively quickly.  However, this guy will always be a legend here in these halls, I guarantee it.  I had the privilege and the honor of working with him this last year and was even more honored to pen these words of blessing for him that were offered last week.

I know I am not alone in the belief that there are simply not enough adequate English words to begin to describe, honor, and thank Rob for the impact and influence he has had on this community.

Rob joined the Africa Mercy nearly three years ago as the Academy math teacher.  For a subject that causes many children to shudder and adults to groan, I’ve heard Rob still made it fun.  He not only selflessly served and encouraged the students, but in his spare time tutored other crew members, participated in bible studies and connect groups, was the president of Toastmasters, played a variety of sports, and served, valued, and encouraged every single person he came into contact with.

A year ago he accepted the position of Medical Capacity Building assistant for the Mada 2 field service.  It wasn’t a glamorous job, but Rob’s enthusiasm and passion to bring hope and healing to both the medical providers who participate in our training programs, and to the multitude of patients that they serve, was always on display.  He brought laughter to the stressful moments, fresh ideas and technical expertise in streamlining some of our processes, and unbridled enthusiasm anytime he shared about MCB programs.  He selflessly got up early when needed and often stayed late; he poured into our day crew and encouraged them to dream bigger dreams for their future.  He was the rock that held our team together as we managed projects on the ship, in town, in Tana, and across the country.

Rob, I know the crew will agree with me when I say it has been an honor and a privilege to share in community, in work, in calling, and in life with you.  You look like Jesus; you make me want to be a better person; to reach higher, further, and deeper into the richness of God’s grace and favor; and to inspire others to do the same.   Rob, from the depths, thank you for being a part of all of our stories; for being a shining example of strength, perseverance, fierce determination, and the wholehearted pursuit of life to the full.

As you leave this place, may the Lord go ever before you, to light the path for your feet.  May you hear the voice behind you saying, “This is the way, walk in it.”  May he bring you alongside others, who will bless you, and many more whom you will bless, as you navigate the journey and the unknown.  May He surround you with His goodness, His peace beyond understanding, and hope and a future greater than anything you could dare to ask or imagine. 

Rob, thank you again for all you have given to this place, these people, and to me. I will forever be grateful.  You are missed.  God's richest blessings on your new season and beyond.

Rob was a key part of this team over this field service in Madagascar

I stole this photo off his facebook page

Strange awful wonderful.

It’s once again that strange, awful, wonderful time of year.

Nearly two years in Madagascar – a country that was never on my radar.  I had no deep-rooted desire to see this land of rice paddies and lemurs, but turns out? It’s been a gift. To take a moment and look back on the beauty that is this place, these people, those stories of lives transformed and hope for a future… what an honor and a privilege it is to be a part of this.

Surgeries are finished; the hospital is sending our last patients home this week.  Hundreds of people will go out from here, returning to their home countries and languages and cultures and traditions.  I’ll be saying until next time to some of the most incredible, inspiring friends and fellow world-changers; also to our day crew, and to the local healthcare workers that we have poured into and served alongside for two years.  The tears are near the surface; again, I am glad to feel, because it means I am alive.  I don’t ever want these things to get easier, though I desperately wish they were.  It’s a paradox that I can’t fully grasp but know, to the depths, is what we were made for.

These last two weeks are filled with all the last things; last dinners, last Sunday morning coffee, last letters written to friends, last runs through the port, last goat cheese and honey at Oceans 501 and chicken spicy sandwich at La Braise.  They are also filled with project reports, packing and securing for sail, and my personal bi-annual get rid of half your stuff purge.  Yes, I am coming back next year but many won’t; the regulars at coffee will change along with the view out my window and the songs drifting up the stairwell from the hospital in my basement.

I thought I had mentioned it but surprised friends told me I haven’t; I’m not travelling to the States this summer for a variety of reasons, most notably that my savings account was drained for tuition payments, along with the simple truth that time in the States is beautiful and wonderful but very seldom particularly restful.  I’m headed to the mountains in the south of France, where a treasure of a friend invited me to stay, looking forward to simple things like cheese and wine, running in natural beauty (not circles in the port), drinking coffee in my pajamas, and sharing life with a fellow world-changer.   I’m also hoping my French vocabulary will expand, and that time away from this crazy ship will remind me again of how much I love it.  I’ve got a dozen books to read and another dozen or two blogs to write; the space and the time to do both will fill my heart and renew my weary soul.

I’ll be flying to Paris in two weeks, and back into Durban, South Africa, at the end of July; where we will embark on the journey to Benin, with a new team and new ideas and new plans and visions and dreams ready to set sail. 

Mada from the sky

Farafangana

Manakara

He knows.

Not three minutes after I posted my last blog, I went up to Sunday night service here on the ship, and the subject of the evening was persevering through tiredness, difficulties, the end of things, the final sprint.  My facebook feed was filled with encouraging words and virtual hugs; just exactly what my heart needed to keep moving forward through the messy, bloody, painful last few miles of this marathon.

~~

When I got my grad school schedule for the year and planned it all out, I was supposed to have started this current module in the beginning of April and continued through until the beginning of July; my next one-week off break not until July 3.  I had thought to plan a getaway that weekend over the summer, so when I got the actual schedule just a few weeks ago I was really bummed to find out I won’t get that break in July – but, I get a break starting 18 of May for a week and a half.   Now, I am desperate for and extremely happy about the break coming in just a week’s time, where I can focus all my energy on finishing this field service still sane, and not have the constant worry of grad school weighing on my shoulders.

~~

This morning, when I was really struggling to find the energy to get out of bed after yet another night of anxious restlessness, I got an email from one of the highest level surgeons up in Tana, with some photos showing their team using the Checklist.  He was a bit resistant to implementation as quickly as we were pushing for; to hear, with no prompting, that his team is using it proudly and ensuring safer surgical experiences for all their patients was just exactly the encouragement I needed to get up and face another day.

~~

Throughout this last two days I’ve had packed in several meetings, our annual thank-you reception on board the ship for our local and governmental partners, quite a long to-do list and also needed time to do school work, sleep, laundry, and pack again as I fly out tomorrow morning for more follow-up trips.  It was going to be tight and I was dreading it.  How would I get it all done?  And then, as it turns out, I was able to finish so much more than anticipated; time seem expanded, my team pulled through and got stuff done for me, meetings proceeded smoothly and the thank-you reception even got finished early! 

~~

He knows.

That is the beauty of trust in the creator of all things; of this organization, of all the places I’m visiting and the people I get to meet and work with and encourage and empower to greater things, of my own story and the stress I am feeling and the anxiety that keeps me up at night. 

He knows.  And He hasn’t brought me all this way, all the way here, to abandon me.  

This I know for sure. 

So I head out again tomorrow, on this giant impossible mission that is happening right before my eyes; the mission to bring hope and healing in places there is none, to shine light into the darkness, to pursue hope and truth and life to the full.

May it be so – in them, and in me. 

Flying over Madagascar, somewhere between Antananarivo and Maintirano last week.

Finish well.

It’s something we hear a lot this time of year; push through, it’s almost the end, you’ve got this, finish well.  We’re in the last two miles of the marathon, trying to find the energy to keep putting one foot in front of the other, cheered on by our families and supporters and the hope of a coming holiday.

I don’t feel like I am finishing particularly well.  I actually feel like I am on my hands and knees, gasping for breath, finding the last portion of grit and determination in the depths of my soul to make it to the finish line regardless of how bloodied my knees are from crawling there.   But I will not give up, I will make it, and then I will collapse into the goodness that is rest in the form of a holiday with a friend in the mountains of southern France.  I wish I was finishing better; I wish I was still running and smiling and looking forward to the after party.  I’ve said yes to too many things this year, cramming too much in the last miles of the race.  I see it and I own it and I plan to do things a bit differently next year, but for now, survival is the word.

But if I can take my eyes off myself and my little story and my bleeding knees and my weary heart; if I can move beyond the selfish pity party wallowing and look up, look around, and look back; if I open my eyes and really see what has been accomplished in the last ten months, I am in awe.  The lame that now walk, the dignity restored, the outcast welcomed back home again.  The nurses that have learned to ease pain and comfort their patients, the midwives who get to breathe life into newborns and hand them alive, pink and screaming, not blue and limp, to their new mammas, the surgeons who can continue to bring hope to the patient who once had none.  The operating rooms that now offer safer surgery, across the country.  The anesthetist who was so excited to tell me how, because of what she had learned in a course, she was able to save a life and taught all her colleagues how to do it, too. The hundreds and thousands of lives that have been touched by a common purpose; to bring hope and healing. 

And we aren’t done yet.

Four weeks until I wave goodbye to Madagascar for what I hope isn’t the last time in my life; this stunning place was never on my radar or list of places I wanted to visit, but now has become a part of who I am.  Three weeks left for patients on the ward, two weeks of surgery, one more training course. There will be lots of goodbyes and thank-yous and celebrations; lots of final reports to write, connections to make, and plans to finalize for our arrival to Benin in August.  I’ve got a few more cities and hospitals to visit; a few more flights and hotels and details to sort out.  I’m still managing not to flunk out of grad school, which seems miraculous in itself some days, so will need to keep that going as well. It's full, but it's beautiful, and I hope that I can keep my eyes up on the beauty of it all. 

Thank you, friends, family, supporters, readers; I couldn’t make it to the end of this marathon without you.

Sunset over Tana, May 5 2016

xxk

The best laid plans....

“The best laid plans of mice and men oft go awry…”

It’s a paraphrase from a Scottish poem.  (more info here) And also a dangling comment made by a few different people in different conversations recently as I have been navigating a difficult few days.  (“the best laid plans….)

It’s true. They do. 

My job is planning. And then executing those plans.  In the next four weeks I am running trainings for almost three hundred people in Antananarivo, organizing the logistical details for that and the sixteen different people coming and going to make them happen (I am the consistent one)… follow up visits in five different cities, a few important governmental and partnership meetings thrown in for good measure, discussing and planning for next field service and writing reports for the current one.  Oh, and not flunking out of graduate school.

It’s always like this at the end of the field service but this year it seems a bit more… insane, I guess.  I’m carrying more responsibility and I’m a detailed planner (when necessary) so to manage all this had settled details and paperwork and supplies and organization well in advance…

Which is great until those best laid plans go awry.  Which they have.

And it makes me realize a few things. (again.)

No matter how much control I think I have? I don’t.  People need to leave unexpectedly and others fall ill and things get turned in (three weeks) late and all of that is out of my hands.  And then we throw in flight changes and some more team changes and a cyclone heading our direction and I almost start laughing from the absurdity of it.

The absurdity of my belief that if I work hard enough, things will be perfect.

I’m also laughing because the alternative is ugly crying, and let’s face it, laughing is just a better option.

So I’m adding “secure for sail” to my to-do list, in case Fantala really starts wreaking havoc and the ship has to ride it out at sea.  It’s just a real hassle, since we have to cancel surgery and evacuate patients and it would really be great if Fantala would just turn around.  So if you are the praying type, please pray for that.

from http://www.hurricanezone.net/#19s, with my colorful labels!

And I’m releasing what control I think I have into the universe, focusing on what is in front of me, trusting that none of this is a surprise to the Creator of it all.  Thank you, friends and family, for your support, encouragement, pep talks and love.  I’ll take every bit I can get at the moment.

xxK

Ideas and Dreams.

I’ve been thinking a lot about the difference between ideas and dreams.

Mine is an intellect that loves language and recently I realized I had been using the wrong term. And I was actually missing out because of it.

I’ve got a whole lot of passion for this work, this organization, these people we serve and heal and love and set free in more ways than one. I have gifts and skills and abilities and strengths that are needed here, and I love that.  I also had in my head what I thought were dreams for the future; ideas to build on and pour my passion and heart and life into...   How could it not work out, really, when it’s all for good and it’s all for God?

But at the same time, it’s been hard. Really hard. And I keep feeling like with every step forward there is a step back, or two or three.  And a plethora of difficult conversations and interactions and comments have led to me finally realizing, much to my dismay, that one particular dream just isn’t going to happen.

So there I was, grieving the death of a dream, when the still small voice whispered my love, your dreams are too small. 

What I thought was a dream was really only a good idea.

Ideas are good.  Ideas are necessary.  But ideas are small compared to dreams.

Because an idea can be squashed by one person or a few or even an organization, because they aren’t interested or they aren’t ready or it doesn’t seem to fit in the box. 

A dream can’t. 

And an idea is something I can probably pull off under my own strength with the right set of circumstances.

A dream requires a bit of the divine to bring it into reality.

I want dreams.  I am sad my idea won’t go anywhere, at least for now, but in the big picture of life and truth and destiny, it’s the dreams that transform nations and planets and people and lives; it’s the dreams that open heaven to earth to move mountains and bring hope and healing and peace and light to dark places. 

I want to dream big.  I want you to dream big.  Let’s dream big together. 

Alleluia.

Jesus Christ is risen today, Alleluia!
Our triumphant holy day, Alleluia!
Who did once upon the cross, Alleluia!
Suffer to redeem our loss. Alleluia!

Goosebumps rose up on my arms as the first chords of the hymn rung out on the piano.  I was immediately taken back in time to my youngest Easter Sunday memories; the new dresses and the white hats and the Easter Lilies and the choir processional up the long church aisle, regal in their ceremonial robes, following after the Cross that was no longer a sign of death and despair but of hope and life.  I didn’t understand that then; not really, to the depths that I understand it now. Back then I just couldn’t wait for the fourth verse so the trumpets would begin to play; heralding in the joyous good news that He is Risen, indeed. This morning as we sang this ancient hymn together, I half expected the trumpets to join in.  And they did, if only in my memory and my heart.

Hymns of praise then let us sing, Alleluia!
Unto Christ, our heavenly king, Alleluia!
Who endured the cross and grave, Alleluia!
Sinners to redeem and save. Alleluia!

Our heavenly king, over all tribes and tongues and nations.  There are two services I love more than anything here on the Africa Mercy: Christmas, where we sing Silent Night in several different languages; and Easter Sunday, where crew members say He is Risen in their mother tongue. It’s so beautiful.  He is Risen, it’s the same astonishing miracle proclaimed in Spanish and French and Fon and Arabic and Hindi and the dozen or so other languages represented here and the thousand represented among believers across the globe. Alleluia means praise to God, in any language.

But the pains which he endured, Alleluia!
Our salvation have procured; Alleluia!
Now above the sky he’s king, Alleluia!
Where the angels ever sing. Alleluia!

My heart aches for all the hatred in the world.  All the hurt, the desperation, the anger… I can’t even put words to what I feel.  My heart longs for unity, for love, for peace.  And here on a ship in Madagascar with friends from all over the world I get a glimpse of what God meant when he said it is good. Creation.  Not what we have done with it, but what He intended it to be, a joyful family coming together in grateful awe and thanksgiving and worship.

Sing we to our God above, Alleluia!
Praise eternal as his love; Alleluia!
Praise him, all you heavenly host, Alleluia!
Father, Son, and Holy Ghost. Alleluia!

I know across the planet today there will be millions who will sing these words or those like it; my prayer is that they would ring true, that somehow hatred would be replaced with love, violence with peace, despair with hope. May these words not just be Easter Sunday memories but believed, carried out of the building not just as a catchy tune but as a banner and a proclamation that this is what we were made for.  Hope. Joy. Truth. Together. 

Alleluia.  

Lyrics from Jesus Christ is Risen Today, penned by Charles Wesley in the 1700s.

No Reason to Panic.

As most of you know, I am passionate about transforming healthcare in Africa.  I’m passionate about helping people.   In a few conversations recently I was asked something along the lines of “what do you want to do?” and my answer was help people… do something that means something… bring life and hope… make a difference.

So almost a year ago I was accepted to the University of Liverpool Masters in Public Health program – an internationally known program at one of the world’s top universities.  I want to be able to help people even better, develop the knowledge and skills to have a greater impact and build world class programs.  As I said in my blog back then, I really wanted to do it… but only if it was right, and best, and blessed by God.  Because if it isn’t? Working a demanding job and being in grad school at the same time while flying all over the place, if it wasn’t right… well, I wasn’t interested.

The first fleece was getting in – which I did. The second? Getting the first year funded. Which it was. 

So I’ve spent the last eight and a half months balancing graduate level studies with a crazy job/crazy life.  And? I have really, really enjoyed it. I love learning. I love challenging my intellect and stretching my understanding and opening my mind to new possibilities and ideas and ways of doing things.  It has come with plenty of challenges; namely, my social life has dwindled to nearly non-existent.  But it’s a sacrifice that I think is worth it; I’ve been able to apply what I have learned very quickly and already we are seeing some of the fruit of this endeavor!

So I mentioned the first year got funded.  Well… not exactly. The first five modules got funded, which often takes people a year.  And they call it an ‘annual payment plan’ – which to me, means, yearly.  So I had it in my head that I didn’t need to worry about coming up with another big payment until July.  Well, just a few days ago I was going through paperwork and planning out how my study schedule will line up with the projects and programs we are developing for Benin next year, and saw the line that said second payment is due before unit 5.  Which I will start in May.  So that got me a little bit nervous, but with still two months to go I wasn’t panicking.  No reason to panic, right?

Well… I got a bill yesterday. And they tell me it is due on April 7.   Like, three weeks. And it is for $8,200.  Oops. Gulp.

No reason to panic.

I’m appealing to the university for the date – it clearly says it’s due before unit 5 which starts for me in MID-MAY but as of now they have yet to respond.  And the due date in fact doesn’t diminish the fact that soon, whether it is in three or nine weeks, I will owe the University of Liverpool over $8k. 

(The third payment, of the same amount, will be due before I start my dissertation research, April of 2017)

Last year I had one donor give half the amount, and a few other generous donors cover the rest.  It was so easy and smooth and it was like, why on earth was I nervous?  So I am telling myself the same this year.  Except the donor who gave half will not be giving this year.  (no reason to panic).  And most of the other generous donors were anonymous. So I don’t even know who to ask!

So, I’m inviting you all into this – my ask is this – will you consider helping me fund my Masters in Public Health, so I can keep helping people, better?  I don’t need it to be able to help people, I know that.  I just want to use the gifts and abilities that I have to the best I can and right now I really believe that includes this – feeding my intellect, my thirst for knowledge, my hunger for more ways and ideas and credibility in the field.  If I were to want to do this thing that I do with any other organization, an MpH is usually a base requirement. 

Feel free to pass on my request to anyone else who might have means and a special love for education.  I’m desperately debt-averse and am not interested in taking out loans.  (it took a whole lot of work to get to be debt free... and I am a volunteer... gracious donations cover my living expenses only)  Donations can be made to my Mercy Ships account (banner on the right side of this page or link below) and those are tax deductible for you but I do have to pay taxes on that ‘income’ so not all of it will go to my schooling.  I also have bank accounts in WA and MN states and am happy to email bank transfer information or addresses of helpful friends/family in those places that can make a deposit for me...  I also have paypal... I can also give you the information for the bursary of the University of Liverpool directly.  So there are options. And if you don’t like any of those, but still want to support me in this endeavor, please do just contact me and we can figure something out.

I know there is so much need in the world.  I see it every single day.  I know you all see gofundme requests and donation letters and more and more need in the world and everyone wants to have your money.  All of that is real, and hard.  I see it.  I know it.  I wish I could help everyone, too.  And I am doing what I can do.   

Thanks for your consideration and please don’t hesitate to contact me with any questions!

Love and gratitude, Krissy
link to my donor page: http://mercyships-us.donorpages.com/crewmates/closek 

My view this morning as I watched the sunrise and repeated to myself, 'no reason to panic, no reason to panic'