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| Patricia, assisted by chaplain Clementine, admires herself in the mirror before her dress ceremony |
“Thank you for your love”: Patricia a young woman stood with
8 other women in front of a celebrating crowd. Just a week before she sat
watching a similar celebration with tears streaming down her face. Whether
those tears were for the joy she had in another’s healing, nervousness for her
own outcome, or sadness at a memory remembered from a painful past I don’t
know. On this day, however, there are no tears. When it is Patricia’s turn to
share she is so filled with joy that she cannot speak at first, so she sings.
Voices join hers and our God, the one who is the true healer, is praised. She
tells us a little of her story, her embarrassment at university. She tells how
she had grown so tired of wearing diapers to school. The embarrassment seemed
to prove too much, but just as she decided to drop out and end her education
God provided Mercy Ships and free surgery. She is going back to school, dry and
no more diapers! After the celebration I walk an excited group of ladies out of
the ship and we share last minute hugs as we say goodbye one last time on the
dock. As I embrace Patricia she very softly says in my ear these 5 words: Thank
you for your love.
Mercy Ships is unique when it comes to sharing the gospel.
They follow an incarnational model when sharing about Christ. Incarnational
differs from proclamational in that its main focus isn’t on preaching the
message of the gospel and proclaiming it to those around us. Incarnational
means the focus is on living like Jesus and allowing his love and truth to be
spoken though how we live and interact with those around us. It doesn’t mean
that we never speak the truths of God’s word; it means that we seek to
demonstrate those truths as we live it out.
What does this look like within the hospital? Its hospital
chaplains who lead the ward in a daily devotion and songs, but also spend hours
in the ward getting to know patients, counselling and being a listening ear.
Its nurses who pray for patients and each other out in the open and treat each
other, our local day crew and patients with compassion, kindness, respect and
love. Its day crew who are able to speak freely in our patients own language,
and showing Christ’s love in the way they care. It’s not making it difficult
for our Muslim patients to pray even though they pray to a different god, but
instead treat these patients with the same love and respect we treat our
Christian patients. Its nonhospital crew members coming down to the wards and
bringing art projects to share or committing to visit a longer stay patient
during the time they are with us. It’s loving a community when out in town and
treating everyone with respect and kindness.
While Jesus was a teacher and a preacher, his message didn’t
end with the words he spoke. Jesus is relational. When the blind man and the
leper came to Jesus they were shown kindness. Jesus touched them, He healed them
and then He spoke words of wisdom. When Zacchaeus, a sinner, sought Him out
Jesus offered friendship and love. We are commanded in the bible to show this
same kind of love. “A new command I give to you, that you love one another:
just as I have loved you, you also are to love one another. By this all people
will know that you are my disciples, if you have love for one another” (John
13:34 -35).
One of our first weeks in Cameroon we invited 3 religious
leaders onto the ship: A Christian pastor, a Muslin Imam and a traditionalist.
They shared about their beliefs and answered questions so that we as a ship
community would better understand our patients and the community in which we
were now living. The traditionalist had grown up in a family who practiced the
Christian religion and had left the church in search of answers. He said
something that saddens me. He thanked us for his time on the ship and for the
relationship he had built with the crewmember and day crew who had asked him to
come. He said that his experience with Mercy Ships was the first time in his
life that he had a conversation with a Christian who was not yelling at him in
anger. How can we, as Christians, show the truth of God’s word when we are not
also displaying His love in how we say it?
As I strive to be incarnational, I pray that my life also
will be reflective of God’s loves to those patients I serve, but I have
something to confess. I was nervous about being on the Women’s Health ward this
year. Not only because it was different than anything else I have ever done in
my 8 years of nursing, but because I was worried about connecting with adult
patients. Last year I had the joys of working with both adults and children.
When you don’t speak the language it is so much easier to connect with and show
love to young children. Their love languages are cuddles and play, both of
which I am good at. I also knew that since I would be charge nursing more
frequently this year on the ward than last, I would have less one on one
interaction with our patients. I was worried that I would not be able to
display the love God placed in my heart in a way that would truly be felt by my
adult patients. So even though I tried to trust God and his plan for the year,
I still worried a bit about connection, and that’s when God put Mama Aissatou
into my life.
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| My dear friend Mamma Aissatou |
Aissatou, a women from the Extreme North region of Cameroon,
was placed in the bed just behind the charge nurse deck on the ward. She has a
special place in many of the nurses’ hearts. I call her Mamma Aissatou partly
because she is older, but mostly because she mothered the ward. Mamma Aissatou
has mothered 9 babies over the years, but sadly only 4 are living. Most of
those babies were stillbirths, one of the last is what caused her fistula. She
speaks Fulfulde (a common northern dialect) and French. So she especially
looked out for those patients whom did not speak French and patiently
translated for us when our Fulfulde translator wasn’t available. Love just
poured out of her through her smile, her touch, her reassuring voice. She
helped me learn a few words in Fulfulde so that I can now greet my northern
patients when I come on shift. By the end of her stay I greeted her by calling
her “mon amie” (French for my friend).
Mamma Aissatou was discharged a day earlier than I expected
so I missed saying goodbye to her from the ward. Thankfully she returned for an
outpatients appointment on the dock a week later so I went down to find her.
She saw me first and called out for me: “mon amie!” As we embraced we both knew
it would likely be that last time we would see each other this side of heaven.
In that moment there were no translators; however, we didn’t really need one.
Love is not spoken. Love doesn’t need translation.
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