Ward nursing...a whole different world

The ward is definitely an experience in itself! I don't even know what to say.

Our little hospital opened about 10 days ago, and has slowly been filling up with pre and post-surgical patients and parents. I can't give you names or details or amazing photos right now, but maybe I can take you, just for a moment, to my world...

You walk down a long hallway and turn into a door marked only with a brightly colored curtain and a sign marked with a single letter. As you open the door you see a circle of nurses, all in blue, praying at the beginning of their shift...in English, German, and Dutch. As the prayer finishes, they report off then move through the room, checking on each of their patients, greeting them, checking morphine pumps, IV drips, and small toes at the bottom of new casts. Beds stretch along each side of the room, some filled with little people watching you solemnly, and some rumpled and empty. The little boy in the corner begins to cry, and mom rolls out from under the bed where she was sleeping to soothe and give him a drink.

A tiny brown boy toddles up to you and pats your leg, chattering happily in Mina. As you crouch down to talk with him you see that where his upper lip should be, a hole extends up into one nostril and into the back of his mouth. His mother greets you with a "como savaah" as he tugs your hand to come and join the lively Jenga game in the center of the room. Suddenly shy, he runs back to mom, who boosts him up piggy-back and ties him on with a bright piece of cloth.





A bright-eyed seven year old grins at you and invites you in Ewe to join him. He is carefully balanced on a stool, legs encased in hard plaster casually jutting out to either side. A half finished Jenga game in front of him, he carefully takes out pieces and covers his ears, afraid that the tower will crash. One of the translators is with him, and an older woman in a hospital gown. As the woman turns you can see that a whole side of his face, jaw and chin are jutting out in a huge tumor. As you start to talk with her, she tells you that she has been living with this tumor for several years, and prayed to God for help..."and then Mercy Ships came to Lome and Jesus answered my prayer!" she happily exclaims.

At that moment the Jenga game crashes, and the whole room laughs happily. One of the little girls runs around the table to help pick up, and you realize that she runs lopsided as both knees jut far out to either side. She picks up a maraca and starts to dance. Soon you are learning to dance, singing along even though you don't know the words, and trying out your limited French and tribal langages as the patients giggle at your awful pronunciation.





Down the hall are more wards, full of patients with sight restored, tumors removed, or babies in the feeding program who only weigh a few pounds because of prematurity or clefts, slowly gaining back weight. Everywhere you look, there is hope.

Often rejected by community and family, discarded as babies or seen as cursed, our patients are starved for love. While we may be the first white people they've ever seen, we may also be the first ones to ever look them full in the face and be able to see past the deformity. We love these kids and adults just as they are, seeing them through Jesus' eyes and knowing that to Him, they are beautiful.