One of the local craftsmen who sell wood carvings and leather doodads to our ship shop had a wife who was pregnant. When it was time for her to give birth, it became apparent that she would need a caesarean. So they sent the man off to buy blood for his wife, in case she needed a transfusion. (The way it works here is if you need blood, you have to buy it.) But while he was away trying to get the money he needed, they went ahead with the surgery and lost both the mother and the baby. It was devastating for the man, but not an uncommon occurrence here. A friend of mine who runs an organization called Babies Without Milk to raise money to feed infants whose mothers have died, told me about one local family in which the young mother came down with malaria and died. No one took her to the doctor or even bothered to buy medicine because they all figured she'd pull through. Life is fragile. No less in the US than here, although we like to think we've found a million ways to preserve it. There are still no guarantees.
So tell people you love them, goshdarnit! Well, I mean, make sure you know them and actually do love them and all. Don't just go confessing your love to random strangers or anything. But please do take the time to tell the people you love that you love them. Relationships are not meant to be disposable, but if you treat them that way you will cut yourself off from everything that makes life matter. ...And while we're on the subject, children are not pets. Nor are they hobbies you can pick up and then slough off at will. They are people, and they are worth every bit of time and energy it takes to raise them! I'm not saying you need to drop everything you like to do and sign them up for soccer, ballet, judo, acting lessons, and tutoring. I am saying that when your little darling does something foolish or cruel, you discipline them lovingly. You work hard to be kind and generous and always keep your word because you know that your kids are watching, and they will judge themselves and others by the standard you set. I'm saying you put down your books and gadgets and play with them. And when they ask you hard questions, you take the time to answer honestly and from your heart. I'm saying you delight in them. You call out good things in them. You sacrifice your happiness for their good. And you pray for them all the time.
Ahem. I don't know where that came from. I watch these silly movies and tv shows, and get all worked up when the main character pretty much throws his/her family away in pursuit of something that will turn out to be empty. Don't do it! I yell at the screen, Stop right there, get back in your car and drive home to your wife and kids! They never listen. It's like they aren't even watching the show.
In other news, I am officially coming back to teach at the Mercy Ships Academy next year! If all goes according to plan, we'll be working in Congo, docked at Point Noir. With this in mind, my summer plans run thusly: 1) Fly from Conakry to Seattle and split about three-ish weeks between family and friends in Washington and family and friends in California, 2) Fly out to the IOC in Texas (I don't know what the acronym stands for, it's like the US headquarters for Mercy Ships) for several weeks of training, and 3) Fly back out to the Africa Mercy which will probably be docked somewhere in the Canary Islands. On the one hand, I'm so excited to see you all I can't hardly contain myself. On the other hand, I don't know how I'm going to squish a year's worth of hugging and visiting with all-y'all into those piddly three weeks. And on the third hand, I'm excited to see Congo and all the cool things that'll happen when we're there. I may just be an emotional basket case for a while. Fair warning.
I just want to thank you, again, for helping me come here and teach these wonderful kids in this beautiful corner of the world. We come and go and do amazing things every day, so that it eventually becomes routine. But I'm not taking any of it for granted, and I know that the people we help in Guinea aren't either. My friends and I were in the market this morning looking for fabric and a man shouted out "Mercy Ships! I love you!" when he saw us. It felt kind of silly at the time, because how do you respond to that? But the truth is that the man knew that we were from the ship, and that the ship was doing something good, if not for him or his family, then for his country. And since you are all a part of my being here, I pass his sentiments on to you. Thank you. And (because I take my own advice) I love you!
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