trusted and treasured

I've been wondering lately how much it's ok to dream.... to see hope realized... to see vision not just birthed but fulfilled... to dare to dream beyond what the eye can see. It makes me wonder how many times I miss out because I've been too scared to embrace a dream that is beyond the natural and, I guess, seemingly impossible. Cos what if you don't see your dreams come true? It's not easy is it... faith... trust... they're tricky things. But then if we don't dream, do we just stay where we are? What does it mean to risk and believe? What can I learn about who God is whilst I wait? Is there stuff in the way of my dreams coming true? Heart stuff? Or am I just off my rocker to even dream some of the stuff in my heart?

I was reminded of the story of how my floating home was purchased the other day. It left me in awe, quite honestly. What if these people who had gone before me hadn't dared to dream? What if they'd given up at the first hurdle? Or not even at the first but the 101st? What if they had? What if they decided that the vision they had was too big and too much effort? Too costly? Too vulnerable a place to be? Too crazy to cling on to? Too much risk of looking a fool? Too much daring to dream? Think of the thousands of people who have had surgery who wouldn't have had it. Think of the gazillion seeds of hope that may never have been planted in people's hearts. Think of the suffering. Think of all the lives being lived in a way less than all they had been created for. Think of all of us who work in this beautifully crazy place who wouldn't get to live here and, through it, become more of who we were made to be. Surely it's too costly not to dream?

I think dreaming must be connected to my favourite phrase of this season; Trusted and Treasured. I'm realizing more and more how incredibly empowering both of these things are. It's part of why I love life here. I feel trusted and treasured. There are people who believe in me to do a good job, people who trust me with things that are way bigger than me and things that God puts on my plate that are simply way out of my comfort zone. Being trusted and treasured empowers me to dream. It empowers me to be bigger than me. If I think back to times when I haven't felt trusted or treasured, I begin to realize how powerfully disabling it has been... and it's not all about me... it's pure joy for me to be able to trust and treasure others too. In fact it's one of my favourite things to do.

Being Trusted and Treasured is a great picture of the body at work.

1 Corinthians 12 (The Message) 'For no matter how significant you are, it is only because of what you are a part of. An enormous eye or a gigantic hand wouldn't be a body, but a monster. What we have is one body with many parts, each its proper size and in its proper place. No part is important on its own. Can you imagine Eye telling Hand,Get lost; I don't need you? Or, Head telling Foot; You're fired; your job has been phased out?'

As I think of these last few months, I sometimes wonder where on earth I am living and what an incredible body I am part of. Most evenings I go for sun set swims just a few decks up, I share my life with some of the richest hearts I have ever met, I work alongside some of the most compassionate and servant hearted people the world has ever seen and share rich rich moments with them - some rejoicing and some deeply sad, I go on hot and sweaty adventures at the weekend that take me to random deserted beaches, I roll up my sleeves and get to be part of an incredible patient selection day back in August where we saw thousands of people who received seeds of hope for the future, and this week flew to the capital city of Brazzaville to do more the same. I see God's power bursting out all over and I see Him stretching and moulding me - all the flipping time, I somehow think it's normal to hear a baby crying in the Hospital one deck below me as I try to fall asleep, I work in a place where the hum drum of every day is always superseded by life and love and hope being birthed in people's hearts... and at the end of every day, I get to look up at the wonky southern hemisphere moon and feel oh-so-small.

And if I ponder on it all too much... I feel slightly exhausted. But in truth, I'm not exhausted, I'm very very full. It's been a fantastic few months of watching this beautiful body at work and there isn't anywhere I'd rather be. You might need to remind me of that now and then.

So let's learn more of what it is to trust and treasure each other shall we? Because that's what empowers the body to work as one and to be fully ourselves. And then we get to dream. We weren't made to potter about just getting through each day. Were we? I hope not. Let's trust and treasure and reach and believe. Believe that there is more, believe that it's not the end of the story. Let's dream big. Really big.

So here's to the precious ones who have trusted and treasured me and here's to God who does the same. May you too feel trusted and treasured until you dare to dream the dreams that are deeply hidden in your hearts... can't wait to hear about them one day.

Love always, KWW

We have to be braver than we think we can be, because God is constantly calling us to be more than we are... Madeleine L'Engle

my love, you're worth it all

My love you’re worth it all…

I finished my dinner and wandered down through the far front of the ship and up the stairs to a place that I knew would lead me to life. I’d been cooped up in meetings all day and I needed to come up for breath. The Bow. I love this place. It’s a place that richly exhibits both magnificence and beauty; peace and solitude; awe and majesty. As I leaned over the railings and hung my head down to enjoy one of my most favourite sights, the waves crashed and revealed a million shades of blue and an almost glass like almighty splash. I looked up and saw a pod of dolphins leaping before me. Is this normal? Who gets to do this?

Only a few days before I had been lamenting on the ‘cost ‘ of being here. I was reflecting on a 3 week break at home that was far richer than I could begin to describe. I was so grateful to be loved, to love, to be home and to soak in the array of fresh delights poured out by my Maker. The scents of summer flowers and tastes of berried fruit were lingering in my heart to the point of feeling a little overwhelmed and I realized again… it gets harder to say goodbye every time.

My heart was full of thanks, but as I curled up in my little cabin, I couldn’t help but long for a window to send me a fresh breeze carrying sweet birdsong and I was forced into realizing that the cost of spending another year in this steel can is actually… very real. I don’t tell you so you can feel sorry for me or think how great I am – I am more than aware that you make huge sacrifices too. They look different, but I know you make them. But I guess you’d tell me, ‘it’s worth it’ and the same is true for me. I love Jesus and no matter what the cost – no matter how much harder it gets to say goodbye – no matter how much I desire fresh breeze or a homegrown raspberry to pass through my lips – it’s worth it.

So as I take in the sights of our 13 day sail and look to all that is ahead in Congo and as I reflect on all the beauty that I have said goodbye to, I know it’s worth it. And that’s what my God says to me too – ‘my love, you’re worth it all’. It brings me to my knees as I realize how He has rescued me and that my measly sacrifices are nothing compared to His.

I look forward to another year of seeing Him live and breathe and move and bring transformation to the community I live in as well as to the patients we will get to work with. I have just come in from laying on deck looking up at the stars and I’m wondering if it would have been possible to squeeze one more star in that beautiful night sky or indeed one more ounce of love into my heart. I’m gonna soak this up for now and wait expectantly as we draw closer to our new home for the next 10 months. Soon after we arrive, the Hospital will spring back into action. A few thousand surgeries, no doubt, but more than that – some more people who will discover that they’re worth it all too. Not much gets better than that.

Love forever KWW

May you personally know how valued you are, so that the potential within you will emerge and touch the world as intended, may your beautiful feet be amongst those that bring good news and may mercy, grace and goodness  follow you all the days of your life. May your neighborhood and community know the saving grace and freedom that Heaven above intended, may you know the One who keeps you so in turn we will watch over one another, that we will allow ourselves to be His planting… and that together we will all stand one day as beautiful, mature, risen sons and daughters who understand the days we were entrusted with. Amen! (adapted from something I read somewhere some place and I’m not totally sure where…)

worth it all

I finished my dinner and wandered down through the far front of the ship and up the stairs to a place that I knew would lead me to life. I'd been cooped up in meetings all day and I needed to come up for breath. The Bow. I love this place. It's a place that richly displays both magnificence and beauty; peace and solitude; awe and majesty. As I leaned over the railings and hung my head down to enjoy one of my most favourite sights, the waves crashed and revealed a million shades of blue and an almost glass like almighty splash. I looked up and saw a pod of dolphins leaping before me. Is this normal? Who gets to do this?

Only a few days before I had been lamenting on the 'cost ' of being here. I was reflecting on a 3 week summer break at home that was far richer than I could begin to describe. I was so grateful to be loved, to love, to be home and to soak in the array of fresh delights poured out by my Maker. The scents of summer flowers and tastes of berried fruit were lingering in my heart to the point of feeling a little overwhelmed and I realized again: it gets harder to say goodbye every time.

My heart was full of thanks, but as I curled up in my little cabin, I couldn't help but long for a window to send me a fresh breeze carrying sweet birdsong and I was forced into realizing that the cost of spending another year in this steel can is actually... very real. I don't tell you so you can feel sorry for me or think how great I am - I am more than aware that you make huge sacrifices too. They look different, but I know you make them. But I guess you'd tell me, 'it's worth it' and the same is true for me. I love Jesus and no matter what the cost - no matter how much harder it gets to say goodbye - no matter how much I desire fresh breeze or a homegrown raspberry to pass through my lips - it's worth it.

So as I take in the sights of our 13 day sail and look to all that is ahead in Congo and as I reflect on all the beauty that I have said goodbye to, I know it's worth it. And that's what my God says to me too - 'my love, you're worth it all'. It brings me to my knees as I realize how He has rescued me and that my measly sacrifices are nothing compared to His.

I look forward to another year of seeing Him live and breathe and move and bring transformation to the community I live in as well as to the patients we will get to work with. I have just come in from laying on deck looking up at the stars and I'm wondering if it would have been possible to squeeze one more star in that beautiful night sky or indeed one more ounce of love into my heart. I'm gonna soak this up for now and wait expectantly as we draw closer to our new home for the next 10 months. Soon after we arrive, the Hospital will spring back into action. A few thousand surgeries, no doubt, but more than that - some more people who will discover that they're worth it all too. Not much gets better than that. Bring it on.

May you personally know how valued you are, so that the potential within you will emerge and touch the world as intended, may your beautiful feet be amongst those that bring good news and may mercy, grace and goodness follow you all the days of your life. May your neighborhood and community know the saving grace and freedom that Heaven above intended, may you know the One who keeps you so in turn we will watch over one another, that we will allow ourselves to be His planting... and that together we will all stand one day as beautiful, mature, risen sons and daughters who understand the days we were entrusted with. (adapted from something I read somewhere some place once upon a time and I'm not totally sure where now...)

Love forever KWW

too big

Fire Drill Thursday: it happens every other week and sends us into mass count up mode as we account for every crew member, every patient, every translator, every caregiver, every visitor and even every passport carrying cockroach … it can take a while. Today was our first ‘at sea’ Fire Drill which means that we all have to find our emergency station on deck (as opposed to on the dock) and learn how to put a lifejacket on and what we’d do if it all went pear shaped whilst we’re at sea… that was all except for me, because there was one lonely patient left on the ward who needed some company… and more importantly because God had planned a moment of extravagance for us both.

These days I see less and less of patients and more and more of my computer screen. It’s ok and I love all the different aspects of my job, but sometimes I long for a bit of a deeper connection than passing hellos as I whistle through the wards. So today, during the drill, I got to chat to Thierno for about half an hour. My French isn’t well polished but somehow the simple sentences I pickled together, said it better than I think fancy ones could. They brought a childlike simplicity to the truths I was trying to express and as I did so, the enormity of what God has done these last 10 months sank in some more. It’s too big. The enormity isn’t just for Thierno and it’s not even just for all of the hundreds of patients who have walked up and down our gangway, it’s for me too. He’s removed some of my very own more subtle ‘tumours’ - those life sucking lumps of destruction that had sat themselves deep in my spirit – yep, He’s cut a few out of me too.

This is the heart of what we shared:

-          God is a God of the impossible – yep, that means nothing is impossible

-          God’s love is extravagant – endless, overwhelming, more than enough

-          There is nothing more beautiful than watching people love each other

-          Africa has taught me how to love and to put people above getting stuff done

-          My heart has never been this full … not ever… and he said the same about his with a huge ‘ugh!’ and disbelieving shake of the head

He stood with me and nodded over and over as we reflected on God’s goodness. He explained how he’d heard about the ship on the radio and how he’d made the 3 day journey to get here, he pointed to each of the 7 beds he had occupied over the course of the last 10 months. He shook his head in disbelief and his eyes shone with deep gratitude. I found myself thinking, ‘I don’t think he is a Christian’… and as the thought popped into my head, I realised how ridiculous it sounded. I’m not sure what label he would give himself, and I’m no longer even sure what a ‘Christian’ is, but He knows who God is and he knows how good He is – of that there is no doubt. I need to get rid of my labels. This man is beautiful. He displays a heart full of humility, love and gratitude. He knows what it is like to nearly die and he knows what it is like to be rescued. He knows depths and darkness that I pray I will never know… yet he knows the richness of new life and a freedom for which he has no words. He is a man full of hope and a man who has blessed me more than he will ever know. He is a man who shows me the heart of God whether he realises it or not. I asked him what his dreams are for the future.; good health, a job and a wife… will you pray for him with me?

I can’t wrap my head around it and I probably shouldn’t even try. It’s too big, too beautiful, too much…

God of the impossible, I love you.

His banner over me

Standing on this mountaintop

Looking just how far we’ve come

Knowing that for every step

You were with us

... this song has been circling through my head for the last week or so, and as I reflect on 10 months in Guinea, my heart swells as I thank God for all He has done. There’s thousands of patients who have had surgery with us – some very simple – some major – all covered with a love and a grace from a God who loves each one.

There’s stories that I can’t even believe are over – ones where God taught me so much about taking Him at His word; He really is a God of the impossible you know. As I think of Thierno who was with us back in September before he had his massive tumour removed, I remember the days when we really wondered if he would even make it to surgery. He was so weak and his tumour was sucking the very life out of him. I found an email the other day that was calling our team to a 24 hour prayer time for him. In it I had quoted the verse from Ephesians 3:20-21; Now to him who is able to do immeasurably more than all we ask or imagine, according to his power that is at work within us, to him be glory in the church and in Christ Jesus throughout all generations, for ever and ever! Amen.

As I read it, my eyes filled with tears as I realized where we had come. Thierno is now back sitting on our ward having had some further surgery. He looks great. He’s had his ups and downs… but there is no denying that God has done more than we could have asked or imagined in this man’s life. Where he was weak, skinny and could hardly breathe, he is strong, sturdy and breathing with ease. He carries a shy smile and a confidence that suggests that he’s not just had his life sucking tumour removed, but the life sucking hopelessness has lifted too. As he sat with another patient a couple of weeks ago when she was going through some similar struggles, he encouraged her and told her to, ‘…take courage… they fought for my life’. When we work with people who don’t speak our language and even have to go through 2 or 3 different translators to be understood, it’s not always easy to know what has been communicated or what you have inadvertently miscommunicated. But what I love about this place is that love and hope translate. Our amazing Hospital team has poured out love on Theirno beyond measure – and he knows it. He’s felt it. He looks like someone who hope has descended on. He looks like someone who is believing again that he is somebody and that there are plans to prosper him and not to harm him. What a privilege.

I have heard time and time again comments from patients that say the same. Earlier this year one of our VVF ladies told one of the nurses how she was going to go home to her village and tell them, ‘what love looks like’ and just this week, a father of one of the kids who had ortho surgery told us passionately how although he hadn’t been healed physically, that through his daughters stay with us, he had been healed emotionally and spiritually. Now this is more than I can ask or imagine. These aren’t things that can be taught, these are things that are received deep in people’s hearts and it thrills me.

Our God goes to the ends of the earth to show us how much He loves us. As I reflect on the thousands of orthopedic, eye, vvf, maxillo facial and plastics surgeries that have taken place in this little boat of hope, it fills me with a deep down knowledge that there’s a God out there who loves me too. A God who showers out His grace, who lifts out the parts of me that have been tainted with untruth and that have sucked the life out of me and He fills them with life bursting truth. He’s a God who reminds me that He made me for a purpose and that in it all… His banner over me is love.

1 Corinthians 13 tells us what love looks like so well:

If I give everything I own to the poor and even go to the stake to be burned as a martyr, but I don’t love, I’ve gotten nowhere. So, no matter what I say, what I believe, and what I do, I’m bankrupt without love. Love never gives up, Love cares more for others than for self, Love doesn’t want what it doesn’t have.
Love doesn’t strut,
doesn’t have a swelled head,
doesn’t force itself on others,
isn’t always “me first,”
doesn’t fly off the handle,
doesn’t keep score of the sins of others,
doesn’t revel when others grovel,
takes pleasure in the flowering of truth,
puts up with anything,
trusts God always,
always looks for the best,
never looks back,
but keeps going to the end.

I wanna love like that…. and I want to know that I am loved like that. I mean deep down in my heart, know that I’m loved like that Because it’s from that place that I can reach for the impossible… when I reach from a place of what I see or a place of disappointment at what I have or haven’t seen or from a place of human possibility, I lose courage and I lose hope. When I rest in this kind of love, I reach boldly and begin to believe again that my God is a God of the impossible.

Guinea 2012/13: I’m so thankful to you for all the many lessons you have taught me… I will hold your people in my heart as well as all the ways I have seen my faithful God of the impossible at work. May your nation be changed by the love that has been poured out and may it continue to bring life to your hurting and dry places. Thank you for all the ways you have breathed life into me…

…Never once did we ever walk alone

Never once did You leave us on our own

You are faithful, God, You are faithful

(for the full song check out Matt Redman: Never Once)

His banner over you is love too you know… outrageous bucket loads of love and grace to you,  KWW

(looking forward to catching up with you during a 3 week break at home in June before we head to The Republic of Congo for 10 months in late July. Whooooooop!)

known

The air is beautifully cold and I can feel its richness as I take my first lung full. It’s what I’ve been waiting for. Fresh and cold. It makes a part of me that has laid dormant, come alive. It’s home and I can feel my God singing His love song over me.  I sneaked back for a visit to break up our 10 months in Guinea to escape my floating boat and catch up with friends, family, roast chicken and some cooler air.

I guess maybe it sounds funny though, that a trip home should leave me wondering who I am, but it did. I tasted all the things that have made me, me and found the familiarity both rich and unsettling. I took cliff walks, trampled the moor and giggled endlessly with my nieces and nephews but I can’t ignore the unsettled feeling it brings. Who am I? My conversations don’t always fit well and somehow I found myself often feeling like I was floating on the edge of all that was going on. It’s nothing to do with anyone or anything being wrong… it’s just a weird clash in my depths – in the part of me that wants to belong… because it feels like I should but I know the cost of living somewhere else means I don’t – not totally anyway. It’s an unexpected part of going home, and it set me on a journey of equally unexpected discovery.

You see, if who I am depends on who others think I am, it’ll never work. I’ve tried it and all I do is end up in a tangle of trying to fit into the expectations of others and end up diluting who I really am. I fought it for a few days but came to a place where I realized it was ok to be me. Not only that – but I must be me, I must embrace who I am, I must not waste my time being someone else or who I once was. Being away from my floating home made me miss the intimacy with Jesus that I find there. I wish I could grab hold of it elsewhere, but honestly, I struggle to. My love for God, creator of the world, the one who is constantly in the process of making me whole, who pursues me endlessly, desperately wanting me to become more of who He made me to be, is central to who I am and without it, I feel empty and at un ease. I don’t feel fully me. I don’t want anything else to define who I am and may be that’s why ‘going back’ is unsettling. It reminds me of who I have been and somehow gets in the way of who I am.

As I gathered myself to return, my heart was full of thanks. Thankful for time to breathe and be and treasure all that is home. I listened to the birds chirping in the trees and took in one last eye full of spring flowers. I looked up at the moon and breathed, deeply. I tried to take it all in and wondered if anyone else had even noticed the beauty in front of me? Does it hold as much beauty when you see it every day? Somehow I don’t think it possibly can. I let it fill my heart and it was like I didn’t want it to end, like I wanted to hold onto these moments at home forever… and yet, I couldn’t wait to get back and be part of an adventure that is so much bigger than me.

No wonder then, when I heard of one of our patients and his experience of love so moving. He was sitting on a chair having had his post op wound check when his nurse noticed he seemed reluctant to get up and go. She asked him if there was anything else she could do for him and so he explained. He had been so amazed at the way he had been treated when he had his facial tumour removed and explained how the nurses had loved him and taken such good care of him. He shared that he had heard of our God but now that he’d seen how much love we had and what God looked like, he wanted to know more. Now he’d seen how much love we had, he wanted to know more. Isn’t that beautiful? Oh… it brings tears to my eyes because that’s exactly why I’m here… I long for people to meet my incredible God who is so good. The One who gives me Hope. The One who gives me identity, the One who made me, me.  And it’s then I start to realize again: this is who I am. This is where I belong. I love this place. I love that my days are full of mangos, life transforming surgeries and friends from all around the world who speak love and life and get excited about this crazy place as much as I do. I love it and know that this is where I was made to be… for now.

I’m so thankful to know that because it releases me from being anyone else. It helps me embrace who I am and be left satisfied, not longing to be someone else. It releases me to love and to celebrate my friends and family for who they were created to be. And even if not everyone knows who I really am inside, I know there’s a God who really knows me, cos He made me. And there isn’t anything more precious than that… it’s been an unexpectedly beautiful journey of discovery.

Love you precious friends and so happy to be known by you and to know you.

KWW

Abundant 2013

I sometimes forget…

that I live in West Africa. Living on a ship means I easily forget that there’s an outside world where rain falls and thunder clatters, that there are cool breezes (and hot ones too) and flowers that smell and butterflies that flutter – huge ones, tiny ones, in all sorts of colours. I sometimes forget that there are rainbows in the tumbling waterfalls and that there’s lush lush greenery blanketing the dramatic landscape – mountains and never ending plateaus. I sometimes forget the beauty of village life – the baby having a roadside bath, held precariously by one arm over a bucket, the girls - necks bent, having their hair braided ready for a new week, the squealing chickens and goats tied to the tops of taxis and the flamboyant colours that make up a woman’s dress. I sometimes forget the giggles of small children at the sight of a ‘white man’, the awe I feel as I look onward at a woman carrying a heavy load on her head and a baby on her back, or the beads of sweat on a young boys forehead as he carries tonight’s firewood home. I sometimes forget what it’s like to laugh – really laugh – and I remember as I stand under a waterfall’s pounding flumes. I so easily forget the joy and deep peace that sweeps over me as I hear birds tweeting in the tress and the bright yellow weaver birds tending to their nests.

I remember thinking the same when we were sailing last – those twinkling blues seas and leaping dolphins, the flying fish showing off their iridescent blues and the incredible starry night skies. It took a weekend away a few hours north from the hustle and bustle of life in a steel can to remember… but it leaves me wondering – are these beauties there all the time? Does that rich rolling landscape get folded up and put away when I’m not there to look at it? I wonder if the trees and butterflies are just playing along? Where does it all go when there’s no-one to ‘wow’ at this creative bliss? Does it all get packed up and filed away? Does God run a few steps ahead of us saying, ‘crikey! she’s on her way! Butterflies - take your place, Mountain - get back there! And Thunder, I thought I told you to clatter! That’s it… good job guys, she’s enjoying it’….???!!! But truth is, it’s there all the time. I need to marvel more.

The reason this all touches me so much, why I find myself saying, ‘ohhhhhh… sorrrry! I’ve been living life in my beige steel box… forgetting that there is beauty and butterflies… sometimes I forget’. And it makes me think of all the ways I choose beige over butterflies. Where I choose disappointment over hope, guilt over grace, incessant worry over peace, bitterness over forgiveness, lack over praise and thanks… and all the time, God is so desperately wanting to invade my life with love, life, colour, power, joy, laughter, hope. God is so good… and sometimes I forget. It’s there all the time.

And even on this beige steel box, there’s plenty of beauty. You should see the ortho kids walking up and down the corridor with their legs all in casts, cheering each other on, ‘bravo, bravo!!’. VVF surgery starts this week and I can’t wait to sense their joy as they put on cloaks of joy and leave behind their spirits of despair. I’m encouraged as I see tumours disappearing and life being poured in. It’s sunday evening and a new week is about to begin.. bring it on….

Love always, KWW