hope

‘For Hope to be credible in the future, it needs to be tangible in the present’ (Robert Sieple)… and this is why I love my job. The dispensing of Hope has been in full swing this week with our mass Screening Day on Monday where around 3500 people passed through our teams to see if we could help them. It was a loooooong day which left my feet pounding, my heart aching and my spirit soaring. For so many, the answer was ‘no’. I am always surprised at the ease with which most receive the ‘no’s’ but this year the no’s felt harder as I realized that these beautiful people weren’t accepting ‘no’ because they were kind and gracious – well perhaps they were that too, but more than that, it dawned on me that their reaction was the result of years of learning that this is how life is – a kind of sick fatalism that has wrapped its ugly fingers around these nations of West Africa. There’s not much point in hoping too much if you’ve been waiting for years to get your dodgy heart fixed or your chronic skin disease cleared up or your leg that broke a few years ago mended… when the answer has always been ‘no’… so they accept another no like they almost didn’t expect anything else. And this breaks my heart. It’s ok – I know it’s not my responsibility to fix the world and it doesn’t weigh me down because there’s a God bigger than me and with more love and compassion than I could ever have who will continue to go to extraordinary lengths to help these people. But it hurts. These people shouldn’t have to live with so many ‘no’s’ – how are they supposed to hope for the future when there is no ounce of tangible hope… right now? So the day left me with a resounding cry in my heart – not just for Guinea, but for the World – for us all to be doing our part to bring Hope. Whether that’s helping someone down the road or restoring a relationship or working in a floating Hospital. It’s up to us to be doing it. We need to be the face of tangible hope. Let’s do it, people!

‘When a poor person dies of hunger it has not happened because God did not take care of him or her. It has happened because neither you nor I wanted to give that person what he or she needed… even the rich are hungry for love, for being cared for, for being wanted, for having someone to call their own…’ Mother Theresa

But oh, it looks so good to see hope in the eyes of those who have waited for so long; the ones who got the ‘yes’s’. I wish I could somehow bottle up the sights and emotions found as the ship becomes a Hospital again and erupts into the first day of surgery. Only 2 days previously, the now patients had no idea what was about to happen and now find themselves being tucked up into our ward beds being prepared for surgery. I always wonder what on earth is going through their heads – how it feels to climb the gangway of a big white ship and enter the freezer like conditions of the a/c. The first to walk up the ‘Hallway of Hope’ from the Ward to the Operating rooms were 3 kids with cleft lips, a man with a large lump on his forehead and a couple of guys with hernias. A few hours later, they were all fixed. Tangible Hope. I love it.

But Hope isn’t all about ‘us’ helping ‘them’. Hope is about these beautiful people showing me more about what it is to love, to keep going when life is tough, to smile with a depth of joy and gratitude that I have never seen anywhere else in the world. It’s about them sharing the wisdom that comes with living life in a country like this and all it has been through. This puts hope in my heart. When people are real and I realize again that life is so much richer than I thought. That life is about relationships and about us all helping each other to become more of who we were made to be. That life is about helping each other get rid of the stuff that gets in the way of us living in the freedom that we were created to live in. This is what fills me with hope and as much as I look forward to all the ways we can be dispensers of hope these next 9 months, I look forward to all the things that I am going to learn too. Teach me sweet Africa, I need you so much.

May you too know that tangible hope in all you long for. Love always, KWW

dispensing hope

How can I explain how it feels for a country loving girl, living in a cabin without a window where only a clock reveals the time of day, on an air conditioned ship of steel that spends most of its time in some of the poorest ports in the world, where the view consists of shipping containers, shipping containers and... some more shipping containers.... and where the horizon is filled with cargo ships waiting to shed their.... shipping containers... how can I explain what it feels for a girl who lives there, to... come home? How does it feel for a heart to get hugs from those it misses... so much... how does it feel? It's hard to put into words and all I can say is it's like discovering new treasures each time.

Do you know how it is to walk through an English country garden? The dew fresh on my flip flopped feet - my senses bathed in aromas of blooming roses, lavender, sweet peas, honey suckle and the sweet smell of tomato leaves on my hands. Heavenly. I feel like I am being romanced from on high as I take the 'walk through' garden cafe and grab a fruit salad - strawberries, raspberries, redcurrants, loganberries and a nearly ripe blackberry... juicy tangs on my lips... oh, how I miss you! Do you know how this feels? Do you? I can't explain it you see. How it feels to be around those who know me... who know I prefer raw carrots to cooked and my wellies more than... well, more than I should. It's a taste of Heaven in my heart. I've so enjoyed my time at home. There's never enough time to see and do all I want but I am thankful for the time I had. It speaks to me of a generous and loving God and gives me fuel for all that's ahead.

... it's that time of year again when we prepare to embrace getting on for nearly 100 new Hospital Staff as we approach our start up in a new country. I'm passionate about what we do - I'm excited for the 'hope and healing' we can bring on our big white ship to the people of Guinea for the next 10 months. I've just arrived in Tenerife and we set sail next week and surgery begins in the beginning of September. We want to be 'dispensers of hope'... not just to the patients but within our incredible community of 450 people as well. After all, we all need hope. I do anyway. I need that strong confident expectation in the promises of God. I need to know that this isn't the end of the story, that there is more than this, that the hurting bits can get better. And this little romanced heart is ready to get dispensing.

I'd love it if you could pray for our sail ahead, for our new team as we get together and form our visions for the months ahead and for the hope we dispense - that the little we can offer would multiply and would transform the nation of Guinea. Not just a little but beyond our wildest dreams!

Thank you for loving me, supporting me and for putting hope in my heart.... may your heart be filled with hope as you pursue your passions and may you know the joy of giving it away... Love forever, KWW

my heart is full

My heart is full. Full of God’s extravagant goodness.  Full of moments I know were brought together by the God who made the world. Friendships, new life and healing in the lives of our patients, a continually bustling ward full of hope and laughter, fan choco, long swims at Ghis Palace… the excitement ahead for the sail to Tenerife for the ship to get some much needed attention... and meanwhile sneak off for a month myself for some much needed attention too… for the sail back in August to begin 10 months in Guinea  – we haven’t been there in 12 years and it’s likely the need for the kinds of surgery we can provide will far outweigh the opportunities we can bring… but hope none the less… I can’t get tired of this adventure. My spirit feels too alive…. and I thank God for every single moment that He’s allowed me to be part of so far.

We’ve spent the last 5 months in Togo doing the usual array of surgeries. I won’t go into them this time but I will tell you that I am SO thankful for such an amazing team – check out this little video of our nurses made for International Nurse’s Day.  http://youtu.be/Vv4QkqCxS8Q

But aside from the usual, were some unexpected adventures. The highlight of which was a trip to Nigeria a few weeks ago to retrace the steps of where my mum and dad and brother Phil, lived 43 years ago. It started as an inkling of an idea – one I’ve pushed away many times because it seemed too tough to pursue – perhaps just not the right timing – perhaps there were things God had to prepare on the way first… but a few weeks ago, the time came. It seemed so impossible from the reaction of others, just getting a Visa sounded like it might never happen, let alone getting out of Lagos Bus Station alive! But the doors flew open wide and a friend and I got the Visas… the bus tickets… and the time off work… and off we went.

We were met by Ben at the ABC bus station in Nigeria’s capital, Lagos, after an 11 hour bus ride from Lome (Togo) and a memorable nights ‘sleep’ in the ‘VIP’ lounge which consisted of 4 sofas – shared with 6 or so others who provided a symphony of snoring to add to the beeping horns and background of loud trashy music. Miraculously, I think I slept – for a few hours at least. We set off at 0630 with Ben – a contact of an ex-Mercy Shipper who would be our driver for the next few days. We’d been told Lagos was not a safe place and it definitely had that feel to it. So off we were, on our way to Ibadan – then on to Illesha in search of the Hospital where Phil was born. A few hours later, we arrived at Wesley Guild Hospital – most of me in disbelief – the rest just in awe. We were shown around the hospital, saw the maternity ward, met some midwives and took some photos to try and match the ones mum had given me from all those years ago. It was a moving time, to say the least. We left Ilesha and went on to Ikole-Ekiti – the town where they had lived and another 80-90 miles on. The journey seemed to go on forever and we went through a million different towns called something-Ekiti and to be honest, I wondered a few times if we’d lost our way. But I needn’t have doubted… we arrived. A much smaller town than Ilesha – who knows how big – lots of shacks – market stalls – goats running across the road. African life right there, more rural and surrounded by lush lush greenery and palm trees galore. It was nearing dusk, so our plans were to find somewhere to sleep and do the exploring in the morning. Ben asked where the school was where Dad had taught and where they all lived, so we would know where to head to the next day… but it just so happened to be around the corner, so we stopped on by. As was with the midwives and hospital staff, the security guy at the gate listened to the story of the white girl coming to find her parents home from 43 years ago with loud African, ‘ey????!!!!’s’ and laughter. I think they thought it was pretty cool

We walked around the school grounds and then got permission to go up to the house. I honestly couldn’t believe it as I climbed the little hill I had heard Mum and Dad talk about many times. As I sat on the verandah, my mind was full of what thoughts - how it looked like then, how it was for them and realizing that, I guess, may be Phil made some of his first steps right there. Weird. Awesome. Moving. Very, very moving. I love that Phil got to spend his first 2 years there. Around the back of the house were the now occupants – cooking over the fire, right by the water tank and the banana trees Mum had spoken of. I was really there!!!!! More ‘eh???!!!!’s’ and even louder laughter and exclamations. I wonder what they were thinking – crazy white girl? Or… wow… precious moments. I think it was the latter from the look in their eyes. I called Mum and Dad as I stood by the fire and cooking pots. That was special too. Almost unbelievable. In fact it was. Unbelievable. A moment only attributable to a loving God. How else did it happen? How else did these beautiful moments coincide? Dusk was falling rapidly and we made our way down the hill. 

We kipped down in a guest house, just a few minutes down the road. Simple, no flash, no glitz – a bed, a bucket of water and some broken crackers and a few handfuls of dried fruit to form our evening meal. I love that. I loved the simplicity of that – so refreshing and freeing.  No traps, no pretence, just life. And perhaps that is why I love Africa so much. Perhaps some seeds were sewn into me back in those days. Who knows. But I love the fruit simplicity brings.

We popped back to the school for a daylight photo – the day much cooler than the ones before. Cloudy skies and an almost chilly breeze met us as we chatted to the security guard there. ‘He was my teacher – John Randall’, he said, as we told the story again. Too hard to believe? It is kind of, but he seemed pretty sure! We were led to a group of teachers being addressed by the Headmaster. They were seated on plastic chairs in a group out on the football field! Most of the kids were parading in long lines to their classrooms, except a few – 8 or so – all standing on one leg! I wondered what they were being punished for. Bless them. We waited in the sidelines until the Headmaster beckoned us to join the group. He thanked me for the seeds my parents had sewn and said that the school was growing and doing well. I brought greetings from Mum and Dad and Phil to the group and asked God to bless them for the work they do. More ‘eh!!!!’s’ and laughter and nods of respect as they heard the story.

I breathed it in, I took in the sights, I thanked God for these very precious moments… and we drove away…. Through the lush green bush, going at speeds I’d really rather not repeat, weaving precariously along winding roads and avoiding other cars and trucks that got far too close. We made it! God made it! He kept us safe – we survived… but we did so much more than that. We saw people doing that - surviving – just selling enough produce to survive another day – these beautiful people work so hard to survive each day. But we got to do so much more than that. The privileged, the ones who get to choose, who get to do more than just survive. I’m so thankful for my life that is so flipping rich… 

So what now? What just happened? – on that trip and these last 5 months? More displays of God’s extravagant goodness, that’s what. I could tell you story after story of what God has done in the lives of patients on board. As we pull away from the port later this week, I think there may be a few tears in my eyes, reflecting on the goodness and holding those who still have wounds that need to heal, up to a God who loves them and will not leave them… yep, there’ll be a tear or 2 for sure… but you know what? There’s plenty more goodness where that came from… and I look forward to more adventures with renewed passion for a God who loves us, who pours out so generously and has a life full of adventure and life and love for each of us… let’s embrace it…

Love you all so much! kww

love has a face

We’ve been in Togo for just over a month now and the hospital is in full swing. It’s soooo good to see the collection of hope filled faces on our wards. I always wonder what on earth is going through the minds of people who didn’t even know they would have surgery 2 weeks ago and now find themselves on a floating Hospital with air conditioning that can produce arctic conditions. About ¾ of our Hospital Team is brand new and this remains the biggest challenge to the work we do in my eyes… yet each year more amazing people leave the comforts of their homes and dare to set foot on our Hospital Ship and once again I am in awe of the beautiful hearts I get to share my life with. I love the new life they bring and the new eyes that give fresh sight to the daily miracles that I realise I have come to find so normal.

We’ve had busy weeks orientating new staff, refining our policies and procedures and holding our big Screening day where an estimated 3500 people came for our team to assess whether we could help. We were selecting people to be scheduled for our usual array of Plastics, Maxilla Facial, General and VVF surgeries over the next few months. It was a challenging day but full of richness in the form of great team work and opportunities to meet the humble faces of those who have waited years for a glimpse of hope. Whether our answer was a yes or a no, I pray each one left having experienced a love they may never have experienced before and with a life changed in ways we may never see.

For me it has been a few weeks of feeling slightly overwhelmed at times and I have loved reading ‘Love has a Face’ by Michelle Perry which has drawn me out of myself and reminded me what it’s all about. I could pretty much type out the whole thing and quote it to you because it speaks to me so much. This lady is full of compassion and is about as selfless as you can get. She works in Sudan and sees God do amazing things every day. She believes God is who He says He is – she hasn’t settled for half truths and compromises of who God is based on fear, disappointment or human limitations. She has inspired me. Here’s an excerpt for you:

‘It was the first time I had slowed down long enough to realise that Jesus was watching my busy pace, my overflowing days and my crowded life. He was just watching me and waiting for me to notice that He was not as intent on my schedule as I was. I looked into His eyes and realised that I was getting the loving others part right. I was seeing and stopping for the one in front of me. But I had forgotten that He was the most important one I could ever stop for. His gaze held no condemnation. It held only invitation.

Suddenly I was taken into a vision where I was standing in a vast harvest field. It expanded as far as my eyes could see in every direction. It was lit with faint pre-dawn light. The sun was just beginning to touch the distant horizon.

The picture was so immense that I was overwhelmed. Where would I even begin to harvest that field? How would I start? I looked around me. I saw no tools, no bag, nothing at all to begin gathering this huge harvest.

In this vision Jesus walked up to me in the middle of that field. His face was shining. His eyes were smiling. He came so close to me that all I could see were His beautiful eyes. I could not look away, not even to see the harvest. He took me by the hand, and we began to dance. The field twirled by out of the corner of my eyes, but my gaze was locked with His and He alone was my focus.

‘This is what I want,’ He said. ‘This is what I want. I want you to live a life with your eyes fixed on Me. As we dance together the harvest will come in. It is not about a plan, it is about a dance.’

Was I planning great exploits for Jesus? Or was I dancing with Him, letting Him fill all my vision and become my Everything?

I realised I had been lamenting my lack of resources and the huge task ahead of me. I was fixated on the field when Jesus wanted me to be focused on His face. He did not want me to settle and get by with romantic notions about Him. He wanted my heart, the core of who I am, to surrender being romanced by Him, to be overtaken by his love. He wanted me to be so captivated by His gaze that He would become all I see… all I have to do is find who I am in Love’s eyes. All I have to do is be a little girl in the arms of her Papa, knowing she is loved not for anything she has done or achieved but simply because He has loved her. I can stand on His feet and let Him lead, knowing that as we dance together, the harvest will come in.’

I want to be that little girl standing on her Papa’s feet. I’m not OK with letting God be as small as I have made Him. I’m so tired of that. I’m so hungry to see God be all He says He is, to break into people’s lives – for people to get angry at the brokenness and suffering and disease we see. Is this Heaven on Earth? No? Well that’s how He taught us to pray and I am not settling for anything less. May Heaven come to Earth in my life – in your life and in the lives of every beautiful person we get to meet during these next four months in Togo. I look forward to testimonies of people being free to be all they were created to be with nothing holding them back. Bring it on!

Love you all so much, KWW xx

desire

Jeepers creepers! It’s almost time to come home! I can’t quite capture my thoughts right now – something that  covers the incredible goodness of God that leaves me in awe – and the pain my heart feels as I reflect on the brokenness of this nation. Whilst we’ve done a bit to spread some love and transform some lives, it’s a drop in the ocean compared to the need. I am reminded once again that poverty comes in many forms… and I’m not even so sure if this nation is so badly off. Of course there’s a MASSIVE injustice when it comes to material stuff and you only have to step foot on the streets of Freetown to be aware of that but in amongst it all, there are people who know each other – I mean, really know each other. There’s people who lay their lives down for each other, who share what little they have with each other. There’s community, there’s time and space to just be. There’s a whirl that doesn’t include ridiculous Christmas consumerism and there’s a beauty – a very pure beauty in living for each day. As I reflect on the whopping 1242 eye surgeries, 516 max- facial surgeries, 159 Plastic surgeries, 728 General surgeries, not to mention the 34,251 Dental procedures all done through Mercy Ships whilst in Sierra Leone this year, I am in awe of a God who pours out His love so generously and am so thankful to have been part of it.

One of the things that frustrates me about my job is that it involves far too much staring at a computer and not enough getting to know the nurses and the patients. That’s ok… but just as I was pondering on that the last couple of weeks, in a way that only God can do – He whispered some love into my heart. Last week I came across news of a patient who I had cared for on the ship in 2004. She had come to us for skin grafting because her legs and buttocks had been cut off during the war. I can remember her so well – the story wasn’t one to forget – but I remember too her very precious baby who she still somehow managed to strap to her back African style even whilst balancing on her crutches. This little cutie is 8 years old now! I would love to have somehow crossed paths with her face to face but just hearing that she had been back to the ship for further surgery a few months ago and was doing well made me smile. It’s things like this that go pull pull in my heart (I love how the Krio language somehow puts it so much better than English. In fact there are many words that make me smile intermingled within the majority of conversations I don’t understand like, ‘fine fine cap’ (crown) and ‘glady glady’ (happy). Many of our patients tell us they are glady glady!

I also stumbled across a lady the other day who had surgery on the ship in 2001 to repair a fistula that had formed during prolonged labour. This happens far more often than you want to know in places where health care isn’t quickly available. For some poor mums who are having problems during delivery and need a c-section which simply isn’t available, the baby sits in the birth canal and usually dies after a few days – meanwhile the pressure inside breaks down the tissues around the bladder and allows urine to leak freely. These ladies have no choice but to carry around the stench of urine and are often rejected by their husbands and families and have to face the loss of their child and dignity alone. Her surgery was successful and she had fought her way back from rejection to the point of delivering her first live child since her surgery! She was in a local hospital I was visiting last week which was set up by Mercy Ships a few years ago to provide free maternity care. Goes pull pull on your heart, huh?

So it’s goodbye to Sierra Leone for now. We finished our last surgery on November 17^th and since then we have been busy discharging our patients home and scrubbing the decks and tying everything down ready for the ship to sail to Ghana. I’ll be home from December 9^th for 3 weeks and then join the ship in Ghana on January 2nd before sailing to Togo where we’ll be setting up our floating Hospital once again for the next 6 months. Looking forward to coming home… and hope to see many of you there. OK, a de go naw  (I’m going now!), KWW

Busy surviving

More than surviving

So much beauty, that I don’t even see. So much of God’s incredible generosity, that I totally miss. Sometimes I feel like I allow my self be too busy to see the good stuff. Too busy worrying about tomorrow to see what God has put on my plate today – and it bugs me. Meanwhile the majority of the 5.74 million inhabitants of Sierra Leone are busy surviving. Every time I go out on the streets of Freetown, I am left utterly convinced that these people never sleep! They’re too busy surviving. Even at 10pm, the streets are full of hustle and bustle and kerosene lamps flickering by stalls selling just about any random item you can think of. It’s like the worlds biggest street jumble sale 24 hours a day. Africa always speaks so deeply to me and I am caught in this same mind battle every time my feet leave this crazy ship. In amongst this nation busy trying to survive: how dare I, how dare I… spend a day going to the beach? I want to, because I know it fills me up and gives me the fuel I need to pour out and I enjoy marvelling at the beauty of it all. That’s ok. But when did it all become about me? Flashbacks of Maslow’s hierarchy of needs are flooding back to me. May be that’s what it’s about – I guess there’s not much time for self actualisation when you’re still trying to get a cup of clean water? But how come I can skip to the top of that hierarchy with barely a worry in the world? It’s not fair and I don’t like it. Injustice makes me puke.

Sierra Leone is one of the world’s poorest countries, nearly 75 percent of people earn less than £1.25 a day. There are few opportunities for employment or to start a small business as economic and social systems are not well-developed. Health also is of primary concern; according to the United Nations, Sierra Leone has the world’s highest mortality rate of children under age five (290/1000). There are nearly 48,000 people living with HIV and AIDS, and 31,000 children have been orphaned by the disease. Only 57% people have access to clean water. How they came up with that statistic, I have no idea. It can only be a guess. But no clean water? Can you imagine?? Can you?? Like really? No clean water. Constant tummy bugs…. Ugh. And not to mention the 10-year civil war that claimed an estimated 50,000 lives. All this and all I can do is think about planning a day to the beach????? Who am I????? It’s ok... I’m going to go… I’ll slip into denial for a while… but really? Why this continuing massive gap between the rich and the poor. It really makes me wanna puke.

So as I make my way to one of the world’s most beautiful beaches – white sand with a back drop of rich mountainous rainforest – (it’s more than beautiful) I climb into a taxi and ask to be taken to the beach, I can almost not get my words out because I’m wondering – does the driver even know where the beach is? It’s far… and fuel costs a lot… and well, if you’re busy surviving… if you’re one of the ones without clean drinking water, why on earth would you know your way to the beach? I ask anyway and have the time of my life - suppressing the thoughts of the impact this pot hole filled journey has had on my drivers car. I wonder what he is thinking.

… I have the privilege to do more than survive and it’s time to realise that. Crazy self inflicted schedules and worrying about what’s next – I don’t want any of it. I want to embrace all the good stuff God has put on my plate. It means spending time with the patients on the ward – skipping for joy at one of the 15 or so life changing surgeries that happen every day here on board – I don’t do enough of that. It means being thankful for the multitude of people living on the ship from all around the world. It’s one of the richest places in the world for me – a concentration of people who all love doing what I love too. It means thanking God for each smile, each sound of laughter, each twinkling star in the sky, each incredible sunset, each rain drop, each opportunity my spirit gets to connect with another, each glimpse of God I see in His creation and each glimpse of His incredible love for me I see in the way He provides and shows His love for me. I am loving the privilege of being here.

Prayers for the rest of our time here in Sierra Leone would be appreciated – we finish here early in December and I think we’re all too aware that we can’t do it on our own. We’re tired and we need some of the supernatural grace and love of God to keep us going. If there’s one thing to pray for, pray that the patients we get to meet come to know how much God loves them through it all. God works everything together for His good – and I was thinking this week of some of the patients who have had plastic surgery who have wounds that are taking a long time to heal, how God can even use that, and I really pray the time will be used so these people leave here knowing, without a doubt, that there’s a God who created them that has a love so deep for them, that their lives will never be the same.

And there’s a God out there who loves you too… praying you know it. Love and miss you SO much, look forward to hearing from you, KWW

LOVE it!

LOVE IT. Whatever it was they used to inject me with on the plane or sneak in my luke warm plastic airline meal  - it’s the same stuff they used before – suddenly my heart came alive and I feel like it’s dancing! May be it’s something to do with working in such an incredible place where we get to pour out God’s love on a nation that has so little or may be it’s the incredible people I work with from all around the world with one unified passion or it could be the humongously juicy mangoes or then again may be it’s just the sight of hope in the eyes of the patients – many of whom have been waiting for surgery for YEARS and years and years….

I’ve only been back a couple of weeks but my initial impressions are of such beauty and of a ministry that has grown and has God right at the centre – it fills me with smiles because when I left back in 2009 I was tired and full of questions about where Mercy Ships was heading. I’ve just got back from a walk out to a café. It’s always good to get off the ship – the crazy in between world that stands next to the sights and sounds of such poverty. Our walk took us through the busiest streets I have ever seen – crowded with market sellers all calling for you to make your purchases from them. It’s almost an impossible task to keep walking, dodging the wheel barrows acting as mobile shops and sacks full of peppers balanced on people’s heads, people sleeping in doorways and the shabby old buses trying to pass each other on roads that were once meant for passing but now so full of people they cause the traffic to snarl up every few seconds – no one gets anywhere fast here. Not to mention the open sewers either side of the road that you run the risk of stepping into as you dodge a big truck pumping out its clouds of black exhaust. Nice. But somehow I love it. Somehow I love the life and vibrancy it brings. Somehow I actually really like that life is not all tidy and structured and sensible. It brings a funny kind of freedom I don’t find at home or on the London tubes where stress rises if you miss one and have to wait a WHOLE 3 minutes before the next one comes. Yeah, I like it here.

One of the treasures this week was reconnecting with a lady called Chris. I first met her in Ghana in 2006 and she had surgery on board the Anastasis. She was living in Ghana since fleeing the war in Liberia. She’s been on a rocky road and needed repeated surgery but now is doing so well and has switched roles over the years from patient to day volunteer (loads of local people work with us to help with jobs and translating etc in each country we go to) and now she is a full on crew member! She was telling me the joys of returning to Liberia and how she found her brothers – she had lost touch with them during the war and didn’t even know if they were alive. As I talked with her I was reminded again how much I take for granted – I’m embarrassed to admit to her face that I have a loving family and beautiful friends and places I like to go to and indulge my selfish face in. Life is so much more about surviving here in West Africa and we don’t know the half of it. She also reminded me that there’s a God out there who makes all things new. He did it for her, He’s done it for me and I’m looking forward to seeing Him do it again and again and again in the lives of the patients we get to meet. We’re doing the usual Facial surgery (cleft lips and palates, tumours etc) together with General surgery (hernias etc), Eye surgery and soon to start Plastic surgery (often releasing contractures formed from untreated burn injuries and such). I love it.

I’m missing family, friends, fresh breezes, summer fruit, Cornish beaches and the wiff of sweet peas but love it here and look forward to seeing God do more than I can ask or imagine. Can’t wait to hear from you… very much love always and forever, KWW (for new followers, that’ll be Kirstie Wirstie Woo) xxxx