Is life ever "normal"?

I could go on and on writing under the title "Is life ever 'normal'?".  Seriously.  In fact, I might when I write my second post later today.

In the meantime, I thought I would let my readers (especially those who don't live in my area) a head's up as to why I am all of a sudden writing from the states.  Yup!  I'm currently writing from the comforts of our wood stove heated basement, and I feel like a piglet under a heat lamp - it's cold outside!

The following is a letter that was sent church family (written mid-December), but since many of you were praying for me during this time, I felt it appropriate to post it here.  Sorry.  No pictures.  You'll have to wait until post number 2 of the day.

How does it so often seem that things don’t go according to plan?  At least, with these sudden changes in plan, we have opportunities to practice flexibility, graciousness, and resiliency.

As many of you may have heard, my December did not exactly go as I would have planned it.  I owe it to you, the people who have my back stateside, to give you a few more details about what landed me in the states on medical leave.

Late November, I noticed a boil on my right shoulder.  I had experienced boils before during this past rainy season, and it is not an uncommon problem (locals and my teammates alike have struggled with boils as well).  I treated it like I had any other boil, with betadine, Neosporin, Band-Aids and hot compresses.  This one, however, was not going away.  After my shoulder had swelled up to a point that I lost arm mobility and I spiked a fever, I started on antibiotics. 

The next few days were a bit of a blur and filled with unmet expectations.  My teammates had taken me to a hospital in a nearby town where my friend is a doctor.  He drained it, did some blood tests, added some meds, and sent me home to recover.  When I was not recovering, my team decided to take me across the border into a town in Senegal, where I would have better access to medical facilities.  After spending over almost 2 hours draining my abscess, the doctor there told us that the infection was beyond him and we needed to go to the capital of Senegal (Dakar).  By this time, the infection had tunneled and was suspected to be septic. 

Thinking that I just needed a little time to rest, etc., I had already refused going to Ziguinchor (the town in Senegal just across the border).  I was absolutely adamant about not flying to Dakar.  Those who know me really well, know that I can be quite thick-headed (err…  stubborn) at times, and it was only because I did not really have a choice in the matter that I landed in Dakar.  I traveled with our team nurse and a retired missionary who acted as our translator (Senegal, unlike the former Portuguese-colonized Guinea Bissau, was a French territory, and therefore we needed to rely on someone else to help us get around since neither Delores or I speak French).

The night we landed in Dakar, the doctors operated – complete with anesthesia and everything.  They made a deep incision in an effort to get all the infection out.  Within 8 hours, I was in the OR again for a second surgery.  After 5 days in the hospital, I was released.  The doctor team was not as excited as I was at the prospect of me being able to go back to Guinea Bissau.  Though they promised to re-evaluate at my follow-up, I was advised not to leave Dakar (unless I was going to America) until my wound completely healed up because of the great risk of complication and re-infection (in addition to the lack of good medical facilities) in Guinea Bissau.  That could take 4-6 WEEKS!  There was no way I wanted to spend my birthday and Christmas away from family and friends (which includes teammates who feel like my family).

Talk started flying around about the possibility of me flying back with a work team who had been working in Catel (the village where I live) during the duration of my hospital stay.  I started praying that there would not be any tickets on that flight.  You see, because I fully expected to return the same day I left Catel,  I did not get to say goodbye to any friends, wrap up any projects, or sort through my stuff to get ready for my furlough (scheduled to start January 9^th).  There was a lot that I needed to process yet.  During a phone conversation with my regional director, I was handed a note that said there was a seat on the flight and I could even go all the way to Harrisburg.  Though I had been sure that I was not going back to America, the thought had entered my mind that if there did end up being a seat on the plane, God was probably preparing a way for me to go.

Here I am.  Almost a week after being in the states.  I am healing slowly-by-slowly and regaining strength day by day.  Only after I got here did I realize how seriously sick I actually was.  Because of the swelling and spread of infection, my airway was very close to being blocked.  Since being back, I have also seen my open incision for the first time (which is nasty – I’ll spare you the details).  I am thankful to God for sparing my life and for the opportunity I have to not only be near to very good medical facilities, but to be able to spend my birthday and Christmas with my family. 

No, things did not happen as I would have preferred them to.  Goodbyes to my Guinea Bissau friends were said over Skype and static-y phone calls.  My team had to pack up my room and send me my suitcase to fly back to the states.  I wasn’t expecting to be back for another month, so gifts weren’t bought, etc.  BUT, I have much to be thankful for!

I will resume my previously scheduled furlough activities in early-mid January, and will be doing speaking engagements as well as catching up with supporters until late February.  If all goes according to plan (do things ever go according to plan?) and funds come in on time, I will be heading back to Guinea Bissau in early March for another two years. 

I pray that as we turn our focus back to work and "normal life", that we don’t lose sight of the genuine lifestyle of Christmas.  Of course I don’t mean the busyness, the decorations, the gifts or the family dinners… those are the “extras” that we’ve tacked onto Christmas.  What I mean is the daily lifestyle of celebration – we can be freed because “Though he [Jesus] was God, he did not think of equality with God as something to cling to.  Instead, he gave up his divine privileges; he took the humble position of a slave and was born as a human being.  When he appeared in human form, he humbled himself in obedience to God and died a criminal’s death on a cross.” (Philippians 2:6-8 NLT, emphasis mine)


Blessings!

A