evermore.

"Evermore" by Phil Wickham

One of the songs I have been listening to a lot this Christmas season, and the pictures below are of decorations here on ship. I put a YouTube link at the bottom of the post.

The lyrics of this song remind me of the big picture of the purpose of Christ's birth, it is the gospel summarized in a few lines.

Be blessed in these days leading up to Christmas, and remember Who we are celebrating.

 

 

 

 

Memouna's Laugh: patient story

Catherine, a friend and one of the Mercy Ships crew writers, wrote this article about one of our recent patients. It blessed me to read it and I wanted to share it here as well:




Go down two flights of stairs on the Africa Mercy, and you’ll find you’ve stepped out of a ship and into a busy buzzing hospital. On the wards you’ll find kids playing, doctors praying, patients visiting, and plenty of African music. Listen . . . you’ll hear conversations in English echoed by translators in French or one of Guinea’s three local languages – the chatter forms a background like white noise.

One would expect that a 13-year-old girl would be among the chattiest – but not Memouna.

Memouna’s pronounced facial tumor began above her left eyebrow, spilling down her face to the corner of her mouth and displacing her left eye. This tumor, a neurofibroma she has had since birth, left her looking like one side of her face was sliding off – like Dali’s famous melting clock in a desert. From behind the curtain of her deformity, Memouna saw the world with her good right eye. And . . . to her despair . . . the world saw Memouna.

For 13 years she was taunted for her appearance. Moreover, superstitions run deep in West African culture, and physical deformities are believed to be the sinister mark of someone cursed. Memouna was not only teased by peers – she was completely dismissed. The drooping facial tumor became the source of a broken spirit.


“She was not happy because in Africa people stay away from her. She would cry because she did not understand why no one liked her,” said Memouna’s 17-year-old sister, Aminata, the oldest of her nine siblings.

“I had so many sleepless nights worrying how to help my child,” said Memouna’s father, who was trying to sell his car to afford her surgery when he learned the Africa Mercy was coming to Conakry. “I was told that no one would be able to do the surgery except Mercy Ships. I had no money to pay with . . . and then God paid!”

On Wednesday, 26 September 2012, Mercy Ships surgeons removed Memouna’s tumor. After her operation, even under layers of bandages, the transformation was profound. Memouna’s profile no longer appeared rough and misshapen. Her face had been physically lifted from the weight of the tumor. Nurses hoped her spirits would follow, but removing years of social isolation is a much more complicated procedure.

In the days after her operation, quiet Memouna said nothing, while her father and sister took turns staying at the hospital and speaking on her behalf. “I’m sorry, maybe she will talk more another day,” her sister would say to visitors.

Mercy Ships ward nurse Lynne White said, “It was a long time before I realized she spoke. She was so silent that I didn’t think she could. But I can understand it. She went from spending her life keeping to herself with no friends, and then she came here and was overwhelmed by the attention.”

One night a week after the surgery, Lynne came into the ward to find Memouna listening to headphones, nodding her head to music and mouthing the words. “I couldn’t believe it, so I did whatever I could to try to get a laugh out of her – I started dancing!” Lynne said. “Memouna just laughed and laughed. It was wonderful!”

Two weeks later Memouna arrived on the dock with her father for a check-up. She kept to herself, waiting on the benches. “Is that my Memouna?” Lynne exclaimed. Hearing her name, Memouna glanced around to find Lynne, not walking, but dancing over to her. “It’s you, you’re here!” Lynne cheered, waving her arms in the air.

Memouna clapped her hands and covered her mouth, trying and failing to hold back her giggles.

Even though Memouna does not give up her laughter easily, she lets those who show her love see the real Memouna. In those moments, there is a cute teenager in a pink sweatshirt and orange nail polish . . . where a timid, downcast child used to be.

The removal of Memouna’s tumor marks the beginning of physical . . . and spiritual . . . healing.

Thirteen-year-old Memouna is seen by Mercy Ships doctors on Screening Day on 3 September 2012.

Memouna’s tumor, a neurofibroma, covered the left side of her face. For years she was teased by her peers because of her appearance.

After her surgery, Memouna remained quiet, letting her sister and father do the talking for her.

Lynne (a Mercy Ships nurse) and Memouna dance on the docks.

Where there once was a quiet and shy little girl, there is now a smiling, dance-loving, thirteen-year-old with orange painted nails. Here, Memouna is all giggles with Africa Mercy Writer, Catherine Murphy.



Written by Catherine Murphy

Edited by Nancy Predaina

Photos by Debra Bell







 

new website

Mercyships.org has been redesigned- the new website is beautiful! Here are a few screen shots:

 

Go check it out for yourself!

 

www.mercyships.org

 

 

evening on deck 7 in photos

Sunset happens quickly between about 6:30 and 7:00, I headed up to deck 7 to enjoy it today and took some photos.

 

 

Christmas decorating!

Today I helped bring out the Christmas decorations from storage and set them up around the ship. It was announced at Monday morning meeting that decorating would happen Saturday afternoon, and they said we put up lots. They weren't kidding! There are wonderful Christmas decorations for every public area on the ship.

I put up lots of the Christmas decorations at home every year. I always look forward to decorating. Really, I look forward more to sitting in the living room with a cup of hot chocolate enjoying the Christmas tree and a quiet fire. But to get to that point all the decorations have to be dragged out of storage and the tree needs to be straightened and all the little bits of green need to be vacuumed off the floor when it's done. And once all the empty boxes are back in their places and it is dark outside, I can just sit and look at the tree glowing.

So, it seemed only right that I should participate in the decorating of the ship. I have been forgetting that December 25th is quickly approaching. But after assembling several small trees, untangling some lights and listening to one of the academy students practicing "Joy to the World" this afternoon, I am reminded that Christmas comes in Africa too. It's just sunnier.

Romina and I worked on the trees on top of the Cafe.

The finished work later this evening:

Even the gangway got some lights!

 

 

I am here

Hi everyone-

 

I am here on the ship!

 

So sorry for the long absence from my blog- the last weeks have flown by and now I realize I did not post anything for the whole month of November. According to my blog I have been in Brussels for a long time. Really- we did go to Guinea and do field service, there was only one day of waffle eating in Brussels.

After Brussels my team had our two and a half weeks of field service in Conakry. I will post more pictures later- we worked on a playground at one of the local hospitals (Jean Paul II) that Mercy Ships has teamed up with. It was some long, hot work days, but so rewarding to see the playground taking shape and at the same time make many friends in the community. I will be able to keep visiting there with some of the off ship ministry teams. This was a precious time- we put so many aspects of our training sessions at the IOC into practice.

I am so thankful for the carefully planned preparation that Mercy Ships gave me in Gateway. We finished the playground on November 6th, and on the 7th we had a ribbon cutting ceremony. It just so happened that on the 7th the Minister of Social Affairs was paying a visit to Jean Paul II Hospital. There was a special reception for her that we were invited to, and afterwards she came down to cut the ribbon. She even wore a yellow hardhat on top of her fancy African head wrap! There was a television crew to get footage for a national news broadcast of her visit.

November 9 was the big day- one that I have been imagining since the phone call back in March telling me my application was accepted. Time to go to the ship. The Africa Mercy. My new home.

We all piled one last time into the taxis- after over two weeks we became good friends with the drivers- and headed for the port. Traffic was busy and it took about an hour to get there.

In Africa you usually put at least four across the back seat of the small yellow cabs. It is a tight, warm ride but after a couple weeks we figured out how to sit pretty comfortably. The windows are always rolled down, and there is always lots to see.

Arriving on the port, rounding a corner and catching my first glimpse of the big, beautiful white ship:

We climbed up the gangway with our luggage, were welcomed in reception by members of the hospitality team and recieved a whirlwind of information in a short afternoon. We had a tour that first afternoon, but I still found myself getting a little lost on the first few days. All the hallways look very similar so it is easy to get turned around.

 

 

In my cabin:

I actually moved from this cabin to a different one a couple days ago. This one was a 6-berth, now I live in a 4 -berth with 3 other long term crew. But this was my spot for the first few weeks on board, and it was very comfortable! I sleep really well here. Actually the hardest thing is that with no window it is really easy to oversleep if I don't set an alarm. It hasn't happened on a workday. Yet. Also, I can be so quiet in the cabin when I am the only one in it. But, when it is before 6 in the morning and I am trying to get ready for work without disturbing my bunkmate I feel so clumsy and loud. Really- I think I knock something over on accident every morning. My bunkmate has assured me that I am not bothering her though.

A few views of evening from Deck 8:

A view of the port: the two tents are where the admissions and rehab team work.

To all those back home who have been praying for me and thinking of me: thank you. Moving to the ship has been a transition- a joyful one but still a change. It is constantly busy here. At all hours of the day or night there are people around in the cafe, lounge or dining room. Transitioning from living with my gateway team of 12 to a large vessel with a crew of 350+ has its challenges, and it doesn't happen without some moments of feeling a little lost. I am really loving it here though. It felt so good to put on scrubs and be a nurse again. Every surgery day I go down to the dock with a couple of the eye team day workers and carefully lead the cataracts patients up the gangway onto the ship. They are usually nervous, but still so happy to be there. I love this work. I am finding my place in this community, and I know that this is exactly what I am supposed to be doing for this season. Thank you for your support- thank you for your prayers.