premature baby at CURE Uganda

It had been one of those days. Derek and I were walking down to lunch, saw that posho and beans were being served, and high-tailed it to a local coffee shop for a milkshake and french fries. As we sat eating our shakes and fries, we began talking about the day, which had led us to plunge into emotional eating… it really wasn’t a day much different than any other… the power had been going in and out, causing the CT scan to be down and the generator to be on, construction was on a slow down because there were no workers on site, I was struggling with a patient I had, there were no orthopedic surgeon was in town, the closest MRI is four hours away, my PT supplies are four months from reaching Uganda… and guess what, there was nothing we could do about it. Derek and I reflected on the fact that in the States we are rarely greeted by the conclusion that it just won’t work. We pride ourselves on problem solving, being resourceful and contingency planning. We have back up plans that work… most of the time; however, in Uganda that is not always the case. If power goes out, we cant run our CT scan we have to run our generator using gas for 10 dollars a gallon, if the gas runs out the generator shuts down and the hospital shuts down completely. If a drug we need for surgery is no longer available in Uganda, we can’t do surgery. If gas is out at the gas station, it is out. When internet and phone services go down, they are down. If your food arrives two hours after you order it, you don’t get your meal comped. But, like we are reminded daily, this is Africa… this is the country we are blessed to be living in, the people we are honored to work with.

I sat at that restaurant with tears in my eyes wanting my own way. I wanted conveniences, I wanted to be able to order something and have it arrive in two days, I wanted to be able to be able to drive and not fear hitting a goat/cow/child/biker… I have probably never had more respect for my husband as I struggled with ideas for PT with limited resources and here he was directing a hospital for kids with neurological disabilities in a resource constraint, unstable and unpredictable country. We laid out our options; we could go home or we could do our best to give these kids a chance.

We drove back to the hospital in a somber mood. However, when I was greeted by our six little overcomers, that mood shifted. They desperately wanted to show Auntie and Uncle Julie (that’s right, Uncle Julie) their latest achievements, including standing for six seconds without crutches, jumping up and down without losing balance, and little Enoch was showing off his newly acquired English lessons. As they did their exercises they sang us a song:

My God is able, More than able, I know my God is able, I know my God is able to carry me through. For He has healed the broken-hearted, He has set the captive free, My God He healed the sick, raised the dead and walked upon the sea.

As they sang, we were humbled, beyond humbled. Yes, the frustrations are still here and they will continue to be. We will continue to live month to month, we will continue to search for certain drugs and medical equipment; however, Our God is able. We realized that we have no idea what life here is like. Our frustrations are small in comparison to those we serve with. We have no idea what it is to be raised in a village, to share a one-bedroom house with your entire family, to be hassled at every junction in your day, to struggle for money to pay for school or screens on our windows. After a very short time here, Derek and I realize we are far from understanding life here. But in the midst of those emotions, we are blessed to be here. We pray that when people step into the compound at CURE Hospital, they know they will be accepted, loved, treated with dignity and respect, treated fairly, and that they will know there are 92 staff members who are fighting for them and their child’s life. We know the problems are global, we know we can’t change a country, but we KNOW God can work through us to change the life of one child, one mama, one staff member, one visitor at a time. And for those days where the needs seem endless… a good milkshake and fries can go a long way.

Originally posted at: http://johnsontwo.blogspot.com/2012/11/milk-shake-and-fries.html.