Today I Changed the World.

The office was totally abuzz today. There were at least six different events happening, requiring everyone to be dressed to the tee and doing lots of different jobs.

I love that kind of a buzz. I love the adrenaline rush of remembering millions of details and trouble-shooting last minute anomalies. I love the feeling of being so exhausted you start to lose your voice, but knowing that it really is okay because in a few days you’ll get that sleep-in and in the mean time, there’s some world changing to be doing and when you hear about the results, it. feels. awesome.

I felt the buzz today, but I felt it around me instead of in me. And I loved it and it was contagious and it inspired me to a place of hope and rallying, but at the same time I knew I couldn’t take it all on. It wasn’t my turn.

My two babies don’t know what its like to run a major event. They just know what its like to build towers and drink milk and giggle.

I’ve found motherhood to be an ongoing transition. I’m guessing it will never ever stop being that. I’ve been told this is true.

Today was another transition.

Oh sure, I double-checked run sheets, and edited thank you notes, and trouble-shot printer troubles, but I did it with a baby on my chest, sitting on the ground, putting together a wooden train track.

I battled in my mind as I watched friends and coworkers I loved and admired doing a great job, but really feeling the load. Was I doing enough? Surely, surely I could take it on for them… help a little bit more.  But it wasn’t my day to carry that load.

So instead, today, I told a little boy that he was fun. Not because he needs to be affirmed but because in the bottom of my heart I think he is the most fun kid I’ve every been around and I love that he makes me laugh and I feel so special when I hear glorious giggles erupting from the bottom of his belly.

And I told him he was smart because seriously, the things he says these days absolutely blow me away and he does it with this cheeky grin because he knows he’s never said that word or sentence or even concept before and that I’m going to think he’s the bees knees when I hear it (and I do.)

And I told a little girl she was sweet because the girl will stare and stare and stare at you from across the room until you notice her and look at her and its like she was just waiting to melt you with this smile that is so deep and incredible that you think she must be more wise than any 9 week old that ever lived or maybe she just still remembers what it was like being knit together by the hands of God Himself because it feels like He’s just smiling right through her to the deep places in your soul.

And as I talked of funness and smartness and sweetness, I realised, I’m changing the world too. These little people… this is the foundation for them to become the world changers they are destined to be.

And I smiled. Because even though I adore the buzz, playing with trains and blocks is a pretty cool job to have too.

Some Are Better Than None

I hate this picture.

I hate it because do you see this boil on this little girls leg? It looks like a teenager’s first pimple compared to how it looked in real life.

I hate it because of the memories that come flooding back when I look at it.

I hate it because of the way my eyes sting with hot tears just like they did the night I met this little girl.

I was just getting out of the shower when I heard a heap of commotion. Would Dr Cassie please come up to the clinic? A man was bringing his granddaughter. They had been in their dingy for a few hours making their way here. It was dark. Was there anyway we could see her?

I followed Cassie into the clinic and my heart broke. The little girl was in her daddy’s arms, with her grandfather beside them. They were keen for me to watch, to hear her story, to tell it to others… because maybe others would be stirred to help.

“She’s three years old,” Cassie told me as she handed me her registration form. My eyes widened as I saw that she was also 10 kilos.

She was three years old and weighed less than my one year old who was contentedly sleeping in his air conditioned cabin two decks below us. 

She was also in pain. I could see it in her eyes, even beyond the fat crocodile eyes that sat on the edge of her lids.

I listened as Cassie explained in pidgin, “The sore is too big for any anesthetic. This will be “bikpela pain”, but we need to get it clean.”

She then said to me in English, “In Port Moresby, we would put this little girl under. This is going to be very painful, but its the only option.

And so as Cassie began to prepare the wound, the hot tears in my eyes matched my little sweethearts. I was barely containing my emotions – half way telling myself to toughen up and half way knowing that sometimes we need to allow ourselves to feel the emotion so that we remember the importance.

And then she looked at me.

She looked at me with those big eyes as if to say, “How could you let this happen to me!?”

And that’s when I knew that even though I needed to feel the emotion, I also needed to be her courage. I swallowed my tears and the lump in my throat and smiled at her the biggest smile I could. “You’re very brave,” I told her. “This hurts so much, but its helping you to be healthy.” “I’m so sorry that you’re sick. I know its not fair. But you’re going to be better.”

And I held her eyes as she screamed in absolute pain.

When it was over, I looked at her laying there. Her tiny shorts were covered in blood. And yet I knew that there was no clean set of clothes waiting for this little girl. What she was in was all she had.

Except for the suitcase full of kids clothes that was sneaked onto the ship, despite the fact that we don’t have cargo space for it. And in that little suitcase we found the perfect princess nightgown for a ride home on the dingy in daddy’s arms.

They left with antibiotics, wound care tools, instructions to care for the infection, and where we’d be anchored if it got worse.

Later that night, in the quiet of the cabin, I asked Cassie, “What would’ve happened if we weren’t here?”

“I don’t know for sure,” she said, “It may have popped and healed on its own. But with an infection that big, positioned in a high bacteria area on the body as it was, and as undernourished as she is, it is very likely she would not have survived.”

So I guess in some ways I love this photo.

I love it because of the hope that it represents.

I love it because it reminds me of a precious life that was saved.

I love it because even though not every problem in the world finds solution, some do.

And some are better than none.

Dr Cassie and the little princess

Having a Ball

We did indeed have a ball in PNG… And so did many of our new friends.

As suspected, the balls were a BIG hit. And while it was a delight to see so many precious faces light up with big white smiles and sparkling eyes, there were a few stories that just felt… Like destiny.

Like Mida… We were chatting on board the ship as she waited for her turn in the dental clinic. Max played at our feet as we chatted about her two children in the village and how she was the eldest in her family and the only one to go to school, hence her good English.

And as the conversation turned, she shyly asked me whether I had a netball. I kicked myself because I was so close to getting a netball and then asked her if a soccer ball would do. She was thrilled and I went to my cabin to pick it up.

Days later I learned that this village saved for months to buy the men a rugby ball in Port Moresby. Now the women, with no way to make an income, were saving for a ball for themselves.

What started as a fun idea actually turned out to be an answer to prayer for around 50 women.

And then there was Joyce.

Isn’t she beautiful?

Her eyes are absolutely radiant. Like, can’t-help-but-smile-because-they-sparkle-so-bright sort of radiant. She’s smart and quick and witty and kind.

She is also mute.

She’s never said a word in her life. No one knows why. And the bright intelligence that embodies this little girl is absolutely astounding in a place where the fit are the ones who survive and thrive.

She is strong, lovely and tenacious and I’ve fallen in love with her.

There was also Jeffrey. His oldest son was given to him when he was a single man by his sister. Its the thing to do here. If family doesn’t have a baby, you give them one. Now he’s married with another little girl. He’s been in this village as a school teacher for 10 years.

10 years in a place where they are only just now getting a clean source of water. 10 years in a place where he couldn’t even access his pay check unless he took a $300 trip to the city… via dingy… on the water for two days… if the weather permits.

The man is so committed. We gave him balls with globes on them for the kids in the classroom. He was SO excited.

Those are only a few of our friends, only a few who adored those balls, each for different reasons. There are many more shining faces and bouncing balls round these villages.

Thanks for helping us make their faces light up and giving us another reason to connect!!