quiet whispers: part four

Part 1 – Part 2 – Part 3 

Those months of fellowship were incredibly painful, soul-sapping, paralyzing. I learned ridiculous amounts in the midst of them about medicine, about what I do well and not so well, about my limits, and about the lengths to which God will go to pursue me. I had wise people walking with me, but I could see in their eyes that they knew this was not a burden they could carry for me.

It was my Jonah moment – my long, long days in the belly of a suffocating fish. As we wound the years from medical school to residency to fellowship, I lost sight of why I had started the journey in the first place. I would talk of it, but in my mind and heart I was settling into our life in Birmingham – with our friends, our 100 year old house and all its quirks, our church, my potential ER doctor salary, and David’s career as a wedding photographer that I loved sharing.

We started to talk of an alternate plan – 6 months in the States, 6 months overseas, no support raising, international medicine research with some facetime, places to invest and set up. In short, I wanted everything I had imagined without giving up anything. Nothing was inherently wrong with that plan. Nothing at all. It made a lot of sense in our heads. But I am certain that God knew that was not what was best for David or for me. That was not what He had prepared for us.

When Annabelle is convinced that staying up every night until 11 is best for her, I cannot force her to sleep – but I can firmly, strongly set up circumstances that point her towards it. I can take away her Kindle and her light – things that make her happy. Often, I must take away the certainty of my presence, allowing her to cry in her bed, to convince her what is best. I hate that she is upset, but do it because I love her and know the disasters that will follow if she does not rest.

I think God does the same for us. Sometimes darkness and a loss of joy are powerful rerouters.

When we started looking towards Africa, Erik returned my email and said they needed help in July, so we started to plan for our trip. Every step toward Kenya, my joy and confidence returned a bit more – but it was deeper this time, more steady, more trusting.

We arrived in Kenya on the 14th of July, 2013.  I walked the girls to the house we would stay in, and then walked into the hospital to find Jennifer. She introduced me to my residents, gave me a brief overview of my 28 patients, and left me to figure them out. When you are in a whole new world, sometimes it is better to just jump in the deep end.  I knew I would be the only pediatrician in the hospital 4 days later, so I wanted to learn as much as I could.  That Friday, Ima and Sarah left for a retreat. Jennifer left to camp with her family, and Mardi was on her way back to Kijabe but had not arrived yet. I had 54 patients under my care, and I wondered what the weekend would hold.

Little did I know, that was the weekend I would deliver conjoined twins. . .and God would once again say – You are not in control, I am. And that is a good thing.

Part 5