Double Trouble

   There have been instances throughout my time in Togo where the moment suddenly becomes surreal. It's when I'm doing something that has become 'normal' to me, but then I look around and realize, "whoa. I'm driving my own motorcycle in the 100 degree heat in a tiny country in West Africa. I'm dodging turkeys and donkeys while children loudly chant their word for white person as I enter the market where I will conduct business in a different language with a foreign currency in an outdoor market to buy a limited selection of food which I will then need to bleach before consuming.  How did this become normal?"

    I had one of those moments yesterday. To understand the background, let me tell you about the twins.

    The month of March was really tough at the Hospital of Hope. There were some days where it felt like everything was on the brink of insanity. We lost a lot of kids. There were a couple of cases where things fell apart unexpectedly, and it sometimes felt like we just couldn't win. At the very end of March, premature girl twins born at around 29 weeks showed up at the hospital hours after their delivery. In general, babies that are born that prematurely don't do very well here. We simply don't have the technology to support them when they're that early.

    I remember caring for the twins in their first few weeks of life. Weighing in at around 2.4 pounds each, they kept their doctors and nurses busy and as they dealt with infections, malaria, necrotizing enterocolitis, heart defects, feeding problems, and respiratory issues. I prayed for these babies, but I had seen other babies die from each of these diseases, and at multiple occasions, I wondered if I would find them in their isolette the next day.

   By the grace of God, the incredible medical staff, and a lot of nursing care, our girls recovered from issue after issue and kept getting stronger.

 

   


















   The tradition here is that babies are named after 8 days, so as the weeks passed by, we got to know H and H as well as their mama, R (who has given permission and loves me taking photos of her babies). R has told me that I can keep the second twin since she stops crying when I hold her and will drink her whole bottle for me. We've prayed together and laughed at the girls making funny faces and cooed over them while trying to get a picture of them smiling.

Sisters

   Now at 37ish weeks and weighing in at a whopping 4.1 and 4.7 pounds, our precious twins are positively fat and doing great. They are slowly starting the process of getting ready to go home. During my shift yesterday, I woke up R and sent her to go pump milk for the next feed. When mama left, I picked up little H off the mat on the floor to put her back in her crib, and I started talking to her.

   The moment hit me. Kneeling on the floor alone with my twins, I thanked God for the miracle I held in my hands and for the happy story that I had really needed. I kissed her soft hair and told her that Jesus and I both loved her very much. It was a moment so perfect that it felt surreal. I think every nurse has a few special patients that they remember forever, and these are two of mine. I'm sharing this story as a reminder to me of God's faithfulness and goodness. Also, they're just stinkin' cute, right? 

   My time in Togo is quickly winding down. I am so grateful for the opportunities, relationships, and experiences I have had here. Living life in a completely new way has taught me so much, and I wouldn't trade it for anything. 10/10 would recommend... but only if you can bear the heat. 

Because they haven't heard,

-C-

Arbitrariness

The Storm approaches....

 Photo Credit: Dr. Ben

We sat outside as the dust storm turned the sky dark and waited for the rain. When it finally came, we danced in the first rainfall of the year. All the dirt and dust that had pelted our faces and got stuck on our sweat then turned to mud plastered everywhere. In the aftermath, the temperature cooled around 30 degrees and a rainbow appeared. The air smelled delicious and the breeze was fresh and cool.

Photo Credit: Dr. Magda

    In the month since I got back after an incredible 3 weeks home, I haven't stopped sweating. We're in the full swing of hot season when a dip in the pool feels like taking a bath, your chocolate and cheese melt within minutes, you quickly learn to avoid clothes that don't breathe, your feet swell, the fans never stop (except when the power goes out), and everything you touch gives off heat. Even though everyone moves a little slower in the heat, life has not slowed down at all. 

    An exciting story and direct answer to prayer occurred in my house shortly after I got back. My roommate Ashli wrote it far more beautifully and eloquently than I ever could, so please please please read her blog post here: https://seesomethingmore.blogspot.com/2019/03/here-have-friend-part-four.html and here:  https://seesomethingmore.blogspot.com/2019/03/living-water-part-five.html (Also, she's just an incredible writer and person, so keep reading her stuff!) 

    Though it isn't malaria season, the hospital has been incredibly busy. I have had multiple shifts where I've worked harder than I've ever worked before. For over a month, there were four little kids who were in the hospital for a long time. One little girl had burns on 40% of her body, and the other 3 had cancer and were getting multiple rounds of chemotherapy which required them to stay in the hospital. After taking care of them for multiple shifts, I got attached, so I started going back on my days off to visit them, get them moving a bit, and try my darndest to entertain them.  

    Something to understand is that these kids, like most kids here, are pretty wary of the people of a different color. This is reasonable because often their only experience is going to the hospital, getting poked and prodded, and not feeling well. In addition, not one of these kids spoke a lick of French, so our communication was solely non-verbal. Thus, it took a lot of work to get them to warm up. All of them were in private wards, which was convenient, because in my determination to get them to smile, I was plain ridiculous. After much effort, all my dancing, singing, and acting like a fool worked. Father Abraham and the Hokey Pokey are universally absurd. Over a couple weeks, I had prayed a few times with each of them, and I got at least one smile from each kid. 

    Heartbreakingly, two of them didn't make it. One of the little girls died on the same day along with 3 other kids after a hard and exhausting day fighting for each of their precious lives. The other little boy died unexpectedly and inexplicably. I'd be lying if I said that this didn't feel like a punch in the gut. These were the patients that had become more than patients. I've started typing sentence after sentence trying to find a way to justify it or spin it in a positive light, but it feels like lying. I miss them and their beautiful smiles. I'm grateful for the opportunities I had to spend time with them and their families and that I got to pray with them. I am praying extra hard for the other two kids who still have a long road ahead of them, but are doing well. I am trusting in the Sovereignty of God who loves those kids so much more than I do.

     My diet in the past couple weeks has heavily relied on mango muffins, mango smoothies, and juicy, succulent, fresh, plain mangoes. The town I live in is not named Mango after the fruit, but at this time of year, it is very fitting. 

    I am in an incredibly special situation right now. Every day, I am working with a nursing student one on one as they are in their final internship at the hospital. They give me so much grace as I bumble around in French, and they are going to be incredible nurses. It's hard enough explaining EKGs in English- they had to listen to me try in French... This is a rare window of opportunity where ex-pat nurses are desperately needed while the nursing students are being trained. Also, I have been entrusted with teaching on different subjects which has presented unique opportunities that wouldn't happen elsewhere... I thought the timing of my trip was good because it was convenient for me- little did I know how rare and special this time would be. 

                                                 

To those of you still reading, thank you. I wouldn't be here without all of the people who encourage me and support me in so many ways. 

Because they haven't heard,

-C-

   

And Yet...

 "I consider that our present sufferings are not worth comparing with the glory that will be revealed in us" Romans 8: 18

While I acknowledge that death is a part of life, it's hard to accept when it could have been prevented.  Malaria is a preventable and treatable disease. Machines exist that help premature infants breathe until their lungs are more fully developed. Where I'm from, if someone has an injury or accident, some form of healthcare is almost always available. There are various and advanced medications/treatments/surgeries available in developed countries that can either cure or prolong life for patients with heart failure, hepatitis, cancer, sepsis, and other illnesses.

And yet...

"We know that the whole creation has been groaning as in the pains of childbirth right up to the present time" Romans 8:22

Malaria resulted in 435,000 deaths worldwide in 2017. Mothers run into the hospital with their child who has no heartbeat, but is still warm. Without extra respiratory support, we watch as premature babies decline and pass away as their tiny lungs weaken. Amputations, massive infections, and other complications occur from a broken bone or simple accident because they simply waited too long. Doctors and chaplains speak with patients and their families to tell them that there's nothing we can offer them, and I think, "if only...."

And yet...

"We do not know what we ought to pray for, but the Spirit himself intercedes for us" Romans 8:26a

I never assumed that the difficulties that third world countries face would be easy to overcome. However, after living among the people of Togo for five months, I'm realizing it's immensely complicated. The layers of reform needed to create change are massive and interwoven and tangled together.

There is no simple fix. What if we gave everyone a mosquito net? People often sleep outside. Ambulance? Need new roads. New roads? More debt. Health literacy classes? Language, education, and proximity barriers. It goes on. Trying to figure out where to start or how to help most effectively is so far beyond my comprehension and would require fundamental changes on every level.

And yet...

"We know that in all things God works for the good of those who love him, who have been called according to his purpose." Romans 8:28

The Togolese are strong and resilient people. There is an incredible beauty, richness, and strength in the way that families and communities care for each other. In the setting of this vastly different culture, God is working, and the fields are ripe. Circumstances that I have viewed as tragic have also been ways that God has been calling lives to Him. Despite all the sorrow, Hope shines brighter.

For yet...

"Who shall separate us from the love of Christ? Shall trouble or hardship or persecution or famine or nakedness or danger or sword?" Romans 8:35

At times it may feel overwhelming, and that's okay because I want my heart to break for the things that break God's heart. The poverty, low literacy levels, limited healthcare options, or other struggles are not barriers to what God has planned. While hardships may be common now, we consider it all joy.

For yet...

"In all these things we are more than conquerors through him who loved us. I am convinced that neither death nor life, neither angels nor demons,neither the present nor the future, nor any powers, neither height nor depth, nor anything else in all creation, will be able to separate us from the love of God that is in Christ Jesus our Lord." Romans 8:37-39

I may have varying roles, positions, degrees of influence, or callings throughout the course of my life, but nothing I can do could be a panacea. The Day for that is coming. Right now, my role is a nurse in a small hospital in a small town in a small country in a big world.  My position is whatever a 'more than a conqueror' might be. My degree of influence is my circle of family, friends, neighbors, and patients. I know that I was called to Togo for this time in my life. And yet... my real calling is to always do my best to love, obey, trust, and hope. 

Alvin

It was one of my low-energy days, so instead of my usual soccer ball, I grabbed an Alvin and the Chipmunks coloring book and 10 markers.. I walked over to the cuisine where patients lie on mats in the shade, families cook over tiny, coal stoves, and where the only thing that can be found in abundance is time. Home health care is non-existent, so patients with any IV medications, wound care treatments, or follow up appointments can stay in the cuisine for free. I know patients who have lived in the same 8x8 square furnished with a cot for 8 months.

I smiled, greeted, and extended a short bow to everyone as I walked around to find my two little friends who love to play (Both around 6 years old. They don't speak a word of French, and I don't even know their names. We communicate via high fives, fist bumps, laughs, and hugs.).  We found a spot and sat on the small, shaded ledge outside the building. I pulled out the coloring book, ripped a page out for both of them, handed them each a marker, and showed them how to color (for what is probably the first time). As you can imagine, it didn't take long for the entire page to be covered in monochromatic scribbles. I showed them that they could use a different color if they wanted, but I don't think they really cared too much.

It's kind of hard to recall what happened next, but in the span of a couple minutes, a few women came over, and I offered them a page and a marker. Then more women came. And then a few men. And then I ran out of markers. And then I dug through my bag for extra pens. And then more came. And I ran out of pens. And then everybody started sharing their markers. And before I know it, there is a line of 25 chattering people sitting on the ledge coloring Alvin and the Chipmunks. I don't know if it was my lack of clear communication or if they decided to do their own thing, but the trend was that instead of coloring inside the lines, everyone colored the lines. They would carefully trace along Simon's glasses or Theodore's sweater, laugh, and proudly show me their progress. I congratulated them with a 'good work' or a 'very pretty'. They would laugh and hand their marker to their neighbor for a turn.

Sitting on the ledge with both of my little friends leaning against me and using my legs as their tabletop, I reached for my camera to capture the perfect selfie. But then I paused. I don't think taking a photo would exploit anyone (I am frequently recorded doing seemingly insignificant things). Most of the Togolese like having their pictures taken and might even ask for it. I obviously don't have any qualms sharing the story either. But a picture felt like such a cheap memory for a moment that felt so rich.

It took me a while to write this post because I couldn't find my hook. It's a nice story, but what could I do to tie it together or have a strong conclusion that didn't just include me losing several of my markers when I looked at the time and realized I was very late. I also didn't really know why I didn't take a picture or how to identify that feeling in that moment.

Truth is-I still don't really know. Maybe it's that these people have watched me play with their kids for a couple months now and were familiar enough to come and participate this time. Maybe it was that even though I stood out like a sore thumb, I still belonged there. Maybe it was because a picture would put me in center stage when in reality, I was in the audience. Maybe I discovered that the most significant thing I can do is sit on the ledge for an hour, bypass all language barriers, and show that I care just by sharing my time. Or maybe it was a combo of all these things, but I know that it was special.

And after all that, I found my hook. I think it's more of a practical application than a theoretical musing or meaningful conclusion...
After that day, I started bringing more markers.

In Him,
Caroline

Livin On A Prayer

Whooooaaaah, I'm halfway there, living on a prayer! 

Don't worry. While I'm living on plenty of prayers, my fridge is also always full. However, there was one day last week when I didn't get up in time to prepare my lunch and the only thing that was ready to go was leftover lentils. But that was my bad and even that tasted good! Here's your soundtrack for the duration of this post.

I'm just about halfway through my time here in Togo! Time is weird y'all. How can it simultaneously feel like I've been here forever while I also feel like August was just a couple weeks ago?

I'm aware that I'm not terribly good at giving decent updates cause I get distracted or tired of typing, but I'm going to try.

Nursing: There are still times when I am out of my comfort zone, but taking care of newborn babies doesn't paralyze me with fear anymore. The issues we deal with are so different. So who cares if you don't have enema tubing? You MacGyver some foley bags and rig up your own. Each day has challenges- sometimes the challenge is that it's really slow and I get bored. Sometimes it's staying awake during night shift. Sometimes the challenge is that I have 13 patients and don't sit down all day. Sometimes the challenge is dealing with death that wouldn't have happened back home. Sometimes it's trying to push a peanut-butter like protein substance through a NG tube of a malnourished child. Nursing anywhere is a hard job in many aspects and can wear you down. But I love the work. The hospital is a place of hope, and each person working there is crucial to making it happen. We might be the only exposure a person has to true Hope, and that's a very special thing.

Nursing school: The students had a 2 week vacation, but are coming back next week! I get to work with them 2-3 days each week. They have half-day clinicals, and I have the opportunity to be the clinical instructor. They all work so hard and do a great job. It's a unique privilege to help teach and mentor them. Investing in the students is simultaneously investing in the future of the hospital, and I'm so grateful.

Weather: The last couple months have been gloriously cool with temperatures in the 90s during the day and high 60s at night! You may think that's sarcastic, but it's not. However, I think this season is drawing to a close, and the fans are back on. It's so dry. And brown. The hot season is coming, and I'm bracing myself.

Room and Board: As mentioned earlier, I have no complaints about the African diet. My house is great. Unfortunately, we are losing our power and water more consistently for longer periods of time. Apparently that happens during the hot season, but a little preparation will prevent any big inconveniences. Creature update: we have caught 4 mice and another gecko on the trap, but there have been more mice sightings... Also, a gecko apparently started a family in our bathroom which is now populated with several baby geckos.

Roommates: ❤❤❤. I could gush about them all day long. We live together, work together, eat together, pray together, laugh together, ride together, do activities together, struggle together, do ministry together, and they put up with me and support me in all of that. It's a unique situation, and I will forever treasure and be grateful for this time with these girls.

Other: French is hard. Going to the cuisine is fulfilling, but always interesting. I love my moto. I have several opportunities to play and/or be social every week and take full advantage of those. Relationships with other missionaries and Togolese continue to develop, and I have true friends that I've grown to love within both groups.

That Growth Life: I'm growing in my thankfulness for all of you. Thank you for your encouragement and support. I am almost constantly reminded of my own limitations and how much I desperately need God to supply my daily strength. There are innumerable reminders of how He is working not only in Togo, but at home too.

To the second half!
-C-

2018

Hello my friends!

   At the end of the year, I like to try to reflect and remember and review and recall and reminisce about everything that occurred. Now that sounds deep and thoughtful, but I'm not really a deep and thoughtful person. I'm a list person. So what it really entails is looking through lists of things that happened this year, thinking, 'this was a great year!', and then calling it a day.

   In my review, 2018 really was a pretty fantastic year. I crossed a number of items off my bucket list (appearing as an extra on Chicago Med, completing my Master's degree, giving a commencement address, winning a LipSync battle, embarking on a medical missions trip, and owning a motorcycle among others). I got to travel to new places (including 4 new countries), learn a bunch, read 38 books, and do so many fun things. I've met and gotten to know so many incredible people that I've made a list so I wouldn't forget anyone. I reviewed the list of my financial and prayer supporters that brought me to Togo, and I am once again so thankful. The list of things that I'm thankful and the list of people I'm praying for keep growing.  I'm also counting my phone's photo gallery as a visual list of things that have happened, and I am reminded of so many joy-filled days. I am blessed beyond measure.

This was a great year!

   And now, in an effort to reflect for a moment beyond my normal, I'll try to write a brief reflection.  In the past few weeks, I've been reading the Valley of Vision (collection of Puritan prayers), gone through a couple tough days at the hospital, and have had a few conversations with different people, and have been reminded of a few things. Here's another list cause I can't resist. 1. True joy is found only in Jesus. 2. Whether I am checking something off my bucket list, having just a normal day, or performing CPR on yet another infant, the Source for hope and joy and peace is Jesus. 3. It's easy to be distracted by both the happy things and/or the hard things, but it's really all about Jesus. 4. Everything that happened this year- big or small, all the growth, all the blessings, all the fun, and all the hurt is so small compared to the majesty and power of Jesus.

See ya in 2019!

In Him,
Caroline

A Collection

Hello my friends!

It's been a while. Two reasons. 1. My schedule is filled up. 2. All of the things I want to share don't really require their own blog post. I'm just collecting all sorts of stuff and now I'm going to share them in this little collection. I haven't written the rest of this yet, but you may expect some sagas, vignettes, anecdotes, updates, lists, and whatever else comes out of this.

Let's start off with a fun one.

Caroline vs. Critters. 
Chapter 1. The Gecko Saga
    It all started my first week in Mango. The morning of my birthday, I was getting ready for work and saw a critter run right past me into the laundry room. I started and gave a little shriek. Thinking it was a mouse, I informed people who knew what to do, and was given a sticky mouse trap. For months, it just sat there collecting dust. The occasional spider or cockroach climbed on, but there were no further mouse sightings. Fast forward 3 months. I walk by and notice a large gecko on the trap. 
    Now I think it's necessary to describe the relationship I have with geckos. They range in size, but are generally smallish and are generally smoother than lizards. They live in houses and help eat insects. They run around on the walls and don't bother anybody- there's an occasional jump scare when you open your cabinet and see one scurrying away, but we just leave them alone and agree to co-exist. 
    The gecko on the mousetrap is there for about a day until one of my roommates got a glove and scooped the gecko off the trap and let it go outside. Unfortunately, it was too weak or injured from the trap, couldn't move, and died.
    But that was just the beginning. (Dun dun dun)

    Within the next couple of days, two more geckos apparently went on a suicide mission to revenge their leader and got themselves stuck on the trap! (At this point, I have something to confess. I was not in the mood to deal with this. I was working night shift and was tired and grossed out. I ignored the problem and avoided responsibility for too long.)
     Another day passes. Another gecko had made a valiant attempt to rescue the other two, but had gotten stuck.
     The next day. Two more joined the party. There were FIVE geckos trapped on the mousetrap.
     Finally. While I was at work, two of my roommates went in and witnessed a SIXTH gecko jump on! Enough was enough and the two of them were brave enough to scoop up the trap and take it outside to our guard. 
    The rest of the story is hearsay, but was apparently traumatic. The guard took the other 5 geckos into the back, and the rest is simply a mystery- but allegedly you could hear some thudding. 
     We did not put the trap back out.

The End.

Chapter 2. Caroline the Spider-Slayer

    Once upon a time, the hospital was nearly void of patients, and Caroline was bored. After doing her normal work, playing with her pediatric patient, scrubbing, wiping down, organizing, and cleaning for most of the morning, she had the bright idea to get rid of all the cobwebs in the corners of the wards.
    Armed with a rag atop a broom, she went to work. Quickly, she realized that there was the added challenge of nearly all the cobwebs still being occupied. What could've been perceived of as disgusting turned into a quest to defeat all of the spiders inhabiting the hospital.  The prey would sometimes leap to the ground and try to hide, but would not get far before being crushed by broom or foot. She started out counting her slaughtered foes, but lost count.
    The final tally was somewhere around 200ish. The enemy was defeated. The quest was fulfilled. And much fun was had. 

The End.

Even when it Hurts

If you've talked to me about this, you know that I care a lot about dying. After working on oncology for 3 years, I care a lot about how people experience the end of life.

I've watched a lot of kids die here. During a code, I usually jump into CPR and there have been a number of times where I have been the one to give the last breath or the last compression before we stop. And that hurts.

In a limited resource setting, there are a number of different illnesses or conditions where there is no way of treating a patient. There are currently no resources for a patient having a stroke or 3rd degree heart block or advanced liver cancer. And that hurts.

There are so many heartbreaking situations.

In the midst of this, the doctors that I work with here are so filled with the love of God for the people in their care, that even when it hurts, they still decide to care. Even when it hurts and they have to have hard conversations, they speak to the patients and their families with honesty and dignity. Even when it hurts to say that there's nothing we can do, there are chaplains there who deliver the Good News because they want to share the hope they have. It breaks my heart when we take all of the lines off of a dying baby and hand him to his mama so she can hold him as he passes away. It breaks a little further as we gather around her and the doctor prays, but we praise Him for His goodness and His faithfulness even when it hurts.

Behold Our God
   Today I had the incredible opportunity to go to a baptism. We piled in cars and drove out to a village where there has been a Bible study led by some of the hospital employees and chaplains. When we arrived, there were a whole bunch of people under a tree singing and dancing. We prayed together, and then started walking towards the river. The line of people in a single file line stretched way down the road. As they walked, the people being baptized kept on singing. At the riverbank, a pastor gave a message which was translated into the local language and then those being baptized started lining up. 

   Baptisms can make me cry nearly any day, but today I found it extra powerful. Before I left the house this morning, I got a video from my mom from the Christmas concert at my home church with the whole choir and orchestra singing the song Behold Our God. We sing it frequently here, and it's become my theme song for this year. 
   As 30ish people publicly declared their love for the Lord, that song was running through my head. Then that thing happened when all your thoughts mix together and I thought about the people back home singing, 'come let us adore Him', and the people in the hot sun on the riverbank singing praises in a language I can't understand, and the choir in heaven celebrating each life that comes to Him, and how even our most majestic forms of worship can't begin to do Him justice. I heard the story of how the Bible study started in this village which started with the tragedy of a little boy dying in our hospital. During his time there, his relative heard about Jesus and brought Him back with her. And then when the line was finished, I looked back up the riverbank, and saw most of the newly baptized wearing a new yellow cloth. As we walked back, they were still singing and I heard them chanting a familiar word: Alleluia. God be praised. Come let us adore Him. 

I'd love to make a full post about this next topic sometime, but I haven't found the thoughts or the words or the conclusions yet.

Sharing

There are up to 10 patients in a ward with nothing separating the beds. The patients are cared for by their family members, and I never thought I'd have to work so hard to identify which family member belongs to who. They sleep on mats on the floor and bring their meals inside and eat on the floor too. Kids run or crawl around the ward- at least halfway naked more often than not. 

And they share.

Water out of the same bowl. A meal including the whole ward. Village languages translated into French. Discharge instructions given through a complete stranger. Turns giving food the the woman there alone. Help and caring regardless of relation. Gifts given that are immediately shared with a neighbor. 

And now I'm asking, what is my role in this? Does giving ever become too much? When does sharing hurt? If I do share what I have, where do I draw the line? Should there be a line? Why don't they save? Why do I save so much? What would this level of sharing look like in America? 

I don't know a single answer. 

A List.
Of completely unrelated things that I still have left to say. 

1. This is my 14 year old friend S who was electrocuted and lost his right hand. His other arm might need amputation as well. He is in the process of getting a prosthetic. Most importantly, he's open to hearing about Jesus. Pray for him. 


2. I saw a cockroach in my bathroom today and calmly picked up the closest heavy item and smashed it without hesitation. Contrast this with the first time that happened and it took a 10 minute standoff with much shrieking and flinching while standing on top of the tub. Progress.

3. Here's a video of my newest project/hobby. These are kids who are staying in our cuisine. The cuisine is basically a building that has divided areas where people can sleep. There is running water and some places where people can build a fire for food. It's mostly there for patients who have been discharged but still need wound care or medications, patient families, or patients who come from a long ways away. They can be there for anywhere from a couple days to 8 months. A couple of people have ministries in the cuisine, but one of them is leaving this week, and I get to help continue her ministry with the kids. Basically, I get to play games with them whenever I can. It's a pretty sweet deal. 

4. Riding a unicycle in a skirt is nearly impossible.

5. I realized recently that I haven't given a single update about my work with the students. Whoops.  For about 7 weeks now, I've gotten to work with students in the clinical setting in addition to working as a nurse. I love working and teaching in that setting, and I love the students. They are so smart and have such great hearts for nursing and their patients. It's been encouraging for me, and I've learned a lot from them. Also, it really helps my French. Please pray because there are seeds that have been sown and tended and watered and are growing. These students are part of the future of the hospital, and they have so much potential.

6. I love and miss y'all. Have a Merry Christmas!

Because they haven't heard,

Caroline