Ask

    Gary Chapman might not have included it on his list, but one of my main love languages is Asking Questions. I feel like it's an incredible way of showing people you value them. On most nights, my roommates and I ask a 'question of the day' which then turns into a discussion lasting past our bedtimes. My mom sends me questions to answer on a regular basis in addition to our normal conversations, and I feel so loved.

    I've found that asking meaningful questions can be difficult when you're living across the world. I don't know what you did this weekend or what was making you stressed out this week or where you're going for Christmas or how the renovations on your house are moving along. If I do get an update of how your life is going, it's generally the highlights or abbreviated version. I miss a lot of the details. I think that goes for most long-distance relationships unless you're talking pretty darn regularly. While I don't think this is a bad thing on its own, it does mean I have to try harder to ask good questions.

    While being home this summer, I had opportunities to talk to lots of people about my time in Togo. I told lots of people about the wild hippos I saw and the street food I tried and how hot it gets. But to be brutally honest, lots of times the conversation would stop there. It felt like there was so much to say, it was hard to even start.

   I am coming home for Christmas and will stay for 3 weeks. I don't normally write blogs like this, but I'm gonna ask you to do something for me. If we chat over the holidays or if you write me a facebook message or if you support any other missionary, ask questions.

Ask to hear about something encouraging and you might hear about the Bible study my roommate started at a sewing school for girls coming from troubled backgrounds. You might hear about how they are hearing familiar Bible stories for the first time and how they acted out the Nativity.

Ask what has been challenging and maybe you'll hear about teaching the new aides or stalling my new moto or being patient with a mama who doesn't really love her precious baby.

Aides practicing CPR

Ask how God has been working and you'll hear about my student who had tears in his eyes when being presented with the Gospel. You could hear about how my heart is being challenged to be more obedient and humble. Or the woman who had been discipled in prison for the past 3 years and last month was set free.

Ask what projects are in the works and you'll probably get a different answer each time.

Ask about cultural experiences and I'll show you the picture of the baby on my back or cooking a Togolese dish in a Togolese home.

Cooking a Togolese meal

Remember my twin? She's 8 months now! 

Ask about a recent adventure and I could tell you about moto rides or getting a new cat or mishaps in market or teaching P.E. to 20 missionary kids every week.

On a moto ride

Ask about the people who mean a lot to me. I could talk for hours about my 4 year old BFF or my roomies or my neighbors or coworkers or my special patients or my incredible teammates.

I don't think the specific questions matter as much as just asking. And ask other missionaries questions too. It is encouraging to be remembered and I believe it honors God when we share stories of how He is working. Thank you all for being so supportive. Hope to see a bunch of you when I'm Stateside!

Because they haven't heard,
-C-

Qualified

   As a kid, I thought that there would be a point in life when I'd suddenly be a functional adult. Some birthday would pass, and I would magically wake up knowing how to buy a house, how much to pay for beef, and reading the terms and conditions before I accepted them. Now I'm in my mid to late 20s and as a 'full-fledged adult', I often find myself looking around for an adultier adult who actually knows how to adult. It was a similar feeling the first time I took care of my own patients as a nurse- when there wasn't anybody watching over me to make sure I didn't make a mistake. I feigned confidence, but if there was a problem, I was ready to run and get the 'real' nurse. It took time to realize that was, in fact, me.

    This past year, I've come to accept that feeling as my continual state of being. At the Hospital of Hope, there aren't specialized teams for codes, IVs, chemotherapy, respiratory treatments, procedures, or EKGs. Though I might feel inadequately prepared, it lands back on me, so I guess that makes me qualified. My first big project since returning to Togo is training and preparing a new class of nurses aides for the hospital. Ultimately, it's up to me to create the schedule, calendar, and content for the entirety of their training. Last week they started shadowing in the hospital, and so I came to greet them and help orient them on their first day at their new job. It was incredibly daunting to walk up, meet, greet, instruct, and then supervise in another language. Yet, when it comes down to it, someone put me in charge, so I approached them with all of the fake confidence I could muster. Tomorrow they start their classroom teaching, and while I have prepared as much as I possibly can, I still feel like there should be an adultier adult around who's actually in charge. Another opportunity I have this year is to teach P.E. once a week to 20+ MKs ages 6-14ish. I find this particularly funny because as a homeschooler, I never once set foot in an actual P.E. class. But, I am willing, so we're gonna pretend I can do it.

   This continual state of feeling unqualified but doing it anyway has changed me. I'm not always successful, and I make so many mistakes, but I have grown. I feel more comfortable in my own weaknesses and have relied on God more when I face things that are daunting. And when I don't measure up to what I hope for or expect, I am still a child of God and that's pretty great.

New nursing aides learning to chart vitals

However, all this has made me wonder... does anyone actually ever feel truly qualified? When does that happen? How does that happen? Or is the world just full of people pretending that they know what they're doing?
Let me know if you figure it out :)
-C-

Like Riding a Bike

Hey friends!

    I have been back in Togo for nearly two weeks and immediately felt welcomed back into the special community that this place has offered me. I moved back into my old room and put my things back in their spot. The call to prayer sounds outside my window five times a day and is my personal reminder to pray for the people who live all around me without the hope of Jesus. I hopped back on a moto and hear the familiar chant of 'Batule'  (white person) everywhere I go. I'm back to wearing long skirts and sweating 95% of the day. My relationships with neighbors, coworkers, and teammates have picked up right where they left off, and new friendships are already forming. I'm in the preliminary, prioritizing, and planning phases of a plethora of projects. My feet are constantly dirty and there's a mouse living in my roommate's drawer, so nothing has really changed. It's good to be back.

    It's not always easy though. My first full day back in the hospital was a slap in my face reminder of the realities of healthcare in Africa. We coded and lost three patients. One of the isolettes holding a set of premature twins was swarmed by ants crawling on the tiny bodies despite multiple thorough cleanings and me frantically trying to block them from getting in. I gave chemo, hung blood, measured meds, and fed five babies every three hours. By the end of the day, I was discouraged and exhausted. But here's the thing. After work, I was invited to dinner with friends where a full plate was put in front of me and the conversation had me laughing again within minutes. That night, I turned on worship songs and flipped to the passages in Scripture where God promises that He is good, that He is with us, and that there is hope. A day that reminded me of all the tragedy I see in Togo also reminded me that we weren't made for this world and that there is a better one coming.

    Days that are the hardest are also the days when I draw closer to God and am thus even more grateful for the good days.  After living in a third-world country away from everything that was familiar, my time in the past few months with family and friends and the comforts of life back home was that much sweeter. Change can be hard, but it teaches me how to embrace the old along with the new. Whether the day reveals our desperate need for heaven or gives us a tiny glimpse of how it might look, we can live with hope and expectation.

Thanks for checking back in!
I'll be around :)
Because they haven't heard,
-C- 
 

I found my twin!

A game of pick up sticks with my neighbors- they get very competitive ;)

 

There and Back Again

Family, friends, and friends who are more like family,

    Exactly 1 year ago, I left for Togo- completely naive to how much I would be stretched and how God would use those 10 months to teach me so much. It was hard. It was hot. It was heartbreaking at times. My life was enriched in unexpected and significant ways. Since being back in the States, I have had the opportunity to share with many people some of the things that God is doing in Togo. And while I fit right back in at home, I still felt strongly that my time in Togo was not finished. In the midst of the conversations and prayers that followed, it made a lot of sense to go back to Togo sooner rather than later. I don't think this is too much of a surprise to most people, but I am so happy to tell you that I am headed back to Togo in October for approximately 6 months.
    My time there will look slightly different since the students I worked with this past year graduated and started working in June. In the upcoming months, there are a number of projects that I'll tackle which are focused on continuing nurse education and hospital system improvements. The hospital has grown and served over 50,000 patients since it opened in 2015. My hope is that I can help to make things continue to run smoothly as the hospital provides high quality care for the coming years. I will also continue working in the hospital 2-3 days/week as well as investing in relationships with the Togolese.

   Ready for the other foot to drop? Well, guess what. I'm not fundraising! How is that you ask? Well, the money you so generously donated to me last year was more than enough for my 10 months there, and is very nearly enough to cover the next six months. The rest will be self-funded, and I am blessed. That being said, some people have expressed a desire to support the ministry and the hospital, so if you are feeling led, here are some links to specific and worthy funds.

         -If you donate to my account,  I will either use the money for personal ministry or
         for a project in which I'm involved https://www.abwe.org/work/missionaries/caroline-klingbeil

        -Benevolent fund to support the care of patients who don't have the means to pay for their         
         hospital bill https://www.abwe.org/work/projects/hope-patient-care-fund

        - Support the fund for pediatric care at the Hospital of Hope
          https://www.abwe.org/work/projects/hoh-togo-pediatric-care

       -Fund the Christian schools in Togo which include a new school opening in Mango in         
        2020. https://www.abwe.org/work/projects/bible-baptist-schools-togo

   Thank you all for your continued support. I have heard from so many people who have told me they've been praying for me. This makes it both easier and harder to leave again, but I am so humbled and grateful. I would ask you to continue to pray. Pray that God will be glorified in Togo, for safe travel and health, for the ministry at the hospital, and for my relationships with the Togolese. Thank you all.

Because they haven't heard,
    Caroline

Always

Hey friends,
   I've been trying to write this post for about a month now, but I couldn't figure out how. A "final"  or "goodbye" Togo post felt like closing the book on a chapter of my life that I wasn't ready to end, so I put it off. There are a few other things that have been a little tricky to figure out....Like my future... And after being back for a month, I'm still not sure where I'm going from here, what my life should look like, or even what I would like my future to look like. Also, It's hard to try to wrap up the last 10 months into a normal conversation.  My perspective has understandably changed on a lot of things. It's not that reverse culture shock has been so bad or that I didn't naturally fit back into my routine back home, but I think I've had a hard time figuring out how to talk to people about my time in Togo.

   You know those books where it takes about half of the book for the plot to even start? The author needs to take a lot of time to give you context and background so that the reader is truly invested in the story and characters. Sometimes, my experience with talking to people in a passing conversation about life in a different country has been like picking a random chapter out of one of those books and expecting the person to understand what's going on (I was going to give specific examples here, but the only examples I could think of exposed how nerdy I am). This isn't a bad thing, but it's something that I'm continuing to figure out as I try to reacclimate and live fully in the next chapter that life brings.

   So, while I stalled on writing, my family had the privilege to go on a cruise to the Bahamas. Let me tell ya, there is quite a stark contrast between Mango, Togo and a cruise ship- they don't have a lot in common. But. I found one thing, so let me tell you a story.  Before we left, my sister and I went over a quick checklist of the 'things you don't want to forget to pack for your summer vacation' (passport, phone charger, deodorant, etc.). She reminded me to bring my sunglasses, but what did I forget? My sunglasses. Not a huge deal, but it is minorly inconvenient when you're planning on sunbathing in the Caribbean. When we got to our room, I looked under the bed to see if there was room for our suitcase, and what did I see? A pair of beautiful, plastic, heart-shaped, tween, not-at-all-tacky sunglasses- which I proudly wore throughout the rest of our vacation (see picture below).

   Why the story about sunglasses? Because in the months I spent in Togo, there were countless sunglasses stories. Before I left, I sent out one letter, and in just 6 weeks, I received more than enough support to send me to Togo. I got a large hole in the sole of my tennis shoes, but someone who was leaving gave me an even nicer pair in my exact size the very next day.  I lost my bathing suit, but a bathing suit in my size showed up on the free table the next week. I didn't bring enough skin lotion to combat the dry season, and a missionary bought me her favorite kind as a gift. My backpack and flip flops and favorite cami and swimsuit all held out til my very last week in Togo and then fell apart. When I knew absolutely no one in the country, I made lifelong friendships and found incredible community. The day I came home from work with absolutely nothing left, my roommates fixed me a hot plate of food and fresh muffins and asked me to play and sing worship songs until I could smile again. During those days at the hospital where I ran from task to task as fast as my skirt would allow, people showed up at just the right time to help. While teaching a nursing course for the first time in a different language, the students and I all gave and received grace as we communicated and understood each other. In all of the times when I thought I wasn't good enough or was out of my league or that I couldn't do it, there was a  'Rock of Refuge to which I can always go' Psalm 71:3. 

He was always there. He was always enough. He always will be. 

    So in conclusion, one doesn't need sunglasses in order to have a good vacation, and God doesn't have to provide every time I am a ditz and forget, ruin, wear out or lose things. However, He is faithful. As I talk to people about everything I learned in Togo, I can focus on glorifying Him and sharing about the work He is doing. And no matter what the next chapter brings...

  

 "I will always have hope;

    I will praise you more and more.

My mouth will tell of your righteous deeds,

    of your saving acts all day long—

    though I know not how to relate them all.

 I will come and proclaim your mighty acts, Sovereign Lord;

    I will proclaim your righteous deeds, yours alone.

 Since my youth, God, you have taught me,

    and to this day I declare your marvelous deeds.

 Even when I am old and gray,

    do not forsake me, my God,

till I declare your power to the next generation,

                                    your mighty acts to all who are to come."       Psalm 71:14-18

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-