doingmercy                                                   on a hospital ship in Africa.                    

National Geographic recently released their eight-part part series filmed on board the Africa Mercy in Cotonou, Benin. Each episode is 40 minutes and you can watch a 30 second trailer here or find all 8 episodes here!  

Last week in Toamasina, Madagascar, Wesley completed 12 years in our on board Mercy Ships Academy. Like his sister, he graduated with a class of three who each addressed the crew during their commencement ceremony.  Here’s what Wesley said:

 I was six years old when I first heard about the slave trade. My mom likes to tell the   story of how I came home from school that day, confused,

 "Mom, do you know what they did to our people? They put us in boats and shipped us over to America. And then they made us work on their farms--and we didn’t even get paid!"

“Wesley, do you think you’re African-American?” my mom asked. 

“Well, of course I am.  I’m an American from Africa aren’t I?"

 I was born 18 years ago in the United States. Two months later, as soon as I could get my passport, and literally a butt-load of injections, my parents brought me to Benin where I boarded the M/V Anastasis. You wouldn’t recognize me back then because believe it or not -- I was quite the chubby baby. Since then, I’ve lived in ten different African nations. I’ve experienced both the rugged beauty of this great continent, as well as her heart-breaking struggles – all within the safety and strength of this diverse community of faith.

Looking back, it was an amazing childhood. I can honestly say that I’m glad my parents brought me to Africa and into the life-changing mission of Mercy Ships.  I wouldn’t trade it for anything. But, I would be less than honest, if I didn’t admit to you that I haven’t always felt this way.

It was about two years ago and as usual tons of people were leaving the ship. Overnight. six of my closest friends were gone and our high school population decimated! I was done. I felt like I just couldn’t do it anymore. So I told my parents I wanted to go back to America—there would be friends for me there—lots of them.

As you can imagine, our family had many intense conversations about what we should do. And in the end, my mom put it all on the line. “ Let’s pray about it, Wesley” she said.  We each bowed our heads and asked God to somehow make his will known to us. Should we stay or should we go? I felt the immense weight of it; our family’s future was in my hands. 

After some time, my mom asked, “Wesley—tell us, what you think God is saying?” 

 “I think I’m supposed to go back to the ship. I think that is what he is saying to me.”

And so, we rejoined the ship for [our first visit to Madagascar].

And guess what happened next?

Nothing.  

That’s right. Absolutely nothing happened. There was no miraculous influx of new students my age. Everything was exactly as I feared it would be. And yet, over the next year, I learned one of the most important lessons of my life. As it turns out, circumstances I don’t like, have very little to do with true joy and contentment.  

The best explanation I can find for this is in Romans 12 where in the Message version Paul writes this: 

"So here’s what I want you to do, God helping you: Take your everyday, ordinary life—your sleeping, eating, going-to-work, and walking-around life—and place it before God as an offering. Embracing what God does for you is the best thing you can do for him. Don’t become so well adjusted to your culture that you fit into it without even thinking. Instead, fix your attention on God. You’ll be changed from the inside out. Readily recognize what he wants from you, and quickly respond to it. Unlike the culture around you, always dragging you down to its level of immaturity, God brings the best out of you, develops well-formed maturity in you."

When I chose  to go back to the ship, the circumstances I didn’t like remained the same. But something did change—and that something was deep inside of me. I became more focused on the people around me. I found out that the little kid were worth investing in. And the older crew had a lot more to offer than I ever imagined. Paul was right—forget about the things around you that you can’t change. Fix your attention on God and you’ll be changed from the inside out.

Next September, I’ll join my sister at Whitworth University, in Spokane, WA where I plan to pursue coursework in pre-physical therapy. Oh and, by the way, that thing about me being an African American?  Whitworth gave me a diversity scholarship for growing up on a ship in Africa. So that worked out pretty well for me.

In closing, I’d like to shine a light on the two coolest people I know: Susan and Gary Parker--or as I like to call them, mom and dad.  They both have amazing qualities and characteristics, making for very good offspring...

My mom is persevering, determined, and caring. If there is anything that needs to be done, whether it’s planning a fun summer holiday, organizing the community meeting, or raising two teenage boys she gets it done with excellence. And if ever I have a problem, or don’t know how to do something, she spends as long as it takes to help me find a solution.   

 I think you’ll agree that my dad is an extraordinary surgeon, but he is also an extra-ordinary father. He is wise, kind, leads by example and lives to serve. He always asks if there is anything that I need help with, and is there to comfort me when I feel down or defeated. 

I am incredibly blessed to have these two great people in my life—as I am for each of you – Mr. Forrest, Academy teachers, my best mate, Bendik, fellow Academy students, and Africa Mercy Crew. 

Thank you all for being an important part of making this year, the best year of my life!

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Click on the photo for a  two minute overview of our maxillofacial program—just one aspect of what we do on board the Africa Mercy.

Next week journalist and former White House Press Secretary, Dana Perino, will visit the Africa Mercy on location in the Congo. As it turns out, a college classmate of mine, Sam Ebersole, taught Dana at Colorado State. Unfortunately, I won't be on board to impress Dana with this proof of how small the world really is, as I'm in the US with our daughter, Carys, getting her ready to move into the dorms at Whitworth University.  This momentous event will take place in just nine days! 

Gary and Wesley returned to the ship in Pointe Noire a few weeks ago. Shortly after they arrived, a small flood occurred -- apparently the toilet went into free-flow -- and the boys now get to use the public bathroom a few decks down while some spare parts are located. Yeah, I'm really glad I'm here and not there.  

As a lead in to Dana's upcoming visit to the Africa Mercy, her blog is featuring a weekly piece on various crewmembers. You may read her latest post -- an interview with Gary here.  

Photo:  © Carys Parker

Most everybody has heard one telling or another of what's known as the starfish story. But I have my own version:  

This past December we spent some time at the beach with friends. And one afternoon as Carys and I walked along the shoreline, we came upon a stretch of sand littered with starfish. The tide had receded leaving them high and dry and as the story goes, if you leave starfish to bake in the sun they won't survive.

So, Carys began to throw the starfish back into the sea one, by one, by one.  And in the original story at some point, an old man, who had lived long and gathered much wisdom would amble by, and upon observing her efforts, say something like this:  "You know, there's really no point to what you are doing. No matter how many starfish you return to the sea, and no matter how long you're willing to persevere, you will never get to them all. Don't waste your time, because in the end it just won't matter."

And without missing a beat, as she bent to pick up one more starfish, Carys would say to the wise old man, "Well sir, with all due respect, it matters to this one."

I don't know about you, but at one time or another, I've identified with each character in this story. 

Sometimes I'm Carys--the one rescuing the starfish. 

Many more times though, I find I'm the starfish needing to be rescued.

But I'd be less than honest, if I didn't admit that there are times when I'm more like the cynical old man--kind of burned out on the compassion business.

Because, there's no end to the relentless, crushing need in nations where the majority survive on less than $2 per day. There's no distance between "us" and "them." The poor have a face; they have a name. But no matter how much we do for Mamadou, or give to Fatou, or help Aminata, it's only and always just one drop in an ocean of need.

And sometimes, I just want to turn away and pretend I didn't see. 

                                       Africa Mercy Surgical Selection Day | Lomé, Togo

                                             © Jacques-Jean Tiziou for Mercy Ships

Then along comes British anaesthetist Dr. Keith Thomson--my role model in moving beyond the limits of what I think I'm able to do, or what the confines of my job require that I do. Being around him has opened up a whole new potential world of what I could do -- maybe, even what I was created to do.  

You see, for Dr. Keith, anesthesia is his day job. He gets involved with all kinds of people, in all kinds of situations. It might be the Beninoise patient whose cleft lip we repaired, but whose parents couldn't pay his school-fees, or the Togolaise taxi driver who was looking for a micro loan to start up a small business. And then there was the Liberian church pastor who needed a toilet for his church building -- and subsequently named the new toilet after Keith! Once it was a woman in Sierra Leone who would have died in childbirth because she lacked the $100 needed for a c-section...

He calls them his Starfish.

  Dr. Keith Thomson                                               

©  Mercy Ships International

In 2008 the Africa Mercy was back in post-war Liberia for the second time. After lunch on Easter Sunday, Dr. Keith asked if I would accompany him to visit a patient at JFK Hospital in Monrovia. A few days earlier he had observed surgery on Mary, a newborn who had a life threatening condition. As he watched, he noticed that the local staff member was struggling to intubate and Mary was becoming increasingly blue and her heartbeat was slowing. Dr. Keith offered to help. He quickly intubated Mary and then handed her back to the anaesthetic nurse and the surgical team continued.  The operation was successful and we were on our way to JFK because Dr. Keith, who was now referring to Mary as "his baby," wanted to help her mom with the hospital bill. 

                                             Photo:  © Keith Thomson

As we we chatted with Mary's mom, Dr. Keith noticed a little girl with a bandaged mouth a few beds away and before going off to investigate told me that he had heard about her on the ship. A crewmember named Betty had been trying to get her seen on board, but our surgical lists were so full that there didn't seem to be any chance of that.

                                              Photo:  © Keith Thomson

      Eight year old Blessing was perfectly healthy just weeks before.

Then one day on her way home from school, she tripped and fell into a ditch.  She cut her knee and it became seriously infected -- which led to sepsis, and this created the environment for a disease called noma to take hold. 

The result was devastating.

                                               Photo:  © Betty Mann

                                            Photo:  © Betty Mann

And what happened next is too awful to show you. Known locally as the "melting disease," over the space of a few weeks' time, Blessing's lips and the columella of her nose necrosed and fell away leaving a raw open gash across her face.

Dr. Keith introduced himself to Blessing's mom, Martha, and asked permission to take some photos to bring back to the ship. He then turned and said,

"Susan, Blessing is your starfish. Your husband and his team can change the course of this little girl's life, but there's no space on the surgical list.  You be her advocate."

Back at the ship, we showed the photos to Gary -- and indeed he did say, "No."  He was very sorry and wished he could help, but there was simply no wiggle room in the schedule. He and the hospital team were maxed out. 

But at JFK hospital Blessing's mom, Martha, was praying.

And somehow, I don't know how, a little crack in the schedule opened up and 12 days later, Blessing was transferred to the Africa Mercy in a Liberian ambulance. A coincidence?  Perhaps. But I tend to agree with Sir Winston Temple who liked to say, "Coincidences seem to happen much more often when I pray."

Over the next nine months, Blessing had a series of four surgeries to create a new pair of lips, using a flap from her neck. A skin graft was also placed on her wounded knee.

                 Carys was Blessing's faithful companion through the months of surgery and recovery

                                                           Blessing, just before we sailed from Liberia.  

                                                        ©  Mercy Ships International

After the ship sailed, we kept in touch with Martha and Blessing and two years later they traveled to the ship in Sierra Leone to have further revision of her new lips. And let's just say that it's a long, slow process to make lips look like lips--when all there is to work with is a flap from the neck!  

By now Blessing's had another problem.  Her leg had significantly contracted, causing her great difficulty in walking. Unfortunately the hoped for orthopedic consult was not possible as we had no orthopedic surgeons on board at the time. 

                   Blessing and her mom, Martha -- who never stopped praying and never gave up.      

                                   Freetown, Sierra Leone ©  Mercy Ships International

Martha continued to call and write over the next year and a half, reminding me that Blessing's crippled leg was a huge problem, "Please don't forget about us," she urged. 

This past November, a way was found to once again squeeze Blessing into our surgical program here in Guinea, and Blessing and Martha excitedly made their way to the ship from Liberia. 

And, finally, after four years of walking back and forth to school dragging her crippled leg, Blessing had her knee joint straightened and reinforced with a surgical plate by Mercy Ships' orthopedic surgeon, Dr. Frank.

                                     Africa Mercy Hospital Ward | Conakry, Guinea.            

                                           Photo: © Debra Bell for Mercy Ships

Martha and Blessing were with us for three months in Guinea as the recovery process and physical therapy are quite lengthy for this procedure.  Gary took the opportunity to have another go at her lips, and here she is looking beautiful with her leg straight, ready to return home. 

                         Carys who is off to university next Fall says goodbye to her childhood friend. 

                                           Photo: © Debra Bell for Mercy Ships     

So, the next time the cynical old man offers you his sage advice,  "You know, there's really no point to what you are doing. No matter how many starfish you return to the sea, and no matter how long you're willing to persevere, you will never get to them all. Don't waste your time, because in the end it just won't matter."

You just tell him, "Well sir, with all due respect, it matters to this one."