humbled again. and ashamed of my assumptions. i have a story to share.
i've written before about the constant need that surrounds us and the pendulum swing of my response. we are asked often and by all types of people, from neighbors to strangers, for money or food or assistance. we are told many stories of hardship and loss and desperation and hopelessness- that all demand a response- usually while looking into the eyes of the one experiencing the trouble. i vacillate between a broken and a hardened heart. there are times when i can't believe how blessed and lucky i am and how easy i've had it compared with most of the world and i cry right along with the person sitting on my porch and reach into my wallet and cupboard and pray with them and as i watch them walk away i hope that their story is true, that i haven't been taken advantage of - which is kind of absurd because even if their story is made up i still have way more then most of the people here (so can i even say 'taken advantage of''?)
other times i am really resentful of the requests, the assumptions that my white skin means money, as if i should fill in the gaps of history and make right all the wrongs.
and then sometimes i sit in the middle and try to be soft hearted, and think of the 30,000 foot view. i think about what will really make a difference- which is really why we are here- in a long and lasting way- which involves relationship and mentoring and living together in community and following up and not just sticking fingers into holes made by someone else- because we only have 10 fingers and there are just too many holes.
on sunday a friend of zoe's came over to talk with me. i have mixed feelings about this friend. my gut tells me that i like her- but i've been warned that she steals- that she's not trustworthy. she came this day to see me, not zoe, 'auntie- can i speak with you?'
she began to cry big tears about how sick her sister was- how they needed money- how her sister has low sugar. i'm embarrassed to say that the pendulum was stuck way over in 'annoyed by being asked' again. i didn't feel badly for her at all- i was angry that i was being called upon to give more hand outs. but i listened- gave her a large bag of food from our kitchen and told her as a doctor i'd be happy to see her sister. i wondered what she'd do with the food- she wasn't very happy or grateful.
the next day her mom and sister arrived at my doorstep with a pile of medical bills and reports. i greeted them, impressed that they'd come, and reviewed the material and listened. it was the typical story of many bouts of "malaria"- usually with no parasites seen on blood smear, versus "hysteria" aka- not a medical problem. i probed some more.
the girl is "visited in the night by a woman dressed in black who says she is going to kill her"- she fears all night and becomes sick with headaches- and "malaria". it started the year after her father died- (of malaria) she was first visited by snakes, now it's the woman in black. there was no family history of mental illness, and i couldn't illicit any obvious clinical depression, there were no loose associations, no manic behavior- and i wasn't convinced that this 'visitor' was an auditory/ visual hallucination, and not just a bad dream, or even, a spirit- because here, witchcraft is very real.
whatever was going on, i was pretty sure i was out of my league. that she needed a psychiatrist and a priest- not an internist- but turns out i needed to be both. on the medical side we discussed mosquito nets- and preventive measures to avoid getting malaria- and i gave her a net, nsaids and panadol and my cell phone number and suggested they call me next time she is sick. i questioned her about trauma, about abuse, or rape, but she denied anything other than her father dying of malaria which is pretty typical. so i promised a house call the next time she was sick, and i prayed with her and her family- for safety and freedom from these nightmares, and for protection and peace.
today i got called.
i knew it! i thought. only 2 days later!
she was sick- "collapsed" and was "unresponsive". so i told the mom if she would come get me, i would go with her to the house, but i really didn't want to go. i wanted to make a chocolate meringue pie and hang out with my mom. i wanted to organize closets and make systems. i so badly wished i was Jesus and could say "go and be healed" over the cell phone without leaving my porch- but i'm not and i doubt that he would have done that very much because first of all, he would have been smart enough to not give out his cell phone number! but today i wasn't called into pie making or sorting piles. and i'm so glad.
we walked about 3 miles to her house. i mean it was far, far. farther than i'd expected. we arrived to see the girl sitting calmly just outside her door. we went inside- i examined her fully, no temperature, no abnormalities, normal neuro exam, normal blood sugar. i told them she was healthy, that she needed to get up and eat and i called her pastor and asked if he could send someone for counseling and prayer. then i prayed with them again and i reassured them that she was physically fine, but clearly struggling in her spirit- that this would take time- and counseling and more visits- by me and others. that this would take a relationship to get better. i hugged them both and they walked me to the road, thanked me and handed me a bag with three avocados.
i wasn't expecting this. at. all.
i was expecting them to ask me for money- i was anticipating a "hysterical" girl - a lot of acting- i was expecting tears and begging for help. i was expecting this so much, that i hadn't brought a single cent with me. and instead, i got avocados.
i love avocados.
on the long walk home it was dusty and thankfully cloudy and i walked gratefully down the path beside the road. i was so happy to be in my life. that this unexpected visit had become my day. that i'd been given the gift of being wrong. i was so grateful that i had strong legs to walk home, and that i hadn't brought any money so i had to walk and could think and process. i was so grateful for the opportunity to be doing house calls again, to be able to reassure them she didn't have malaria, to be privileged to see their home, check their nets (which were hung improperly), and to be walking that dusty road in such a beautiful country, to have a home to go back to, and then to be given avocados.
"what is the word for avocado in lugandan?" i asked as i reached the road before saying goodbye.
"it's the same" they said, "avocado."
"of course it is."
i've written before about the constant need that surrounds us and the pendulum swing of my response. we are asked often and by all types of people, from neighbors to strangers, for money or food or assistance. we are told many stories of hardship and loss and desperation and hopelessness- that all demand a response- usually while looking into the eyes of the one experiencing the trouble. i vacillate between a broken and a hardened heart. there are times when i can't believe how blessed and lucky i am and how easy i've had it compared with most of the world and i cry right along with the person sitting on my porch and reach into my wallet and cupboard and pray with them and as i watch them walk away i hope that their story is true, that i haven't been taken advantage of - which is kind of absurd because even if their story is made up i still have way more then most of the people here (so can i even say 'taken advantage of''?)
other times i am really resentful of the requests, the assumptions that my white skin means money, as if i should fill in the gaps of history and make right all the wrongs.
and then sometimes i sit in the middle and try to be soft hearted, and think of the 30,000 foot view. i think about what will really make a difference- which is really why we are here- in a long and lasting way- which involves relationship and mentoring and living together in community and following up and not just sticking fingers into holes made by someone else- because we only have 10 fingers and there are just too many holes.
on sunday a friend of zoe's came over to talk with me. i have mixed feelings about this friend. my gut tells me that i like her- but i've been warned that she steals- that she's not trustworthy. she came this day to see me, not zoe, 'auntie- can i speak with you?'
she began to cry big tears about how sick her sister was- how they needed money- how her sister has low sugar. i'm embarrassed to say that the pendulum was stuck way over in 'annoyed by being asked' again. i didn't feel badly for her at all- i was angry that i was being called upon to give more hand outs. but i listened- gave her a large bag of food from our kitchen and told her as a doctor i'd be happy to see her sister. i wondered what she'd do with the food- she wasn't very happy or grateful.
the next day her mom and sister arrived at my doorstep with a pile of medical bills and reports. i greeted them, impressed that they'd come, and reviewed the material and listened. it was the typical story of many bouts of "malaria"- usually with no parasites seen on blood smear, versus "hysteria" aka- not a medical problem. i probed some more.
the girl is "visited in the night by a woman dressed in black who says she is going to kill her"- she fears all night and becomes sick with headaches- and "malaria". it started the year after her father died- (of malaria) she was first visited by snakes, now it's the woman in black. there was no family history of mental illness, and i couldn't illicit any obvious clinical depression, there were no loose associations, no manic behavior- and i wasn't convinced that this 'visitor' was an auditory/ visual hallucination, and not just a bad dream, or even, a spirit- because here, witchcraft is very real.
whatever was going on, i was pretty sure i was out of my league. that she needed a psychiatrist and a priest- not an internist- but turns out i needed to be both. on the medical side we discussed mosquito nets- and preventive measures to avoid getting malaria- and i gave her a net, nsaids and panadol and my cell phone number and suggested they call me next time she is sick. i questioned her about trauma, about abuse, or rape, but she denied anything other than her father dying of malaria which is pretty typical. so i promised a house call the next time she was sick, and i prayed with her and her family- for safety and freedom from these nightmares, and for protection and peace.
today i got called.
i knew it! i thought. only 2 days later!
she was sick- "collapsed" and was "unresponsive". so i told the mom if she would come get me, i would go with her to the house, but i really didn't want to go. i wanted to make a chocolate meringue pie and hang out with my mom. i wanted to organize closets and make systems. i so badly wished i was Jesus and could say "go and be healed" over the cell phone without leaving my porch- but i'm not and i doubt that he would have done that very much because first of all, he would have been smart enough to not give out his cell phone number! but today i wasn't called into pie making or sorting piles. and i'm so glad.
we walked about 3 miles to her house. i mean it was far, far. farther than i'd expected. we arrived to see the girl sitting calmly just outside her door. we went inside- i examined her fully, no temperature, no abnormalities, normal neuro exam, normal blood sugar. i told them she was healthy, that she needed to get up and eat and i called her pastor and asked if he could send someone for counseling and prayer. then i prayed with them again and i reassured them that she was physically fine, but clearly struggling in her spirit- that this would take time- and counseling and more visits- by me and others. that this would take a relationship to get better. i hugged them both and they walked me to the road, thanked me and handed me a bag with three avocados.
i wasn't expecting this. at. all.
i was expecting them to ask me for money- i was anticipating a "hysterical" girl - a lot of acting- i was expecting tears and begging for help. i was expecting this so much, that i hadn't brought a single cent with me. and instead, i got avocados.
i love avocados.
on the long walk home it was dusty and thankfully cloudy and i walked gratefully down the path beside the road. i was so happy to be in my life. that this unexpected visit had become my day. that i'd been given the gift of being wrong. i was so grateful that i had strong legs to walk home, and that i hadn't brought any money so i had to walk and could think and process. i was so grateful for the opportunity to be doing house calls again, to be able to reassure them she didn't have malaria, to be privileged to see their home, check their nets (which were hung improperly), and to be walking that dusty road in such a beautiful country, to have a home to go back to, and then to be given avocados.
"what is the word for avocado in lugandan?" i asked as i reached the road before saying goodbye.
"it's the same" they said, "avocado."
"of course it is."
1 comment:
What a lovely story. I keep forgetting how wonderful it feels to really make a connection, to help someone in need. I've had several reminders this week, while being on call for Hospice, of instances where an unwelcome phone call turned into a warm experience.
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