Dear Beloved,
I can hardly believe another week has past. This morning, I woke to cool air on my face, and the realization that I was pulling my sleeping bag up tightly around my neck. At last, cool weather, I smiled to myself, rolled over, and slipped back into sleep. This week has been seemingly uneventful, and yet pivotal at the same time. It began with a long awaited break through. I have truly loved this place and these people, but up until this past week, I didn't feel like I had truly given my heart to them. I hadn't claimed them as my own, I hadn't given my heart completely, and often found myself counting the days until India. I was broken, wondering if I had lost my heart for this amazing part of the world. And then, it happened... in a single moment, it happened. We had gone into a part of our neighborhood most of us were a bit hesitant to go to. Since last time of our girls got groped, and one of our men got hit by a motor bike. But we felt like we were supposed to go back in, and we did. We started out talking to this beautiful woman who is currently mothering eight orphans, and pregnant with her first baby. We talked to her about danger signs in pregnancy, nutrition, and about the eye infections some of the children had. We then moved on, walking rather aimlessly, searching for people to talk to. She seemingly came out of nowhere, I'm not even sure how it happened, but one minute we were walking down this narrow street, the next moment we were sitting in chairs talking to this beautiful women whose name in English is "mother of Mohammad". She was not pregnant, nor did she have any health ailments we could help her with. So why were we there? The conversation progressed, and before we knew it her brother and another man were sitting with us, inviting us to come eat fish with them. We kindly declined, as we already had plans for dinner, and they proceeded to ask again, as is custom here. A joke was made, the conversation continued, everyone began to laugh all around me, Muslims, Christians, men, women, old, and young, laughing. Everything around me seemed to fade as I focused in on these beautiful dark, weathered faces. Then, the wind began to blow, the leaves above us began to tremble, then slowly fall. I sat back, somewhat lost in this beautiful picture. Leaves falling gently on laughing faces sharing a moment that would change a life forever. Such different pasts, such different futures, but for one moment, one brief, beautiful moment, we were all the same. It was then that they became mine. It was in that moment I realized there was no where else on earth I would rather be than on that chair, with those people, laughing. The walk home was different that day. I didn't look down towards the ground, nor was I leery of every passing little boy. I was now looking for more tiny little dirty hands to shake, more veiled women to great. Even the air wasn't as potent as usual. This place had transformed.

The week went on, we went to a Coptic Convent to teach health care workers about danger signs in pregnancy. I got to teach on anemia. It was amazing. I love teaching, especially health care workers, who are so eager to learn. It's beautiful. What a gift to share what you've been given. It was quite a journey to get there, but well worth it. A micro bus that felt like a sardine can, a jammed packed metro train, and a truck bed filled with 17 people. PTL.
We spent a lot of time this week at the Mother Teresa orphanage in our neighborhood. It's heartbreaking, and somewhat over whelming to walk into a room filled with babies, all crying, or screaming, or laughing, or jabbering, but I've really enjoyed our time there. Each day we've gotten there just at dinner time, and it's nice to be able to help the sisters get all the little loves fed. Needless to say, I've fallen in love with the babies, and the sisters. One is from India, the other from Italy. It hasn't been good for my dream of "sisterhood". They are so amazing, doing a job so large they have no other option than to trust Him for strength. I admire, and honor them. I only dream of being so willing and humble. To Him must the glory be given. Amen.
We went back to the clinic for Sudanese Refugees. I really love it there. It's amazing to be able to do antenatal checks on your own patients. Wild, but amazing. I feel so incompetent, and yet, so capable. It's strange, I love being forced to rise up to a challenge. Forced to practice things I know I know, but am scared to practice. It was even more amazing to see one of my patients from the clinic come into the hospital we were volunteering at in labour! We got to be with her through out the whole thing, sadly we missed the actual delivery, but it was incredible to stand by her rubbing her back, her belly, holding her hand... labouring woman are so beautiful, sweat, groans, attitudes and all. There's nothing else like it in the world. And I've made a very important decision... I've decided that I think Sudanese babies are the most beautiful babies ever. There were two other women in the room along with the labouring mother. All Sudanese. They shared with us the need in Sudan, and told us we should go there next time. My heart lept.
I saw King Tut's tomb today, along with thousands of other things dating back thousands of years. It was incredible.
Please think of this place, of these people. Remember them in your pr.ayers, and thoughts. It is a beautiful place, these are beautiful people, but there is still much pain, much poverty, much emptiness, much hopelessness. As anywhere in the world. It simply needs Love. At the end of the day, we all do.
Bless you,
B

Pictures... Sunsets, friends, mothers, home.








Quoting the doctor we watched perform the two Cesearan Sections- "...they are such Godly people. Afterwards the doctor said, 'You have to pray, because even the simplest things can be complcated without God and the most complicated things can be simple with God.'"

These narrow streets are not line with trees, but with men smoking sheesha, bickering, laughing. The sun does not set over the sea, but over the pyramids and masques. I have found that my love for this place grows deeper with time. And possibly experience. I found myself broken this week, as I thought about our King, and how He dwells with the sick, the hungry, the weary, the lost. He is a good King.

This week we prayed we would find the house of the woman who gave birth last week. Some girls felt like they were to go down this street, turn right here, go left there, they tramped through ankle deep rubbish, past bunking bulls, busy Arabs. Finally, an old woman approached them, beckoning them to enter a certain house. Knowing you never turn down an elderly Arab woman, they followed, only to find the woman we helped labour and deliver last week. He is good. The next day I returned with them, just to find a different elderly Arab woman leading us to the same house. I recognized this woman though, as the mother of another woman that delivered that day. This one by C-section. Amazingly, she lived in the same building as the woman who birthed naturally. They are married to brothers. He is good. We visited both woman, and got to teach on breast feeding, post pardom depression... He is good.

We spent the rest of the week at a Sudanese Refugee camp, doing antenatal checks, and teachings on Nutrition. The first day I worked along side the doctor, who gave me quite a bit of freedom; leaving me, at one point, for a long time to care for the patients on my own. I felt a bit like I was heading up stream without a paddle, or even a stick to guide me, but at the end of the day, I found a confidence in my skills that I lacked before. The next day was the same, I was teamed up with a staff member who did the paper work, while I took the blood pressure, weight, checked for anemia, oedema, measured fundal height, palpated to see the position of the baby, and checked the fetal heart rate. It was a busy day, as soon as you were finished with one patient, another would peek her beautiful dark face through the door, followed by her colorfully adorned, thin, pregnant body.
Sudanese women are utterly breathtaking. Ages 17-35, scared, broken, happy, hopeful. I saw my first female circumsision. It was all I could do not to weep. I don't understand. Many spoke of "falling" knowing their story would not sufice. One woman we saw "fell" the week before and was having contractions, delivering a baby that had died days before. She told herself it was the baby moving. I pra.y for her healing. I looked at charts and charts of still borns and babies dying at 2-3 months old. I was broken. These women wear a strong exterior, but there hearts bear the scars of poverty, war, pain and injustice. It is now I must rememeber, He is good. Despite the hustle and bustle of the clinic, at one point during the day I realized what exactly I was doing. I was in the Middle East, doing antenatal check ups on Sudanese refugees. A place I've dreamed of for years, doing something I've long to for years, with a people group I've fought for for years. For a moment I was paralyzed, overtaken my the goodness of my King. His faithfulness, His mercy. A dream made real by a beautiful King.

2 Peter 1:3-11
We love because He is worthy. We live because He is life. We hope because there is more. We serve because He loves all, and calls all worthy of love. Even the undeserving. Even they, deserve to be loved. Even a wretch like me, deserves love. That is why I love, that is why I love, and that is why I believe in such a King, and pledge my allegiance to this beautiful Kingdom. Blessings.
Bessma

These are two of the three babies I saw delivered last week.

Hello Beloved,
I have no idea how I will be able to express my elation in this update. As I left the shopping center last week after doing emails, talking to my mom on instant message, reading about California fall, my family, my new nieces, one still in utero, my beautiful friends, I was caught up in a world very different from the one I find my self in now. As I walked out of the coffee shop to get dinner, I found the food court swarmed with people all shapes and sizes rushing to get food after sun down. Ram.adan is this month; a month long holiday where they fast during the day then feast after sun down. I could hardly order my food with out being tackled, by middle aged women, elderly, and men of all ages. I just stood there in bewilderment. Then, survival of the fittest kicked in, and I held my rightful place in line. Politeness does not exist in the queues here. I got my shishtawook, in a take away parcel, and we were on our way. With water and food in hand, myself and four others went in search of a taxi. We were bombarded with little street boys, grabbing at my food and water. Then at my backside, and the chests of two girls with me. It was overwhelming to come from one world to another. A friend tried to distract them with conversation while the rest of us piled in a taxi. The boys responded with some phrase we didn't understand. The taxi driver, however, understood. He immediately got out went to the boys, yelled, "Ibe!" Which means "shame", then took two of the boys by the back of the neck, and smashed their heads together. One boy staggered while the other fell to the ground crying, blood pouring from some orifice on his face. I couldn't think, before I knew it the taxi driver was driving away before we could even get our door shut. A lump rose in my throat as I replayed what had just happened. "He was defending our honour. That's why he did it. That's all he's probably ever known to do. That doesn't make it right... he was defending our honour..." I went to bed with a stomach ache that night. These worlds are shockingly different.

I worked a lot in the community again this week; a lot of family visits. One of the women we had been checking up on went in early for her Cesarean section and we were shocked to see the baby when we arrived for her antenatal visit. We got to do a lot of teaching that day, about breast feeding, nutrition, worms, hygiene, natural family planning. It was really amazing. I love the neighborhood we've been blessed to make our home. The smell is, at times, more than anyone person can bear, the water is often off just when you think you've never been so dirty in your life. I love that just when you think you've come to the end of your rope, you realize it's actually a lot longer than you've expected it to be. And every morning you awake to find you've been strengthened, and renewed.

Yesterday, everything, the last three years of my life, made sense. I was able to go to a hospital here in my community and be a part of two C- sections, a mass removal from a breast, and a labour and delivery. We found ourselves in a theater (operating room) with heaps of other nurses, and doctors all preparing themselves and the woman for surgery. It was somewhat chaotic with everyone going every which way, trying desperately not to get in the way. Then, as if to calm the storm the main doctor turned to us and said, "Let us pra.y." Immediately all movement in the room ceased, everyone turned to face Jeru.salem and we began to p.ray. The whole time my mind raced, my eyes moistened, "I am more than honoured to be here, I am bles.sed..." After the pra.yer was over, They began. They cut, and cut, and cut, I watched, pra.ying with all my heart that I'd be able to continue to handle it. It was amazing to see the things we've been studying for the last four months come to life. They reached the uterus, the waters broke, then the violent procedure of stretching the incision enough to get the baby out, my knees weaken a bit recalling the memory. Then, out comes the head, then, A BABY! I was in awe. We were in suspense for a few minutes, as the baby didn't respond, and resuscitation was needed. Their methods were not as we had learned, and I was somewhat horrified thinking that perhaps they were less effective as well. Eventually the baby let out a little cry, and with more and more persistence, pink crept into his face, and belly. Thank you Je.sus. The next one was just as intense during the surgery, but this little girl cried immediately. They were both beautiful. Just as we had pra.yed that morning, after all the surgeries, a woman came in labouring. She was only at 3 cms at 12:30, so we all had some time. The lady went home to get some things, we went out to get some falafels, six pita sandwiches for one pound. Amazing. We returned at 2 to find her with an oxytocin drip, artificially ruptured membranes, and at 5 cm. The doctors obviously wanted this baby out. So we waited with her as her contractions progressed, monitoring them, her blood pressure, pulse, and the fetal heart rate. It was incredible to be with a labouring woman. There's so much energy in the room, when you are doing something she likes, you feel like the most useful person in the world. But when nothing you do comforts her you feel utterly useless. Because of the oxytocin drip, and the fact that her relatives turned it up... (sweet Je.sus) she was at 10 cm at just past 5 o'clock. Off to the theater again. By 5:40 we had a beautiful baby boy. I watched as the after birth came, and then the doctor walked me through the whole thing. "We rotate the membranes here... very carefully... now we stitch up the episiotomy... start from above the wound, see, watch closely..." I laughed to myself, as I watched this procedure done. Who would have ever thought I could ever end up in the Middle East, as a midwife, fully in love with the life I've been given.

He is so good. It's Him that has changed me. It's Him that has made me capable. It's Him that has shown me a love like I've never known. He's fulfilled me. He's blessed me. He's stirred me to right wrong, to love and to bless others. He is peace. He is joy. He is breath. He is fullness of life. He is hope. He is love. When everything around you fades away, it is He that remains. I think about my last week, and I am undone.
May you find yourselves in the same position. How could you not be, staring in the face of a beautiful G.od.
Ble.ssings,
Bessma

Hello Loved Ones.
Where do I begin? How do I condense my last two weeks into an email that people will take time to read and be blessed by? For starters, I would just like to say that I love this place. It's beauty cannot be described by words in an email. We are staying in one of the highest places in the city, and from my window, all I can see is this ancient city for kilometers and kilometers. There are mosques everywhere you turn, everything is made out of stone, making the whole city appear to be painted tan. Everything is covered in dust, including leaves of trees, cars that have been parked too long, and my feet, which I don't think have been clean since I arrived. The people are so hospitable, so beautiful. We have been going out into our little community for the last week, a very impoverished area which I could describe in great detail but can't because of security, but know it's a shocking, yet beautiful area. The streets are narrow, the brick structures are high, and would crowd you if you let them. There is rubbish everywhere you turn, dead rats every few feet, and live ones you have to watch you step for. There are little boys riding donkeys, trucks and cars, and donkey-towed carts, cats, dogs, goats, sheep, men shouting at you every few steps. "Welcome!" Or things I'm thankful I don't quite understand. It can be quite overwhelming if you allow it to get to you; sometimes funny, sometimes degrading. Women are covered head to toe, and we stick out like soar thumbs, even though we wear long skirts, long sleeves, and sometimes head coverings. We are not allowed to interact with any men, I don't think I've ingnored more people in my life. I've found it a challenge to ignore, but wear a look on my face that speaks to them of "love" and "value". It's an oppressive culture, it's an unjust culture, but it's also a beautiful one. I wish everyone could see the other side of it. Not just what we see on the news, or what we hear. These people really are a beautiful people. Kind, generous, welcoming.
We've been getting to know our neighbors during the last week, practicing our Arabic, which I've grown to love, and have learned a lot of. We've met a lot of pregnant women already, and women that have just had babies. We've palpated bellies, taken blood pressures, pra.yed for women, children, homes and families, taught on anemia, child spacing, birth control, nutrition, danger signs in pregnancy... We've even taught on such basic things like burping your baby after breast feeding, or proper hygeine that they just don't know about. It's really been amazing. We visited an orpanage the other day and saw just a whole room full of cribs. Some with crying babies, some with sleeping babies, some with hungry babies, laughing babies... It was amazing to just go in, hold them, speak value over them, ble.ssings over them, destinies over them. They are such beautiful little babies.
We've been having meetings after meetings with different places around the city, hospitals, refugee camps, places in need... I'm excited for things to start coming together, and hopefully get to start seeing some births. It was funny, our last few weeks in Perth we spent preparing to come, packing, talking, planning, then we traveled, got settled in, took a few days to read the whole b.ible out loud, and by the beginning of this week when we started lectures again, I had almost forgotten what I was doing. Then we studied "obstucted labour", and I got so excited. It was like I remembered my love for this adventure all over again. It's very exciting to be getting into the practical part.
Pr.ay for me, we were playing a fun game the other night with the team, and me being me, fell down in the midst of excitment and hurt my arm. Mish mushkala... no problem, but it's still really swollen a few days later and I can't really bend it or straighten it all that well. It's definatly not broken, but no promise that it's not cracked, and definatly sprained, or jamed, or something. Either way, I can't catch, or hold babies, and that's a problem. So be pr.aying for a speedy recovery. As well as for my friend Yoho who during our time in the community yesterday got hit by a motor bike, and gashed his leg pretty bad. It was a purposful hit, so be pra.yinng that he is not discouraged, or that he does not loose heart. Mostly our days have gone well, and we've been very welcomed. However, there are those who challenge us, and remind us that we do have to be careful, and wise.
I hope you are finding yourselves healthy, and happy. I love you all, think of you often, and pr.ay for your well being. That you are knowing the beauty, the love, and the fufullment of our beautiful G.od. He is such a good G.od. He really is.
Bessma (That is my Arabic name. "Bess" means "enough" or "finish", so I have to introduce myself as "Bessma" which means "smile". And everyone always asks me if I am Arabic. "Shwia shwia" I say. "A little". :)

GOODBYE PERTH... one of our last nights in Australia, celebrating, saying goodbye, sadness, love, sharing memories. Here are some pictures from that beautiful night. I love the friendships I made there. They are ones that I will carry close to my heart for many years to come.