This week, as I dealt with the thoughts of home, and sacrifice, I felt such a grace resting on me. I have spoken of my adoration of mornings before, but I don’t think I’ll ever be able to quite communicate how much they refresh me. Some nights, as I fall asleep, I grow excited to wake up, however many hours later, and enjoy the morning. There is such a peace in the mornings here. No matter how hard the day before may have been, no matter how the city may have treated you, you awake to find it still sleeping, and are able to fall in love with it all over again. It’s like a toddler who spilled your coffee, on your favorite shirt, kicked you in the head during a tantrum, told the neighbor a family secret, and broke the phone all in one day, then he goes to bed, and looks so peaceful. The next morning you awake to find him just barely stirring with rumpled hair and pajamas, sleepy eyes, and snuggly. Every memory of frustration and annoyance is gone, as you look at him and fall in love all over again. My mornings are a bit like that. I wake to find most of this city still sleeping, and I can hardly hold in how much I love it. I love the women and children carrying the day’s freshly baked bread on their heads, back to the house. I love the little kids heading off to school, and the smells of fresh bread, and falafel. I love watching the dogs begin to stir, as the cats begin to wind down. I love avoiding buckets of water being thrown into the streets, and shop keepers readying their businesses for the day. The butchers are up and chop, chop, chopping away, and men are sitting in “hole in the wall” cafes drinking Turkish coffee and eating breakfast… the city begins to awake, and I feel as I watch, I just may have not only the strength, but the passion to take on another day. Even when bottoms are grabbed, and babies die; even when elderly pass on, and babies grow sick; even when mothers loose their children or women get beaten… life continues, and somehow there is still beauty.

We had the opportunity to share with a group of nursing students about the beauty nursing. Even though I am not a “nurse”, I shared about my wonderful job back home, working with elderly. Most of these students have not volunteered themselves to this field, but have been volunteered by their parents. It was shocking for them to hear the three of us share about how you can truly love your job, and change the world through you work. It was a blessing to remember my beautiful residents, to be able to share with others how God used my job to mold me, grow me, and how I was able to be the hands and feet of Jes.us.

I had another go at injections this week. I successfully gave two. It was on my third, that I ran into a little trouble. In order to open the glass bottle housing the medicine, you have to pop the top off. This is risky business since the whole thing is glass. They are designed to break in a certain place; however, this one did not. As I pushed down to pop the glass lid off, it broke, and sliced my finger. I quickly, (and rather impressively sneakily), covered my bloody hand, told my friend to finish the injection and walked to the bathroom. I did this all with out the poor patient knowing… that is until she came into the bathroom later to take a urine sample, and found me holding my hand over my heart humming quietly to myself. “No stitches Lo.rd, not here. Not here…” After a time of praying and applying pressure, I removed the tissues to find it had stopped bleeding, and the cut was sticking together. Hum-dil-alah. I went down a doctor who cleaned it up and bandaged it. No stitches. Hum-dil-alah. I went back up to the antenatal clinic. My patient was still there. I took her to the bed to palpate her. There was something different about her, not just that she was Somalian. She didn’t smile, didn’t interact at all, she just lay there, almost numb. She’s 37 weeks, the baby is almost here. We went back to the desk to fill out the rest of her paper work. We look at her personal info… two children, no husband; this pregnancy was a result of rape. Her husband must have been killed. She has no family. Suddenly my throbbing finger didn’t hurt as much. Father, give her peace.


Yesterday we helped the sick and elderly in our community get to church. It was really amazing. I really love elderly. We also got to sing some songs and dance with the children. It was a wonderful morning, even though the service was hours and hours of Arabic, a language I have yet to master. The afternoon was spent at the Mother Theresa house. First we sang and danced for the elderly, and then we went up to the babies. I have grown to deeply love this one baby girl, about nine months old, and possible has Down syndrome. As we sang, she laid her sweet little head on my shoulder and sucked on two of her little fingers, just listening to the music. I could hardly contain my love for her. She is, and will always be such a gift to this world.


As we were going home, we stopped at this tiny little shop run by a beautiful round Musl.im woman. A few weeks ago she didn’t speak English, but yesterday she glowed as she asked us if we would like to sit on some crates outside her shop and have a cup of Nescafe. We accepted her offer, sat down, and enjoyed one of the best “broken English” conversations I’ve ever had, along with THE best cup of Nescafe I’ve ever had. She confessed she had learned to speak English, so she could talk to us. “I want to speak you very much..”
It was all in all a delightful day. I could hardly remember missing Thanksgiving, or any of the other heartbreaking events brought about by daily life in this country. For, life continues, and somehow there is still beauty.

May you find beauty today, even if you have to search until night fall, it will be worth it

I feel as though when I write updates, I often conjure up the most romantic thoughts, or situations brought about my week. I think about things that touched me in one way or another, about things that I feel like would touch you. In fact one of my favorite things about “going out” is writing home to tell about my experiences. I feel as though if I tell a pretty enough story, it will stir us up to truly love and serve one another. If my pictures are enough to break hearts, then maybe just maybe we will try to right all of the wrong in the world. I love to write to awaken. And I thank you for those of you who respond, for those of you who allow my stories to touch you, for those who think about what I say, about what God is doing here.


But I fear I may only paint one part of the picture, and for that I apologize. It is true, this life I live is full of beauty, excitement, wonder, and love, but there is a cost. There is pain in the offering.
I have missed my grandma and uncle pass away, I miss my first nieces being born, I miss special birthdays, baby showers, holidays, weddings, pregnant friends, engagements… things that come only once in a lifetime. And here I am a world away. I’ve come to grow rather anxious of Saturdays, my appointed day for emails. Who will have written? Will it be good news? Will it be bad news? Who else is getting married? When will the wedding be? Will I miss it? Who has died? Who is sick? Who is pregnant? Who had their baby? How is she doing? How is he doing? How is this going? How is that going? What am I missing? Who am I missing? I imagine I wouldn’t find it so hard if I had never been blessed with such an amazing family, and community of friends; people whom I truly care about their well-being. I want to be able to support them by smiling proudly as they walk down the isle. I want to hold them as they morn the loss of their best friend. I want to rub their pregnant bellies and play silly baby shower games. I want to watch my nieces grow; I want to watch families being born. I want to spend time with my grandma. I want to go to Cameron and Anna’s wedding. I want to see my sister-in-law’s beautiful belly. I want to watch my brother become a father for the first time. I want to see Skylana as a mommy. I want to see Lindsey blossom as a wife.
It always takes me a while to enter back into “Middle-East-mind” after a Saturday full of emails. When I do, I realize that it is a worthy cause. I’m so thankful to be here. Others have paid a far greater cost than I. “Where there are no oxen, the manger is clean, but abundant crops come by the strength of the ox.” Proverbs 14:4. This is how the world changes; because of sacrifice. I suppose its sacrifice that has made me who I am today, it’s the reason I leave home. I go to tell the world about the beautiful sacrifice that has changed the course of the entire world, the sacrifice that paved the way to true and abundant life. It’s that sacrifice that brings hope to the hopeless, joy to those who morn, peace to the restless, bread to the hungry, water to the thirsty, strength to the weary. It’s the sacrifice of my king on the cross that makes my seemingly small sacrifices so worth my while. What’s more is that He sees them as well. And He catches each tear I shed when thinking of what I have given up in coming here. And at the end of the day, I am always blessed. Because it’s His character that out ways circumstance. He is good. He is loving. He is trustworthy, He is hope. He is peace. He is life. He is Love.
Isaiah 58:6-12



Aunt Evie, you will be missed dearly by many. And forever I will carry your song in my heart. “Bessie, Bessie, I’m a little messy. I’ve been painting my wagon green. I had no brush, so I used my hand. I’m the messiest mess you’ve ever seen.”
What a beautiful day it must have been, when you went into the arms of our Savior. I look forward to the day when I will meet you there. In a land when there will be no more death, no more tears, and nor more pain. In a land where restoration is evident, and Love conquers death. Revelation 21:1-7

He is worthy. To Him must the glory be given.
With blood and sweat, you made a choice to give you’re life, and with blood and sweat I give you mine. “Whoever is generous to the poor lends to the Lor.d, and he will repay him for his deed.” Proverbs 19:17
With these small, humble, sacrifices I repay you Je.sus for the price you paid for my joy, my peace, my freedom, my life. With every smile I give, every hug I give, every breath I breathe, may I bless you. That my life would be you’re reward. You are worthy.
James 1:9

We often spend our late afternoons at the Mother Theresa orphanage in our neighborhood. Up until this week, I had only spent time with the babies and infants. When I was asked to visit the handicap children, my heart leapt. I walked into this room, its walls lined with disabled children. Some were crying, some were laughing, and some were speaking as best they could. I walked around this small room, examining each child, holding them, talking to them, and watching them smile. I picked up a beautiful little girl, around three years old. Despite her age, she didn’t have much muscle control, and was unable to hold her head up. I held her carefully as I would a baby, and we went outside for some fresh air. As we were out there, I just looked at her beautiful, little face for a long while. I thought to myself, “This is where my King would be. This is where my King would come.” Then I heard Him say, “I am here. I’ve come through you.” I am amazed, as I realize the depth of what it means to be the hands and feet of the Father to the broken, to the orphan, to the widow… I am amazed, and I am honored.

This week we were able to do some postnatal home visits with the midwife from the Sudanese refugee clinic. It is really a privilege to enter not only the homes of these beautiful people, but by entering in their homes, I feel as though I’ve entered into their lives. Without a desk between us, I feel as though the boundaries are broken; she is in her own element, her guards are lowered if not down completely, and her house, her family can tell a story that language barriers cannot hinder. And of course, Sudanese babies are beautiful.


We were able to do the TB clinic again this week with the Sudanese. It’s been really interesting to learn a little about this disease, and about the treatment. Our time in the community was really good as well this week. It’s amazing to realize that we’ve actually built some beautiful friendships in the last 8 weeks. It’s wild to see the babies I’ve seen delivered, grow and change. I’ve grown to really treasure the community I live in here.


I’ve had such a good opportunity working at the Sudanese refugee antenatal clinic. I’ve really learned so much. It’s been so wonderful to be entrusted with my own patients week after week. All of the women need two doses of Anti-Tetanus during pregnancy, and if they’ve already had it in a previous pregnancy, depending on the circumstance, they may need a booster. I’ve been observing for the last few weeks, those who are capable of giving injections, give them. Then on Thursday, the time had finally come for me to give one. My stomach churned with in me, my hands grew moist and shaky. I nervously opened my needle package, I drew up the medicine, I flicked out the bubbles, and I began to pray with all my heart. For an intramuscular injection, you need to make sure you do not have the needle in a vein. If you accidentally entered a vein, and pushed the medicine into the circulatory system they could have heart failure and die. So you can only imagine my extreme nervousness. I had a staff member coaching me the whole time… which only slightly calmed my nerves… she walked me through the steps. Draw the medicine, find the muscle, use a swab of cotton soaked in alcohol to clean the area, find a land mark so you know where you’ve cleaned, let it dry… pinch a good bit of the muscle, and STAB! I held the needle back, like a dart, my arm descended toward this poor innocent victim’s arm, I approach the skin, I hesitate, I stab, and I’m in.

“Now what?” I think, as my shaky hands attempt to hold the needle steady. “Draw the needle back, make sure you have not hit a vein,” I respond to myself. I draw back… no blood. “But what if I haven’t drawn back enough to see the blood, and I’m in a vein?” “Ahhh… the women is wincing, its okay, inject the medicine. Slowly, slowly, shoot that’s not slowly, I said slowly… There you go, it’s almost gone, it’s almost over. Hum-dil-alah (thank God.).” I pull the needle from her arm, and quickly put cotton over the puncture. "She's not collapsing with heart failure, that's a good sign." (Sigh.) “Mesh, mesh. Helos. Mafish-mooshkala. Mesh, (It’s okay, it’s okay, it’s finished. No problem. It’s okay,)” I say out loud, half to the woman, half to myself. I laugh with her, pretending I’ve done hundreds of injections. I proceed with my next patient, still shaking, almost afraid to look at her papers to see if she needs an injection as well. She doesn’t. Hum-dil-alah

Oh how I have grown to love this beautiful place. How I will miss it. I can hardly believe I only have 3 more weeks here. Then, back to India. It will be my third time there. As much as I hate to leave this place, I am anxious to return to India. It's funny how no matter where you are, you always dream of what's next. "The grass is always greener on the other side." But you'll never quite reach the other side. When I am home, I dream of far and distant lands, when I am in far and distant lands, I dream of home. I imagine it's because we're always dreaming of "home".
"For we know that if the tent, which is our earthly home, is destroyed, we have a building from G.od, a house not made with hands, eternal in the heavens. For in this tent we groan, longing to put on our heavenly dwelling, if indeed by putting it on we may not be found naked. For while we are still in this tent, we groan, being burdened--not that we would be unclothed, but that we would be further clothed, so that what is mortal may be swallowed up by life. He who has prepared us for this very thing is God, who has given us the Spirit as a guarantee. So we are always of good courage. We know that while we are at home in the body we are away from the Lord, for we walk by faith, not by sight. Yes, we are of good courage, and we would rather be away from the body and at home with the Lord. So whether we are at home or away, we make it our aim to please him." 2 Corinthians 5: 1-9


I pray you find yourself blessed this week. Just because you are not in India, or the Middle East, or China, or Africa, or Mexico, doesn't mean you can care for the sick, the poor, the broken. There are broken people all around us. In our work place, downtown, our friends and neighbors, our family. If we are always looking to the greener pasture on the other side, we will never be able to see the beauty of the wild flowers we are standing in now. Or the way the stream beside us bubbles. Or how the trees bend and sway in the breeze. Or how the newness of the morning brings refreshment. How the warmth of the sun brings joy. I imagine if we only gave a glance to the "other side", and spent the rest of the time discovering the beauty of our present surroundings, we'd find life much more enjoyable. "Next year will be better. Tomorrow is a new day. When I finish school... When I get married... When I have children... When I retire... When I get a good job... When I travel... When I get home..." Today is a gift. Let us live it like it is. Blessings.

I find that at the end of every week, I sit down with my computer, only to be overwhelmed by memories from my last seven days. How can I tell the countless amounts of stories, doing them justice, and still holding the sweet attention of the American mind? Bear with me as I do my best…

The week started with lectures, learning how to treat eclampsia. Heaps of different injections, IV’s, grams, hours, days, doses, numbers, fractions, lines, procedures, all needed to be recalled in a situation of life or death. Oh the sweet grace of G.od. The next two days were spent working with Sudanese Refugees, doing antenatal check ups and Tuberculosis checks. It was really interesting to learn about TB. We saw a 13 year old boy, who, before treatment had to be carried in by his father. He had extra pulmonary TB, where the bacteria are outside of the lungs. His spinal cord was affected, causing him to be extremely weak. It had been a few months of doing the treatment with the clinic, and he came in walking, and smiling. He was such a handsome young man. I was so thankful for his precious life, and for the miracle of medicine.

Wednesday we spent in our neighborhood, investing into some of the relationships we’ve been blessed to form here in the last seven weeks. One of the women we visited that day, some of our girls had met last month at the hospital after attempting suicide. We’ve been keeping up with her, trying to speak as much life as possible into her. But this visit was very different than the last few, as she joined this beautiful kingdom. He is good.
We went to lunch, and then visited some women we had also met last month during a rather dramatic family dispute. We spoke of forgiveness, and life, they as well joined the kingdom that day. There sincerity and hunger was inspiring and beautiful. I think the whole world was blessed that day, my heart still leaps when I remember it. None of these women were pregnant, or had newborns, but we simply knew them through working in the area. It's amazing how Love moves even the most unlikely of hearts.

Thursday we spent getting our visas for India, and at the pyramids. It was amazing. After years and years of dreaming of seeing these amazing rock structures, I finally saw them… and they were amazing. They sit right at the edge of the city, so you drive through all the hustle and bustle, then all of a sudden you’re just at the this distinct line of concrete and sand. You look up and see these massive rock pyramids, the dusty ground is littered with people from every country the earth has to offer, camels, horses, and tacky trinkets. It was strange to be a tourist for a day. Aside from seeing the pyramids, I rather disliked it. But I counted myself blessed, especially because I got to ride a camel. It was some time in India when I decided I didn’t like camels, but I gave this one a chance, and fell in love. To my surprise it was actually the horse I rode that I loathed. I had to come half way across the world to discover my deep fear of horses. I used to be in pony club, and I quote, “Horses are my life!” Now, thirteen years later, I’m galloping down the sand dunes of the pyramids, holding on for that dear life, hating every minute of it. It was such a comical scene, one I wish I could share with each and every one of you, my feet slipping out of the pathetic stirrups, my purse falling off an arm attached to a hand, with a white-knuckle-death-grip on the reigns and saddle. It was a sight to be hold. My mom and step-dad have five horses now, I think, maybe I'll conquer this fear when I get home. On something a little less terrifying than an Arabian stallion. Oh laughter, healing to the soul. My poor terrified soul.


It was a wonderful week, I hate to see it end, as they always do. My time in the Middle East is sadly, but surly drawing to a close. I've been going up to my roof lately, in the morning after my quite time The weather has cooled off, so the morning air is chilled and breezy. There is something so magical about mornings. As if the normal haze of life is cut through, and I can see clearly, even if just for a few hours. His mercy is renewed every morning. "On the wings of the morning, hope is rising." It's beautiful, you can see most of the city. I truly have fallen in love with this place. It's hard to make so many homes, just to leave them a few months later. But what a worthy cause. What a worthy Go.d. What a worthy nation. I am blessed. I am truly blessed.

I p.ray you are as well. I love you all so dearly. I remember you often in thought and pr.ayer. Blessings. He is so good.

Alas, another year older, another year has come and gone just as quickly. How does it happen? The years seem to pass much faster than they used to. It seems I was just, last week, home in California celebrating my 21st with friends and family. But no, there have been many trips, travels and happenings since then, and somehow, I've woken up to find they have taken up a whole year. It seems to go much faster living month by month. One month here, three months there, two months, two weeks, five weeks, three months… and so it continues. My 21st year ended in the Middle East, and my 22nd has picked up where the other left off. As I reflect on all the last year has held, all I've learned, all I have done, I am taken back, only left with thoughts of how amazing this God is. To Him must the glory be given.

This week was a wonderful week, I witnessed three more babies being brought into this beautiful word, IT RAINED (which doesn't happen this time of year) and I got to spend a very special day yesterday with 14 people whom I've grown to love very deeply. I shared my birthday with Hollie whose real birthday is on the 5th, and they surprisedus with a wonderful evening, one in which I couldn't have even dreamed up on my own. I knew only what they told the taxi driver, and the rest was a beautiful mystery that unfolded magnificently throughout the evening. It started in a beautiful park along the Nile River. I was escorted down the side walk, under a fence, to this grassy area free from the many people and distractions so common in this part of the world. I gasped as I saw a picnic set up, over looking the Nile; white sheets sprinkled with rose petals, surrounded by lit candles. They sat us down and we began to feast on yogurt, honey, pomegranates, muesli, pineapple, grapes, crackers, cheese, potato salad, green beans, and olives. It was perfect. After we were fully satisfied with our meal, we were presented with gifts. I opened mine to find a beautiful brown scarf. Then, the cake… Oh the cake. It was black forest ice cream cake, and I'm fairly sure heaven on earth. I thought I should explode once the night was through. Well, I only thought the night was through. We cleaned up, left the park, and I was ready to find a taxi to head home, thinking about what an amazing birthday I had just had, only to find that the night had only just begun, and the rest of it would be spent in a boat out on the Nile. I let out an excited scream, as thankfulness poured from my mouth. The rest of the night, as promised was spent sailing up and down the Nile, singing, laughing, dancing, being encouraged. It was more than I could have ever dreamed of. Simply amazing.

I think of who I once was, five or so years ago. I think of the changes that have occurred, the struggles, the blessings, the hope, the life, the lessons, the tests, the gifts… and I am undone. Who has known a love like this? Who has felt a hope like this? How do people live without Life? I, myself, five years ago would have laughed in the face of one who told me where I'd be now. A lost, hopeless, insecure, sad, directionless girl, with no thought of anyone but herself. He is a restorer of brokenness, a King giving beauty for ashes, the oil of gladness, direction to the lost, friendship to the lonely, food to the hungry, homes to the homeless, and love to the orphan. This is my God. This is my king. From a book I love deeply, Tales of the Kingdom-

"Once upon a time, there was a King who walked astride his world—here there, and everywhere. He became poor in order to be like the people he loved, and he lived among the outcasts in order to feel their pain."

This is the King who has changed me these last five years. And as the years continue, I find I only fall more and more desperately in love with this beautiful King. I commit my 22nd year to Him and to His beautiful kingdom. Only in Him will people truly be loved, will people truly belong. This is what I long for, this is who He is. Love, Life, Joy, Peace.

Whom have I but you my Lord, whom have I but you..