To Break the Law or Not

The man stared into my eyes.  "If we do this, we could get thrown in jail."  In my peripheral vision I saw the teenage girl with us nodding in affirmation. "Do you still want to?"  He asked.  I took a deep breath and decided.

But before we get to my decision, let me set the stage a bit.  Saturday I was able to visit with several Syrian refugees and enjoyed the time ever so much.  The first home we entered had a three-week-old baby I got to cuddle - which in itself makes for a good day!

A Jordanian girl, Egyptian man, and this American girl (no, this is not the start of a joke ;) went out with basic hygiene and food gifts (etc) for families who have been displaced by the war in Syria.  We basically just listened as they shared their stories, hugged them as they cried with worry about unaccounted-for family members, and talked and prayed with them.  

A little girl in one home was sick, so her mother asked me to assess her and offer medical advice, which I of course was happy to do.

As the Egyptian man gave the first address to our cab driver, the Jordanian girl looked over at me and said, "Wow, they live in a disaster area!  Even before the war started that was a bad part of town."  We all looked at each other and shrugged. We'll go wherever they have need.  Plus we had a man with us - so culturally appropriate!  We had large, heavy packages for each house.  The woman at the first house told us the next was only a few blocks away and assured us there was no need to call a taxi.

Ha!  I guess SHE hadn't done her math to figure out that 40 degrees Celsius is over 100 degrees Farenheit!.  Just sayin'.

The poor man got the brunt of it.  Gallantly heaving the bulky box over his shoulder, he led us girls to the other house in the hot, hot, heat.  On block number three I saw sweat pouring down his back and the girl’s face and basic nursing training stepped in.  “Hey guys, I have a couple water bottles in my purse. Why don’t we stop and drink so we don’t get heat exhaustion or dehydrated or anything of that ilk?”

That’s when it happened.  The looks of surprise.  Both of them, staring at me.

The man stared into my eyes, “If we do this, we could get thrown in jail.”  In my peripheral vision I saw the teenage girl with us nodding in affirmation.  Why on earth would we get thrown in jail? I queried.  “Because it’s illegal to eat or drink on the street during Ramadan,” came the answer.  I knew I wasn’t supposed to eat or drink in front of people during Ramadan for politeness’ sake, but I didn’t know it could make me a prisoner!

“Do you still want to?”  The question came.  I took a deep breath and decided.  

Decided to let my national partners choose. :D  I’ve found that, in general, the locals know best!  After contemplating the options, they decided that if we stepped away from the road and surreptitiously sipped we’d probably be fine.

I went with it.  I drank water on the side of the road during Ramadan.  And I didn’t get thrown into prison. Neither, by the way, did either of my companions drop into the dusty street with heat exhaustion or dehydration.  I’d say that was a win/win (shout out for Heather).

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I have a PRAISE!  Thank you for praying for A*.  Her mother, sister, and baby got to come visit her today!

Another PRAISE is my continued health and safety.  I know a lot of you are praying for those and please know that I do not take it for granted!

Continue to PRAY that I grow in my Arabic speaking – 46 words and, Lord willing, counting! :)

PRAY for N*, my patient with an abscess that must be drained daily.  It's close to her spine so it needs to heal well and not get deeper!  I almost put up a pic, but then remembered some friends who would kill me  for doing so (okay, they’d probably just puke, but still not a great outcome). So for those of you who (like me!) didn’t know about TB abscesses, here’s a link to find out more: http://manual-of-surgery.com/content/0038-Tuberculous-Abscess.html

Beloved, let us love one another, for love is of God; and everyone who loves is born of God and knows God.  He who does not love does not know God, for God is love.  In this the love of God was manifested toward us, that God has sent His only begotten Son into the world, that we might live through Him.  In this is love, not that we loved God, but that He loved us and sent His Son to be the propitiation for our sin.  Beloved, if God so loved us, we also ought to love one another.  I John 4:7-11

Break my Heart, Why Don't Ya?!

[I've yet to take pics of the hospital, so y'all get one of the northern Jordan landscape for now! :P]

Tonight I headed over to the “football” field (soccer) where some patients and hospital staff were playing.  I got there late, but a handful of people were still hanging out enjoying the cool, evening breeze (a relative statement in the Middle East ;).

I joined the conversation until my 26 words of Arabic ran out, and everyone went back inside except for a 27-year-old woman named A*.  A* is one of the inpatients in the hospital with multi-drug resistant tuberculosis (TB).  TB causes people to lose a lot of weight, so this lady only weighs about 90 pounds.  Holding her thin arms out in front of her she tells me, “I used to be so beautiful.”  I assure her that, while I would like it if she gained some weight, she is absolutely lovely.  Turning her face toward me, she looks at me with her dark brown eyes in near-disbelief.  “Shukran, thank you,” she says, her expression of disbelief turning into a smile.

A* is an intelligent woman.  She knows four languages and can read and write fluently in Arabic (an impressive feat in itself), and is teaching herself to read books in English.  She knows how to dance. “I can do tango, salsa, and Arabian dancing.”  I am thinking a TB ward dance party might be in our future. *grin*

A* found out she had TB in her home country of Saudi Arabia. When the disease was discovered, she began treatment right away, wanting to get better for her infant son and husband of two years.  After months of medication and not getting better, it was found that her type of TB is resistant to several drugs and was referred to our hospital.

“Many people think just poor or dirty people get TB,” A* told me, “but my family is rich and we have everything we need.  Now I just need my health so I can get back to my beautiful husband and baby.  I miss them, Jamelh.”  

Jamelh (Jah-mee-lah) is the Arabic name my patients gave me.  It means ‘beautiful’ and ‘one who makes me happy when she comes to speak with me.’ 

A* has been here two weeks and her 16-month-old son has started walking.  He hears her voice and won’t let go of the phone.  “My husband says my baby has such sad eyes because I am away,” A* says, almost crying, “but I have to stay for maybe four months before I can be better enough to go back to him.”  

I ask her how she copes with being sick and away from her family and she mentions  praying to Allah, having hope that she will get well, reading books to pass the time, and spending time on a Galaxy phone that she gets calls from her family and pictures of her baby on. :P

We chat till it gets close to being too dark for ladies to be out by themselves and then begin to say our goodbyes till the morrow.  Reaching down for my keys, I am surprised when she flings her arms around me, kisses me on the cheek, and cries, “I love you, Jamelh, habibti!”  

I have a new friend.  What a blessing.

I am very much enjoying the many cultures of this hospital.  The patients are from Jordan, Syria, Saudi Arabia, Yemen, Palestine, and more.  The staff from Jordan, Holland, Brazil, Egypt, South Korea, Canada, and more!  So fun!

You guys can be praying for me as I strive to obtain a workable knowledge of Arabic in the next couple weeks (ha – easy, right?).  In August, a couple of the nursing staff are leaving so they will be short-staffed and I will be functioning as a full-fledged nurse…in a language I don’t know.  I would love to be a competent nurse and especially be able to have good conversations with my patients, so please lift up my brain capacity for Arabic (why, Babel, why?! :P)

Pray for A*, that the God of hope would fill her with all joy and peace in believing that she may abound in hope by the power of the Holy Spirit (Romans 15:13). 

Pray that the staff and patients of the hospital would worship and adore the One True God and give Him the glory that He so richly deserves (Revelation 4:11).

The Days are Being all Fleeting and Whatnot

I really need to blog; the stories are piling up. Just need the time and gumption to write! Bedtime with the Bedouins, Stargazing with Bombs, Grace to be Shared, Watermelon Love, My New Home, Bite in the Night...it's been quite a fun adventure thus far. *grin*

Here Safely!

And here's a pic of me looking down on the monastery at Petra to prove it!  Will write more about the journey to get to the Middle East later, but just wanted to let you all know that I am here safely. :)