I found it quite fitting that a couple days before the first Easter I had the opportunity to give blood for a lady who had just lost her baby. She had already been given six units of blood and was still in critical condition. I went to the hospital with a hopeful heart. I even speculated that when I wrote about Easter I could say I had given blood to save another. My thoughts were all rather pompous and silly. I walked with a skip to the room where they tested my blood type and made sure it would match — it did. I sat drinking a Coke so that afterwards I wouldn’t be lightheaded. It was a tiny little white room, and the door stood open as they inserted the needle into my vein. It didn’t hurt like I thought it would. Curious eyes looked in to see what the white girl was doing. I could see my blood draining into the bag and the bag filling up much faster than I expected. It ballooned out and the worker poked it to make sure it was really full.
She removed the long needle and rushed the bag out. I walked home in the dark and looked at the stars, imagining my blood mixing with someone else’s.

We ate pizza that night and talked about this patient who had now had been given eight units of blood and was still in critical condition. Surely my blood would make all the difference. We talked about other patients who had died because they didn’t get enough blood — mainly women whose families were not willing to give their own.

The next morning my cousin Nathan came in the door and was eating a quick piece of toast before rushing off to the hospital for a baby’s delivery. He’d given blood to the lady too and so I knew he would update me. I was washing the dishes and looking at the sun shining on the colorful gathering at the bird bath. Nathan said suddenly, “Oh, Amy, I was going to tell you that that lady died last night. Sorry.”

This is not uncommon. Many die here. I have heard many cry for the dead. Nathan sometimes would tell me of a patient and the next day when I asked, he’d say, “We lost him.”

The people here wait to the last possible moment to come. They wait till it is really and truly critical. Women come to Dr. Sharon after they have been in labor for days or after the baby has died and is rotting inside them. We pray for the patients at night sometimes. My dad sighed, “I have a patient that is refusing care. He just wants to die.”  But he has not died. He finally accepted care and he is living. He’s an Islamic man whose house was burned down by another tribe and soon after he was in a car accident and his hip broke and then it became infected. His family has nothing except the clothes on their backs. No wonder he just wanted to die.

And now he is smiling. He is not only smiling because his leg is getting better after several surgeries (paid through our benevolence fund) but because he has learned that Jesus died and rose for him. He has seen the love of Christ in the workers and in the surgeons’ hands. Many people die here and the missionaries give blood to try and save them literally and figuratively. But many people find life here — life in a new and marvelous way.

My mom and I sometimes go and pray with patients. My mom went yesterday and prayed with three women who had finally come to be treated because they had heard that there was a woman doctor. Women will deal with all kinds of pain here because it is inappropriate for them to say anything to a man about their
anatomy. But because there is a woman here they will come and be treated. These women had beautiful faces that glowed with the joy of being cured. One leaped from her bed and bowed down on the ground as my mom prayed for them. They cried out their joy to the Lord. God is doing great things here

POWER AND WATER PROBLEMS

Life can be tough here sometimes. It is discouraging to see patients die because there isn’t the right equipment, medications, or care that we could get in the States. This adds up with other little things. Last week we consistently did not have city power. We have a generator, but it can only power either the hospital or the houses on the compound — not both. Obviously the hospital is the one that is powered. Our water pump broke this week, and so we donkeys have carried water jugs to the hospital, and we have filled buckets at a local well and carried them back to our houses. My mom said, “Praise the Lord that we have power.” Our power went out last night and the generator battery failed so we had nothing. But don’t worry, we have now fixed the generator and the city power is running more often. But we keep candles on hand, and we will survive.

I have found that I can wash my hair (shampoo and conditioner) and take a sponge bath with only two quarts of water. After I recycle the water over and over through my hair and on my body, I put it in the toilet to use it to flush. Life goes on. My mom said it is a game to see what we can live without. We never complain about these little difficulties. Usually we only whine, “Oh, I really would like a cookie!”  But we can't use the oven with the generator. Or my
Dad consistently says, “I could really use a Snickers bar.” We compete to be the first after dinner to laughingly ask, “What is for dessert?” Oh well, it is a forced diet that is probably good for us. Don’t worry, tonight we have planned to have a nice rhubarb-strawberry crisp, and we are all three excited. We’ll
probably dine according to my Dad’s motto: “Eat dessert first because the Lord may come back during dinner.”

And I hope to live my life in the same way. Life is enjoyable here. I leave soon and part of me feels as though it is torn in half. I have found a new way of life and new enjoyments and new friends, and it will be difficult to leave. I have had many adventures.
Praise the Lord! Jesus is Risen!

“A FOR AMY!”
My four-year-old student yells this whenever he sees me. He has recently learned the alphabet and thinks he is ingenious. I think he is too.
Amy Anderson

PRAYER UPDATE:
1. Benevolence donations are needed. We are doing about $1,200 a month for poor patients.
2. The well pump to be repaired.
3. We need a general surgeon to help cover for Dr. Gray when he goes to the States for his second child's birth in August.