I'm sitting here right now at almost ten o'clock at night beside a woman with her 4-year-old grandaughter on her lap who's having difficulty breathing. They came as an emergency this evening and it only took one quick listen to the wheezing in her lungs to stop my murmuring. R 60. No doubt about it, it's a nebulizer case. So the treatment's just finished and we're waiting half an hour to decide what happens next. Definite improvement. Don't always get results this quickly. Respirations down to 36 and wheezing is noticeably improved.
I'm back down in the valley at the school for the weekend. Been a busy day. Started out this morning by the arrival of a very pregnant woman. Her vision got blurred this morning and then she went blind, she had a severe headache and was vomiting as well as obvious edema. Needless to say, there was reason to be concerned and Mama and Daddy took her into the OB clinic in the refugee camp about an hours drive away. Turns out she was pregnant with twins and had severe toxemia. They got back just in time to help transport the students back to the school from church and then we're informed that one of our big girls from the school, SawSawPaw, is sick and having breathing difficulty. So I grab a stethoscope and bottle of Sabumol and run down to the girls dormitory. I find a very miserable girl, moaning and crying on the floor surrounded by various students and staff attempting to help. I do the best I can with vital signs and medecine and decide that this is urgent. In short order we're on our way to the Metta ER. After an eons wait (I actually was so exhausted that I found myself a bench and had a nice nap!) we're informed that there is no problem. All it is is hyperventilation from mental problems (yeah, right! - I don't like to doubt the doctors, but I'm not sure... but then I guess I'm biased toward our students and naturally don't like to accept that kind of diagnoses. We'll see...) We no sooner return and I find my comfy mat as I left it and get reasorbed in my book than there is the arrival of a new patient. This time a little girl. I take one look at her and her mother's placid expressions and silently groan. Why is it that people can't only come for EMERGENCIES on the weekends!?! So much for a day rest and relaxation off of my mountain.:) But we are soon informed that our little girl has a fishbone stuck in her throat and that she has vomited blood. I attempt to peer down her throat with the aid of an otoscope and tongue depressor, but to no avail! I clearly am not equiped for this. What continues to astonish me is our little patient's composure. No hystericalness, whimpering, gasping, or throat clutching as we had with our last little patient who had a chicken bone lodged in her throat. I'm truly starting to suspect that it must have been dislodged already and has only scratched her throat. But, no, they assure me that it's there alright and that this particular liitle girl has a reputation for being quite unflappable. So off we are to the Metta ER yet again. The doctor promptly fishes the bone out and in short order we're on our way back again when home base contacts us and advises that we hurry as SawSawPaw's having problems again. Back down to the school I go. She's better this time, in comparison. Moaning and still kind of out of it with dizziness and a headache, but having no breathing difficulty. Kept an eye on her and spent some enjoyable time with the girls in the dorm. She eventually fell asleep and I hope will be better by morning.
So here I am doing the 2nd neb treatment on our new little girl. Here is the sweetest grandmother you could ever hope to meet. She tells me thank-you so much for learning Karen and hearing that makes every painful moment of the on-going learning process worth it. 2nd treatment's finished and, much to my relief, the wheezing's all but gone. They leave with many smiles and thank-you's. It's one of those moments where I know that Im right where I'm supposed to be. I'm not focused on yesterday and I don't know about tomorrow, but right here, right now, at this very moment, I know with a certainty that I am right in the place where I was made to be for this moment in time. And it's the bestest feeling in the world!
On that warm and fuzzy note, it's 11:10(+). Goodnight, folks!
Saturday, February 27, 2010
Monday, February 22, 2010
You Know You're a Missionary When...
You know you're a missionary when...
-> It dosen't even occur to you to use a fork when eating.
-> You can (when the need arises), without blinking an eye, change clothes in front of a roomful of people (there's a technique involved...)
-> You're told you're fat, sometimes several times a day.
-> You can't understand why people need chairs.
-> You call your grandma "Pee-Pee" and your grandpa "Poo-Poo." (No joke! Sometimes the language is hilarious.)
-> Even the married men you know wear skirts.
-> Instead of wondering why people are staring at you, you think it's strange if they don't.
-> You've cheerfully accepted the presence of miscelanious little critters in your food as an excellent source of protein (bye-bye vegetarianism!)
-> You don't know how to sleep with a pillow.
-> Your new name is "White Person" and somehow everywhere you go everybody always already knows it.
-> You've acquired an awesome tan and yet still people marvel at your whiteness.
-> You've been spied at through holes in the restroom walls.
-> Gas for the motorbike's a necessity and toilet paper a luxury.
-> You dream of subs, seven-layers, and snowstorms.
-> Politeness and generosity are a way of life.
-> On good days, you own the equivalant to $15 and you're very possibly one of the richest people you know.
-> You consider yourself to be alright financially 'til you're below $3.
-> You've ever prayed for the loss of one of your senses - smell!
-> You know what it's like to be deaf, dumb, and illiterate.
-> You're current roomates are leggy little beings, dark and fuzzy, about the size of your palm, with the potential of increasing exponentially.
-> You can judge the time before light by how many roosters are crowing.
-> You know that the poorest people are some of the happiest in the world.
-> You've almost forgotten what you look like as you don't have a mirror.
-> If by chance you see another white person, you forget your own ethnical status and join the natives in their cry of, "Look! Look! A WHITE person!" And catch yourself making similar snyde comments as to his tanned whiteness, disporportionate nose, and ungainly size.
-> You've ever come across road workers reclining horizontally across the road while taking a siesta and rather than moving they let you drive around them.
-> Your heartrate does not accelerate even though that vehicle just missed you by a foot.
-> You've decided that a sense of humor is a lifeskill.
"By their fruits ye shall know them..."
-> It dosen't even occur to you to use a fork when eating.
-> You can (when the need arises), without blinking an eye, change clothes in front of a roomful of people (there's a technique involved...)
-> You're told you're fat, sometimes several times a day.
-> You can't understand why people need chairs.
-> You call your grandma "Pee-Pee" and your grandpa "Poo-Poo." (No joke! Sometimes the language is hilarious.)
-> Even the married men you know wear skirts.
-> Instead of wondering why people are staring at you, you think it's strange if they don't.
-> You've cheerfully accepted the presence of miscelanious little critters in your food as an excellent source of protein (bye-bye vegetarianism!)
-> You don't know how to sleep with a pillow.
-> Your new name is "White Person" and somehow everywhere you go everybody always already knows it.
-> You've acquired an awesome tan and yet still people marvel at your whiteness.
-> You've been spied at through holes in the restroom walls.
-> Gas for the motorbike's a necessity and toilet paper a luxury.
-> You dream of subs, seven-layers, and snowstorms.
-> Politeness and generosity are a way of life.
-> On good days, you own the equivalant to $15 and you're very possibly one of the richest people you know.
-> You consider yourself to be alright financially 'til you're below $3.
-> You've ever prayed for the loss of one of your senses - smell!
-> You know what it's like to be deaf, dumb, and illiterate.
-> You're current roomates are leggy little beings, dark and fuzzy, about the size of your palm, with the potential of increasing exponentially.
-> You can judge the time before light by how many roosters are crowing.
-> You know that the poorest people are some of the happiest in the world.
-> You've almost forgotten what you look like as you don't have a mirror.
-> If by chance you see another white person, you forget your own ethnical status and join the natives in their cry of, "Look! Look! A WHITE person!" And catch yourself making similar snyde comments as to his tanned whiteness, disporportionate nose, and ungainly size.
-> You've ever come across road workers reclining horizontally across the road while taking a siesta and rather than moving they let you drive around them.
-> Your heartrate does not accelerate even though that vehicle just missed you by a foot.
-> You've decided that a sense of humor is a lifeskill.
"By their fruits ye shall know them..."
Wednesday, February 10, 2010
Website
My family just got their website up as of today. Paul Williams put it together for them and we're thrilled with it!!! Just wanted to put a link to it on here.
It's: www.karenoutreach.org
It's: www.karenoutreach.org
Does Anyone Care?
This was written by my Mom recently. I asked to put it up on my blog as it speaks better than anything I can write.
Does Anyone Care?
They are huddling in the torrential rains with no shelter, exposed to missing limbs and lost lives from jungles full of landmines.....as little children. They are seeing sights of torture and killing, losing father and mother…..as innocent children. This people, persecuted for over 60 years, they are fleeing, running, hungry, sick, dying…..children.
This is the story of the Karen children—each story is different, yet the same.
Does anyone care?
Along the border of Thailand and Burma, there are towering mountains rising above the Moei River, seemingly endless jungles, and small Karen villages dotted here and there. Along the river are leaf-roofed bamboo huts in small settlements—inhabited by peaceable Karen refugees. There are relatively few Thai residents in these parts of Thailand.
This is in the province of Tak, Tha Song Yang district. Last June (2009), sounds of shelling, machine guns, and landmine explosions reverberated from mountain to mountain. Within a couple of weeks, the SPDC (Burmese Army), together with the DKBA, succeeded in causing up to 5,000 displaced villagers to seek refuge in the only safe place they knew of—Thailand. This is the history of the Karen for the past 60 years—running for their lives; running in fear from soldiers who are instructed (not merely allowed) to rape, kill, and steal; pursued by a government who said ten years ago, “In ten years you will only find a Karen in a museum.”
At this time last year, there was a small school in Burma just across the river from Mae Salit Luang, Thailand. It provided a home and an education for about 120 boarding students. These were children who otherwise would have no hope for a brighter future. They came from varied backgrounds. Some came from caring parents who were unable to provide either food for the empty stomachs of their growing bodies, nor education for their developing brains. Others came who had been abandoned, orphaned, or rescued from an abusive situation. But they all had one thing in common—their young lives had already encountered suffering, hardship, and privation. And they all were in danger of being deceived into seeking a “brighter future” in the cement jungles of Bangkok.
This school is now in ruins. An American family received the children as they evacuated across the river and provided a safe place for the students and their teachers on Thai soil. Recently property was purchased for a home and vocational learning center for these children. The children love this place. It is a lime orchard with mango, banana, lychee, papaya, and other fruit trees. A clear, flowing creek meanders through the property, with pools where the children love to swim. The work/study program has already resulted in beautiful vegetable gardens that the teachers and children are growing together. Although the structures are very primitive, measures are being taken to improve that situation. But for children who are used to seeking shelter in the jungle, at best living in a leaf-roofed bamboo hut, and living with no latrines or sanitation, this is a good place.
Does anyone care?
The children are still being pursued—not by the SPDC, but by misguided NGO and government policy-makers and soldiers under orders. They are still living in fear—fear of the unknown, fear of being sent back into a land mined war zone, fear of having no chance for an education and having to spend the rest of their youth herding buffalo, fear of foraging for food and firewood in heavily land mined jungles, fear of dying from this area’s killer—hemorrhagic cerebral malaria—because of no access to medicine or hospital.
The Thai government is planning to send these children back into Burma; we are told it might be tomorrow, maybe next week. Children from another school, who evacuated at the same time, have already been shipped back, several times returning to what they know as a place of safety and promise, only to be shipped back again.
Our children at this school are family—many of them have attended this school for its 7 years of operation—studying, playing, singing, working, and praying together. The evacuation was the third time the school has had to relocate due to persecution. Must it happen again?
Does ANYONE care?
Where are the children’s rights that we talk about, where are the children’s advocates, who see what the children’s desires are?
How can anyone send children back to landmines, hunger, and fear, especially after they have tasted something else?
Where are the voices, voices to appeal to the Thai government on behalf of little children?
This letter is written as I am keeping a watchful eye on a small girl. She is sick, and we are treating her, with the love and care, medicines and treatment, needed. We are ready at any moment, should she turn for the worse, to take her to the hospital. As I am writing, I am very aware of the fact that many of our students would have died in Burma through this last year had they been sent back to where medical care is unavailable or too expensive for these destitute people.
Does anyone care about the children?
We have a foundation we are under. We have a place where the children want to be, and where they feel safe. We feed them and care for them, educating them to be honest and industrious. We want them to learn about the love of God, and receive academic learning. We are not asking for help in caring for these children. We are not asking the Thai government to cover any expenses. By the grace of God, this last year we paid for all their hospital bills, and for hundreds of villagers’ medical needs and surgeries. We provided rice, food, baby formula, and medicines for the destitute and hungry in addition to the school. A skilled nurse was available to care for the children when sick. We are not asking for a handout. We are only asking to be able to keep the children in a safe, loving environment, where they can enjoy the labor of their hands in field and garden. This is a place where they are safe from child trafficking and the lure of the cities, and free to play together in the orchard and jungle without fear from enemies and landmines.
It has been suggested that we send the children to the refugee camp. Crowded, smoky, dusty, and dirty as it is, maybe many of them would end up somewhere else unmentionable…
Does anyone care? Are there voices somewhere for these children?
Do YOU care?
If you care, what will you DO?
As a postscript to the above: The "crisis" is over for now. The Thai soldiers have not come due to all the protests, but please keep the situation in your prayers. -Maria
Does Anyone Care?
They are huddling in the torrential rains with no shelter, exposed to missing limbs and lost lives from jungles full of landmines.....as little children. They are seeing sights of torture and killing, losing father and mother…..as innocent children. This people, persecuted for over 60 years, they are fleeing, running, hungry, sick, dying…..children.
This is the story of the Karen children—each story is different, yet the same.
Does anyone care?
Along the border of Thailand and Burma, there are towering mountains rising above the Moei River, seemingly endless jungles, and small Karen villages dotted here and there. Along the river are leaf-roofed bamboo huts in small settlements—inhabited by peaceable Karen refugees. There are relatively few Thai residents in these parts of Thailand.
This is in the province of Tak, Tha Song Yang district. Last June (2009), sounds of shelling, machine guns, and landmine explosions reverberated from mountain to mountain. Within a couple of weeks, the SPDC (Burmese Army), together with the DKBA, succeeded in causing up to 5,000 displaced villagers to seek refuge in the only safe place they knew of—Thailand. This is the history of the Karen for the past 60 years—running for their lives; running in fear from soldiers who are instructed (not merely allowed) to rape, kill, and steal; pursued by a government who said ten years ago, “In ten years you will only find a Karen in a museum.”
At this time last year, there was a small school in Burma just across the river from Mae Salit Luang, Thailand. It provided a home and an education for about 120 boarding students. These were children who otherwise would have no hope for a brighter future. They came from varied backgrounds. Some came from caring parents who were unable to provide either food for the empty stomachs of their growing bodies, nor education for their developing brains. Others came who had been abandoned, orphaned, or rescued from an abusive situation. But they all had one thing in common—their young lives had already encountered suffering, hardship, and privation. And they all were in danger of being deceived into seeking a “brighter future” in the cement jungles of Bangkok.
This school is now in ruins. An American family received the children as they evacuated across the river and provided a safe place for the students and their teachers on Thai soil. Recently property was purchased for a home and vocational learning center for these children. The children love this place. It is a lime orchard with mango, banana, lychee, papaya, and other fruit trees. A clear, flowing creek meanders through the property, with pools where the children love to swim. The work/study program has already resulted in beautiful vegetable gardens that the teachers and children are growing together. Although the structures are very primitive, measures are being taken to improve that situation. But for children who are used to seeking shelter in the jungle, at best living in a leaf-roofed bamboo hut, and living with no latrines or sanitation, this is a good place.
Does anyone care?
The children are still being pursued—not by the SPDC, but by misguided NGO and government policy-makers and soldiers under orders. They are still living in fear—fear of the unknown, fear of being sent back into a land mined war zone, fear of having no chance for an education and having to spend the rest of their youth herding buffalo, fear of foraging for food and firewood in heavily land mined jungles, fear of dying from this area’s killer—hemorrhagic cerebral malaria—because of no access to medicine or hospital.
The Thai government is planning to send these children back into Burma; we are told it might be tomorrow, maybe next week. Children from another school, who evacuated at the same time, have already been shipped back, several times returning to what they know as a place of safety and promise, only to be shipped back again.
Our children at this school are family—many of them have attended this school for its 7 years of operation—studying, playing, singing, working, and praying together. The evacuation was the third time the school has had to relocate due to persecution. Must it happen again?
Does ANYONE care?
Where are the children’s rights that we talk about, where are the children’s advocates, who see what the children’s desires are?
How can anyone send children back to landmines, hunger, and fear, especially after they have tasted something else?
Where are the voices, voices to appeal to the Thai government on behalf of little children?
This letter is written as I am keeping a watchful eye on a small girl. She is sick, and we are treating her, with the love and care, medicines and treatment, needed. We are ready at any moment, should she turn for the worse, to take her to the hospital. As I am writing, I am very aware of the fact that many of our students would have died in Burma through this last year had they been sent back to where medical care is unavailable or too expensive for these destitute people.
Does anyone care about the children?
We have a foundation we are under. We have a place where the children want to be, and where they feel safe. We feed them and care for them, educating them to be honest and industrious. We want them to learn about the love of God, and receive academic learning. We are not asking for help in caring for these children. We are not asking the Thai government to cover any expenses. By the grace of God, this last year we paid for all their hospital bills, and for hundreds of villagers’ medical needs and surgeries. We provided rice, food, baby formula, and medicines for the destitute and hungry in addition to the school. A skilled nurse was available to care for the children when sick. We are not asking for a handout. We are only asking to be able to keep the children in a safe, loving environment, where they can enjoy the labor of their hands in field and garden. This is a place where they are safe from child trafficking and the lure of the cities, and free to play together in the orchard and jungle without fear from enemies and landmines.
It has been suggested that we send the children to the refugee camp. Crowded, smoky, dusty, and dirty as it is, maybe many of them would end up somewhere else unmentionable…
Does anyone care? Are there voices somewhere for these children?
Do YOU care?
If you care, what will you DO?
As a postscript to the above: The "crisis" is over for now. The Thai soldiers have not come due to all the protests, but please keep the situation in your prayers. -Maria
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