It's early monday morning...February 3 and I'm still in Malawi. A week ago, I was scheduled to start work in Mbale, Uganda today. However, I have no flight plans to leave Malawi. Just one goal in the coming days - RECOVER. As I down a couple pain pills and sit down to write this, I can't help but to smile. If there's one major lesson that I've learned during my time in Malawi - life is unpredictable. I've learned to relax. I've felt peace here - in the most daunting situations. An incredible lesson and one that will always be useful - in every season of this fragile life.
On wednesday morning, I felt pain in the abdomen but it wasn't alarming. I had only been back in the country for 4 days and the iron stomach that took me 16 months to develop was still acclimated to U.S. cuisine (read pork BBQ and mom's brownie trifle). So I carried on with my work day at CURE and attempted to ignore it. I had no appetite and at 1pm, I needed to sit down and take a long breather. The pain increased. At 3pm, I fell across an exam table in an empty consultation room and tried to sleep. The pain increased. At 5pm, I was checked out by a CURE doctor and rushed over to a private hospital across town with a proper diagnosis - appendicitis. The pain increased.
After an exam in the emergency room and an ultrasound, I was scheduled for surgery that night. I couldn't wait. Every minute sucked. I wasn't sedated until I reached the operating theater. I had to wait on a gurney as an emergency C-Section moved ahead of me. I fell asleep with total peace of mind and a massive pain in my side.
Fast forward a few days and I will spare you the recovery details. I will never complain if admitted to a hospital in the states again - I can tell you that much for free. I couldn't be more thankful for the events over the last few days. The people that surrounded me. The people that prayed for me. All over the world. The emails, FB messages, viber texts and calls. The chocolate. The home visits. Everyone makes me feel so loved. Too loved. I don't deserve the amazing people that God has put all around me. But I couldn't be more grateful.
The timing - my boss, Jenny was in town. She made sure that I got checked out properly at CURE. Being a dude, I like to downplay pain and pretend I'm stronger than I am. She rode with me to the hospital. She filled out all admission forms in the ER - I was doubled over in a fetal position with my eyes closed. She called my parents and handed the phone to me before I was wheeled into the operating theater. She paced the halls while I was in surgery. She slept on a couple footstools that she pushed together beside my bed. I was set to be on a plane bound for Uganda 48 hours after being admitted to the hospital. The thought of the pain happening during transit and transition to Uganda is scary. Thanks be to God.
The peace - there was no freakout, no panic. Just concern to stop the pain. I didn't worry about the possibilities. I've been told that the surgeon that performed the appendectomy doesn't have the best success rate even though it's a relatively simple procedure. I was told post-surgery but I'm not sure that it would have shook me if I had known beforehand. It's crazy. I was praying and my thoughts went to my parents & family for their comfort. I didn't want them to worry. I'm not saying this to sound bold or courageous - because it definitely wasn't me. Worry and anxiety have consumed most of my existence. That's why this experience and the last year are so encouraging to me. If God used this to show me that he's changing me, I couldn't be more ok with it. In fact, I love it. It's part of my story. Not like I can forget with a 6 inch scar - right?
For anyone reading this that can relate to peace during a hurricane season in their life, I hope you're encouraged. If I believe in a sovereign and all-powerful God of the Universe, I have to believe that my life is no exception to his control. Reading through the short book of James right now and it's instantly applicable and completely appropriate.
ESV translation
James 4:14 yet you do not know what tomorrow will bring. What is your life? For you are a mist that appears for a little time and then vanishes.
KJ translation
Whereas ye know not what shall be on the morrow. For what is your life? It is even a vapour, that appeareth for a little time, and then vanisheth away.
Mark, thanks for sharing your personal thoughts on last week's ordeal. As you said, this event was not something any of us wanted or welcomed, but God already knew you wouldn't begin your Uganda mission today. He has reasons for allowing you to go through this which we can't understand right now. But to comfort you with His profound peace in a difficult and dangerous situation is unexplainable to human finite minds. As your parents, we felt like we grew spiritually last week, but we didn't like going through "the fire." We wanted to be there with you, but we knew you were in His hands and in His will, and for that, we were extremely grateful. Now, please take things slow and easy for a while. Uganda will wait. Love, Mom and Dad
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