Vacation!
So our original plan of nine months of extended sabbatical went kaput, but we still decided we needed some extra time off this year. And it seemed all the chips were falling into place. Sarah was here and settled and proving herself to be an excellent doctor and committed missionary. We were into June and the work at the hospital seemed to be slowing down for rainy season, just as it did every year.
So June 11, we decided we were going on vacation. And we decided we were going on vacation the 13th, two days later! Who says you can’t be spontaneous when you’re a missionary doctor with four kids?! We emailed our amazing travel agent (insert gratuitous advertisement for Nathanael Martin at Butler Travel here), who purchased our tickets roughly 70 minutes later! So it was decided.
We took the slow bus up to N’Djamena and were off! We landed in DC on Thursday and found ourselves lost in the woods of northern Pennsylvania with backpacks on Sunday! We even drug my dad along! We had had just enough prep time for me to set up a three-man three- season tent, a three-man four-season tent, a two-man three-season tent, a double bivy sac, a single bivy sac and a hammock and tarp in dad’s backyard first.
We spent four days hiking the West Rim Trail of the ‘Grand Canyon of Pennsylvania’. It was beautiful and fun. Juniper (and occasionally Addison, since Juniper probably walked more than half of it!) rode on Danae’s back, Lyol and Zane carried some small packs, Dad carried a hefty load and I carried the rest.
The kids slept in a three-man tent, Dad had a two-man to himself (along with a sweet sleeping pad we gave him and then promptly stole for the rest of the summer) and Danae and I slept in one hammock. One. Hammock. Two people. Sleeping. Or trying.
You think you know somebody. But you don’t. Unless you’ve spent a few nights in a hammock with them, pretzeled up butt to butt, feet in face, squished together by love and the tension of deep hammock walls supporting a lot of suspended weight, showers nothing but a distant memory and a future you don’t dare to hope for. You know how some mattresses you feel it every time your significant other rolls over. I could feel it every time her heart had the gall to disturb me with its incessant beating. Every breath created an ocean swell of rocking. Every bodily function, and I mean EVERY bodily function, even those we like to pretend our beautiful wives don’t possess, was magnified and felt, rumbles, vibrations and all. Yeah, I can now say I know Danae. And not the old ‘Adam knew Eve’ way. This is deeper than that. We’ve shared a hammock. I hope you all get the chance to know your spouses this way. Because misery loves company.
Anyway, we had a hoot with campfires and roasting and setting up and taking down and seeing nature and walking and getting caught in diluvian downpours and popping blisters and hopping barefoot around campsites and having a great time in general. We may have only made around 22 miles in four days, with a couple of 7-milers in the middle, but we had fun and got tired, and that was the point.
After all that fun, we went to Great Wolf Lodge for Zane’s birthday, which he LOVED, on the way to Asheville, NC, to stay with some ‘Chadian’ friends, Mason and Kim. After a couple nights with Mason and Kim, they had the poor enough judgement to trust us with their 14-year- old daughter Emmie during a week in the woods. So we took Emmie, as well as my sister and her three boys, into the Blue Ridge Mountains of North Carolina.
We started the Art Loeb Trail up at the Blue Ridge Parkway and started downhill (I ain’t no dummy). But we didn’t start until late afternoon, so we dropped a car at the bottom, drove back up to the top and then Charity and the older boys headed off down into the woods while I parked, grabbed a backpack and ran back. We all hustled down after Danae and the youngers. Once at the bottom, we drove back up to the top and camped just a hundred yards or so into the woods off the parkway.
The next day was a drive back down to where we had stopped the previous day. Charity and I dropped everybody off and went to park a car halfway to the end, but then discovered everything was gated off. Our party of nine had taken off without any supplies, thinking it was just a short and simple day hike. But now we would need to overnight! So Charity and I had to repack EVERYTHING in the cars to fit all tents, stoves, food, bear canisters, warm overnight clothes, EVERYTHING into two backpacks. We dropped a car at the very end and skedaddled back to the trailhead. Charity hoisted a massive backpack onto her shoulders, I clipped a second backpack onto the back of my normal backpack and we took off, three backpacks between the two of us and our party with about a two-hour head start! We went double time and panted hard the whole way, up and over mountains with way-too-heavy packs on. We did eventually catch up, but it just about did us in. My sister is tough. The rest of the day should have been a lot easier, since we split up our weight a teensy bit with the others, but it wasn’t, thanks to a bit too much exertion on the front end of the day. But we had fun and everybody limped out to the vans the next evening.
After a third night in the woods, we spent Sunday as a bit of an off day. Our family plus Emmie hiked a couple miles up by the Blue Ridge Parkway, then we met the group, along with dear friends Neeta and Jim and Shiloh, swam in the river and ate yummy pizza. We said our goodbyes to Charity and boys, as well as the Hillmans, then drove back up to the top of the Blue Ridge Parkway to begin our adventure down the other side. And what an adventure it was!
By the time we were actually ready to start walking, it was after 9pm and all kids were asleep and it was raining. But Danae and I are terrible parents, so we decided to wake them up and get over the first hill to the next place with trees where we could put our hammock. Well, the next hill was over 6000 feet, as was the next one, and as was the next one. And their names all ended with ‘Bald’. As in, no trees. So we hiked for hours in the pitch-black rain up and over several mountains, encountering dogs masquerading as deadly wolves. And the kids actually were awesome! We finally got over the last 6000-foot bald and into a grove of a few trees. I set up the tents and tarps and hammocks. (Well, Emmie is tough, so she set up her own hammock.) We collapsed exhausted from the blowing rain, the midnight hours, the slog over high mountains.
The next day was a beautiful day. We hiked for a bit, then unpacked everything in the sunshine to dry out. We took a detour to hike up another mountain, Shining Rock, in the Shining Rock Wilderness. We were just a couple weeks too early for wild blueberries. I’ll bet the bears were getting excited and licking their lips. We hiked on and then finally slept just a couple miles from the end.
Finally we concluded our six days and hiked out of the woods and into a Boy Scouts of America camp where Mason and Kim and Grace rescued us. And fourteen-year-old Emmie pretty much carried her own stuff the whole way! 30+ miles!
After our second backpacking trip, we rushed back up to DC for Fourth of July, which was pretty fun to watch the kids enjoy a concert and a gymnastics show and the FIREWORKS!
July 6-8 I flew out to Chicago to climb the highest point of the great state of Illinois, Charles Mount, with Krystian and his kids. And we did it without any supplemental oxygen!
Then the day after I landed back in DC, we drove back up to the West Rim Trail in Pennsylvania and hiked the final ten miles with the Trecartins. We knew Megan, although we didn’t know she could hike so far while 8.7 months pregnant! And we knew Russ, but this was our first time meeting Andrew. They seem perfect for Chad! And we’re very optimistic they will be here full time soon enough. Inshallah!
Back to DC from northern Pennsylvania, and then on to Oklahoma to surprise Danae’s parents at Oklahoma Campmeeting. (I got to drive all night to celebrate my birthday!) The kids had a blast there for a week, attending the activities and meetings, and hanging out with the grandparents and Aunt Janelle (and maybe even Uncle Bill, but he was a little busy). In the middle of the camp meeting week, Danae and I left one night to drive across Oklahoma, across Texas, into New Mexico, and then back into Texas near El Paso just before sunrise to hike up the highest point in Texas, Guadalupe Peak. It was surprisingly beautiful. Clear weather and could see all around. Danae ran up the thing like a mad woman. It was significantly harder than Charles Mound, being a few thousand feet up and about 4.25 miles each way. Danae was up the thing in a matter of a couple hours, but then we took about the same amount of time coming down. But then everything went wrong.
Driving back to Oklahoma Campmeeting through the town of Orla, Texas, we hit a giant pothole and blew out the tire. Noon. West Texas desert. Mid-July. About a hundred and way too many degrees out. Changed the tire pouring sweat.
Now there are some things you should know about Orla, Texas. First thing you should know: No matter what I say, you won’t be able to confirm or contradict, because ain’t nobody know nuthin’ ‘bout Orla. This is the place six-degrees-of-separation doesn’t exist. Second thing you should know: Everything I will tell you about Orla is 100% true. Orla ‘is believed to have two residents.’ I’m not making this up. This is on Wikipedia. And I met both residents.
Orla is literally an intersection where two roads cross in the middle of West Texas. That’s it. There’s a gas station at the intersection. And a... wait for it... tire shop. In the town with a pothole the size of... well, the size of Texas. No, not literally of course. Not literally the size of Texas. But literally that’s all that’s in town. The two residents are the man and woman running the tire shop. After we blew the tire, it wasn’t two minutes before a tow truck was there asking if we needed help. (We didn’t! I can change a dadburn tire!) Yeah, that’s coincidence.
We slap on the spare doughnut and head off down the under-construction-road. (Under construction, just please don’t fix our pothole as it’s the town’s sole source of income!) We drive on to Odessa and stop at a tire shop. They finally get to it near the close of business. And they see it’s an aluminum rim and it’s bent and they can’t risk bending it back. I need a new rim.
Now apparently Dodge made like 14 different rims for their Grand Caravans this model year, and we found the extinct one! The Dodge in Odessa didn’t have it, nor Midland, nor... well, I’m getting ahead of myself. We figure Abilene is a big city, so we go there and get a hotel, instead of staying with my sister in Dallas as planned. Our hotel is literally next door to the Dodge dealer. At the open of business, we call and ask for the rim, which they obviously don’t have. I call every single Dodge dealer between Abilene and Arkansas. Nobody has it. The central database says there are two down near Houston, one in Fayetteville (although when I call they say they don’t really have it), one in Indianapolis and two in California. Six in the world! Oh wait, there’s one in the central warehouse in Dallas! Great! We start driving. But the warehouse in Dallas will only ship. They don’t let customers come and pick up there. Ok, I call a Dodge
dealer next door to the warehouse. Can they go pick it up for me? Yes? Great! They need me to pay for it first? No problem! My credit card is... What? It has to be check? You don’t take credit card? Is this still America? Ok, fine, hang on...
I call my sister at work. Hey, can you play hooky and go pay for a rim for me by check at the Dodge dealer? Yes? Great!
Wait, Mr Dodge Dealer? You’re saying it’s too late in the day and your order had to be in by 9am? Seriously? You’re like, right next to the warehouse? Not gonna work.
So I’m staring down the barrel of 700 miles on a donut. That’s not fun. So I call the nearby Dodge dealers for a spare donut in case this one blows. They don’t have any. I call the nearby tire dealers. They don’t have any either?!?!?! Seriously???
I call the biggest junk yard in central Texas in Fort Worth and they have one. I’ll take it! So now I have a spare spare tire. Yes, I’m that out of shape, but I’m not talking about my tummy. Anyway, we eventually make it back to Oklahoma camp meeting, forced to limp along at 55mph on 85mph roads!!! Oh, the pain!
The next day, my rim gets delivered from the Dallas warehouse to a dealer near camp meeting and I get set up. Finally. In time to drive the 24 hours back to DC.
We hung out in DC for a bit with my sister, we met up with more future (yay, Davenport!) and past (yay, Roberts!) missionaries, did some driving range, did some indoor skydiving, and then eventually went to the lake for a week with the whole family. It was our first week there without Mom, and it was a bit lonely, but we all still had fun.
Except, during our lake week, our staff in Chad decided to go on strike. We were always proud to say our hospital was the only one in the country that never went on strike, not even a pared down services in support of others’ strikes. We simply don’t do that. However, we had a few individuals make a power play, as somebody invariably does every time we go on vacation. It was so infuriating and discouraging. They needed a scapegoat, so they targeted one of our foreign volunteers, lodging old complaints and accusations against her we had already previously addressed and given proof showing their accusations were false. Regardless, they were determined this time. They rallied staff and showed their solidarity. In the end, only one of my nurses had the courage and integrity to come to work and treat patients. Others, those who had spent thirty years at the hospital, those who would go out and evangelize to tell of Jesus’ love, those who grew up a staff children and eventually became staff, those nurses who like to be called ‘pastor’, everybody decided their trite and false accusations merited them leaving patients to die. We were utterly disgusted at the stories. They wouldn’t treat our guard’s dying children. They wouldn’t come to operate on dying women bleeding to death. It was the most abhorrent behavior I’ve seen here. And when the regional judge sent his bailiff to ensure order, they actually physically blocked the bailiff from leaving the hospital compound until the bailiff was forced to call the police to give him an escort. Sarah believes some were devil-possessed and I believe it’s possible. Danae and I were prepared to not return if our witness was going to be leaving the suffering children of God to die. We want no part of that.
However, in the end, Sarah’s strong backbone and innate savvy and James’ experience won the day and reason returned to the hospital, but not until the lead instigator was fired, which is a very difficult thing to do in Tchad. Anyway, I don’t feel like devoting another paragraph to this most-shameful episode in our hospital’s history, so I’ll just leave it here. But it was helpful in showing us what is most important to the majority of our employees and which employees are actually committed. We are grateful for that.
Ok, on to happier subjects. Like burying Mom. Wait, no. That’s not really happier. But at any rate, that’s what we did. We caravanned three vehicles down to Collegedale, TN, where Mom has chosen to be buried and we plunked her ashes in the ground. Dad courageously led a small, intimate, personal, beautiful commemoration of Mom, and we said a bit of a final goodbye. Dad had chosen a beautiful cloisonné vase they had bought decades ago in China and sealed it. And then we all spit on Mom’s grave. Well, not exactly. We all ate watermelon, Mom’s favorite, then dropped seeds into her grave.
Then after that, we started our REAL road trip!!! The rest had all just been warm-up!
So our original plan of nine months of extended sabbatical went kaput, but we still decided we needed some extra time off this year. And it seemed all the chips were falling into place. Sarah was here and settled and proving herself to be an excellent doctor and committed missionary. We were into June and the work at the hospital seemed to be slowing down for rainy season, just as it did every year.
So June 11, we decided we were going on vacation. And we decided we were going on vacation the 13th, two days later! Who says you can’t be spontaneous when you’re a missionary doctor with four kids?! We emailed our amazing travel agent (insert gratuitous advertisement for Nathanael Martin at Butler Travel here), who purchased our tickets roughly 70 minutes later! So it was decided.
We took the slow bus up to N’Djamena and were off! We landed in DC on Thursday and found ourselves lost in the woods of northern Pennsylvania with backpacks on Sunday! We even drug my dad along! We had had just enough prep time for me to set up a three-man three- season tent, a three-man four-season tent, a two-man three-season tent, a double bivy sac, a single bivy sac and a hammock and tarp in dad’s backyard first.
We spent four days hiking the West Rim Trail of the ‘Grand Canyon of Pennsylvania’. It was beautiful and fun. Juniper (and occasionally Addison, since Juniper probably walked more than half of it!) rode on Danae’s back, Lyol and Zane carried some small packs, Dad carried a hefty load and I carried the rest.
The kids slept in a three-man tent, Dad had a two-man to himself (along with a sweet sleeping pad we gave him and then promptly stole for the rest of the summer) and Danae and I slept in one hammock. One. Hammock. Two people. Sleeping. Or trying.
You think you know somebody. But you don’t. Unless you’ve spent a few nights in a hammock with them, pretzeled up butt to butt, feet in face, squished together by love and the tension of deep hammock walls supporting a lot of suspended weight, showers nothing but a distant memory and a future you don’t dare to hope for. You know how some mattresses you feel it every time your significant other rolls over. I could feel it every time her heart had the gall to disturb me with its incessant beating. Every breath created an ocean swell of rocking. Every bodily function, and I mean EVERY bodily function, even those we like to pretend our beautiful wives don’t possess, was magnified and felt, rumbles, vibrations and all. Yeah, I can now say I know Danae. And not the old ‘Adam knew Eve’ way. This is deeper than that. We’ve shared a hammock. I hope you all get the chance to know your spouses this way. Because misery loves company.
Anyway, we had a hoot with campfires and roasting and setting up and taking down and seeing nature and walking and getting caught in diluvian downpours and popping blisters and hopping barefoot around campsites and having a great time in general. We may have only made around 22 miles in four days, with a couple of 7-milers in the middle, but we had fun and got tired, and that was the point.
After all that fun, we went to Great Wolf Lodge for Zane’s birthday, which he LOVED, on the way to Asheville, NC, to stay with some ‘Chadian’ friends, Mason and Kim. After a couple nights with Mason and Kim, they had the poor enough judgement to trust us with their 14-year- old daughter Emmie during a week in the woods. So we took Emmie, as well as my sister and her three boys, into the Blue Ridge Mountains of North Carolina.
We started the Art Loeb Trail up at the Blue Ridge Parkway and started downhill (I ain’t no dummy). But we didn’t start until late afternoon, so we dropped a car at the bottom, drove back up to the top and then Charity and the older boys headed off down into the woods while I parked, grabbed a backpack and ran back. We all hustled down after Danae and the youngers. Once at the bottom, we drove back up to the top and camped just a hundred yards or so into the woods off the parkway.
The next day was a drive back down to where we had stopped the previous day. Charity and I dropped everybody off and went to park a car halfway to the end, but then discovered everything was gated off. Our party of nine had taken off without any supplies, thinking it was just a short and simple day hike. But now we would need to overnight! So Charity and I had to repack EVERYTHING in the cars to fit all tents, stoves, food, bear canisters, warm overnight clothes, EVERYTHING into two backpacks. We dropped a car at the very end and skedaddled back to the trailhead. Charity hoisted a massive backpack onto her shoulders, I clipped a second backpack onto the back of my normal backpack and we took off, three backpacks between the two of us and our party with about a two-hour head start! We went double time and panted hard the whole way, up and over mountains with way-too-heavy packs on. We did eventually catch up, but it just about did us in. My sister is tough. The rest of the day should have been a lot easier, since we split up our weight a teensy bit with the others, but it wasn’t, thanks to a bit too much exertion on the front end of the day. But we had fun and everybody limped out to the vans the next evening.
After a third night in the woods, we spent Sunday as a bit of an off day. Our family plus Emmie hiked a couple miles up by the Blue Ridge Parkway, then we met the group, along with dear friends Neeta and Jim and Shiloh, swam in the river and ate yummy pizza. We said our goodbyes to Charity and boys, as well as the Hillmans, then drove back up to the top of the Blue Ridge Parkway to begin our adventure down the other side. And what an adventure it was!
By the time we were actually ready to start walking, it was after 9pm and all kids were asleep and it was raining. But Danae and I are terrible parents, so we decided to wake them up and get over the first hill to the next place with trees where we could put our hammock. Well, the next hill was over 6000 feet, as was the next one, and as was the next one. And their names all ended with ‘Bald’. As in, no trees. So we hiked for hours in the pitch-black rain up and over several mountains, encountering dogs masquerading as deadly wolves. And the kids actually were awesome! We finally got over the last 6000-foot bald and into a grove of a few trees. I set up the tents and tarps and hammocks. (Well, Emmie is tough, so she set up her own hammock.) We collapsed exhausted from the blowing rain, the midnight hours, the slog over high mountains.
The next day was a beautiful day. We hiked for a bit, then unpacked everything in the sunshine to dry out. We took a detour to hike up another mountain, Shining Rock, in the Shining Rock Wilderness. We were just a couple weeks too early for wild blueberries. I’ll bet the bears were getting excited and licking their lips. We hiked on and then finally slept just a couple miles from the end.
Finally we concluded our six days and hiked out of the woods and into a Boy Scouts of America camp where Mason and Kim and Grace rescued us. And fourteen-year-old Emmie pretty much carried her own stuff the whole way! 30+ miles!
After our second backpacking trip, we rushed back up to DC for Fourth of July, which was pretty fun to watch the kids enjoy a concert and a gymnastics show and the FIREWORKS!
July 6-8 I flew out to Chicago to climb the highest point of the great state of Illinois, Charles Mount, with Krystian and his kids. And we did it without any supplemental oxygen!
Then the day after I landed back in DC, we drove back up to the West Rim Trail in Pennsylvania and hiked the final ten miles with the Trecartins. We knew Megan, although we didn’t know she could hike so far while 8.7 months pregnant! And we knew Russ, but this was our first time meeting Andrew. They seem perfect for Chad! And we’re very optimistic they will be here full time soon enough. Inshallah!
Back to DC from northern Pennsylvania, and then on to Oklahoma to surprise Danae’s parents at Oklahoma Campmeeting. (I got to drive all night to celebrate my birthday!) The kids had a blast there for a week, attending the activities and meetings, and hanging out with the grandparents and Aunt Janelle (and maybe even Uncle Bill, but he was a little busy). In the middle of the camp meeting week, Danae and I left one night to drive across Oklahoma, across Texas, into New Mexico, and then back into Texas near El Paso just before sunrise to hike up the highest point in Texas, Guadalupe Peak. It was surprisingly beautiful. Clear weather and could see all around. Danae ran up the thing like a mad woman. It was significantly harder than Charles Mound, being a few thousand feet up and about 4.25 miles each way. Danae was up the thing in a matter of a couple hours, but then we took about the same amount of time coming down. But then everything went wrong.
Driving back to Oklahoma Campmeeting through the town of Orla, Texas, we hit a giant pothole and blew out the tire. Noon. West Texas desert. Mid-July. About a hundred and way too many degrees out. Changed the tire pouring sweat.
Now there are some things you should know about Orla, Texas. First thing you should know: No matter what I say, you won’t be able to confirm or contradict, because ain’t nobody know nuthin’ ‘bout Orla. This is the place six-degrees-of-separation doesn’t exist. Second thing you should know: Everything I will tell you about Orla is 100% true. Orla ‘is believed to have two residents.’ I’m not making this up. This is on Wikipedia. And I met both residents.
Orla is literally an intersection where two roads cross in the middle of West Texas. That’s it. There’s a gas station at the intersection. And a... wait for it... tire shop. In the town with a pothole the size of... well, the size of Texas. No, not literally of course. Not literally the size of Texas. But literally that’s all that’s in town. The two residents are the man and woman running the tire shop. After we blew the tire, it wasn’t two minutes before a tow truck was there asking if we needed help. (We didn’t! I can change a dadburn tire!) Yeah, that’s coincidence.
We slap on the spare doughnut and head off down the under-construction-road. (Under construction, just please don’t fix our pothole as it’s the town’s sole source of income!) We drive on to Odessa and stop at a tire shop. They finally get to it near the close of business. And they see it’s an aluminum rim and it’s bent and they can’t risk bending it back. I need a new rim.
Now apparently Dodge made like 14 different rims for their Grand Caravans this model year, and we found the extinct one! The Dodge in Odessa didn’t have it, nor Midland, nor... well, I’m getting ahead of myself. We figure Abilene is a big city, so we go there and get a hotel, instead of staying with my sister in Dallas as planned. Our hotel is literally next door to the Dodge dealer. At the open of business, we call and ask for the rim, which they obviously don’t have. I call every single Dodge dealer between Abilene and Arkansas. Nobody has it. The central database says there are two down near Houston, one in Fayetteville (although when I call they say they don’t really have it), one in Indianapolis and two in California. Six in the world! Oh wait, there’s one in the central warehouse in Dallas! Great! We start driving. But the warehouse in Dallas will only ship. They don’t let customers come and pick up there. Ok, I call a Dodge
dealer next door to the warehouse. Can they go pick it up for me? Yes? Great! They need me to pay for it first? No problem! My credit card is... What? It has to be check? You don’t take credit card? Is this still America? Ok, fine, hang on...
I call my sister at work. Hey, can you play hooky and go pay for a rim for me by check at the Dodge dealer? Yes? Great!
Wait, Mr Dodge Dealer? You’re saying it’s too late in the day and your order had to be in by 9am? Seriously? You’re like, right next to the warehouse? Not gonna work.
So I’m staring down the barrel of 700 miles on a donut. That’s not fun. So I call the nearby Dodge dealers for a spare donut in case this one blows. They don’t have any. I call the nearby tire dealers. They don’t have any either?!?!?! Seriously???
I call the biggest junk yard in central Texas in Fort Worth and they have one. I’ll take it! So now I have a spare spare tire. Yes, I’m that out of shape, but I’m not talking about my tummy. Anyway, we eventually make it back to Oklahoma camp meeting, forced to limp along at 55mph on 85mph roads!!! Oh, the pain!
The next day, my rim gets delivered from the Dallas warehouse to a dealer near camp meeting and I get set up. Finally. In time to drive the 24 hours back to DC.
We hung out in DC for a bit with my sister, we met up with more future (yay, Davenport!) and past (yay, Roberts!) missionaries, did some driving range, did some indoor skydiving, and then eventually went to the lake for a week with the whole family. It was our first week there without Mom, and it was a bit lonely, but we all still had fun.
Except, during our lake week, our staff in Chad decided to go on strike. We were always proud to say our hospital was the only one in the country that never went on strike, not even a pared down services in support of others’ strikes. We simply don’t do that. However, we had a few individuals make a power play, as somebody invariably does every time we go on vacation. It was so infuriating and discouraging. They needed a scapegoat, so they targeted one of our foreign volunteers, lodging old complaints and accusations against her we had already previously addressed and given proof showing their accusations were false. Regardless, they were determined this time. They rallied staff and showed their solidarity. In the end, only one of my nurses had the courage and integrity to come to work and treat patients. Others, those who had spent thirty years at the hospital, those who would go out and evangelize to tell of Jesus’ love, those who grew up a staff children and eventually became staff, those nurses who like to be called ‘pastor’, everybody decided their trite and false accusations merited them leaving patients to die. We were utterly disgusted at the stories. They wouldn’t treat our guard’s dying children. They wouldn’t come to operate on dying women bleeding to death. It was the most abhorrent behavior I’ve seen here. And when the regional judge sent his bailiff to ensure order, they actually physically blocked the bailiff from leaving the hospital compound until the bailiff was forced to call the police to give him an escort. Sarah believes some were devil-possessed and I believe it’s possible. Danae and I were prepared to not return if our witness was going to be leaving the suffering children of God to die. We want no part of that.
However, in the end, Sarah’s strong backbone and innate savvy and James’ experience won the day and reason returned to the hospital, but not until the lead instigator was fired, which is a very difficult thing to do in Tchad. Anyway, I don’t feel like devoting another paragraph to this most-shameful episode in our hospital’s history, so I’ll just leave it here. But it was helpful in showing us what is most important to the majority of our employees and which employees are actually committed. We are grateful for that.
Ok, on to happier subjects. Like burying Mom. Wait, no. That’s not really happier. But at any rate, that’s what we did. We caravanned three vehicles down to Collegedale, TN, where Mom has chosen to be buried and we plunked her ashes in the ground. Dad courageously led a small, intimate, personal, beautiful commemoration of Mom, and we said a bit of a final goodbye. Dad had chosen a beautiful cloisonné vase they had bought decades ago in China and sealed it. And then we all spit on Mom’s grave. Well, not exactly. We all ate watermelon, Mom’s favorite, then dropped seeds into her grave.
Then after that, we started our REAL road trip!!! The rest had all just been warm-up!
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