BELINDA SHAO

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hold fast to the spirit of youth

Re-read my med school admissions essays to write something.  Wow... some thoughts:

Chilled to the bone by the how my dreams have not changed despite 2 years of grit, change, and immersion in a sometimes-jaded system/industry.  God knows what He is doing; young people, the words you write now are likely prophetic over the future if He lives in you.  If your heart is His, He will fill it with His desires for the world :)  I'm tearing up at the beauty of this.  

(And yes, those impossible goals are probably your calling because He is the one who opens all the doors :D  )

Hold fast the spirit of youth.  A very unique and free-spirited doctor advised us in medical school to plaster our personal statements on our walls lest we lose sight of them.  Though I laughed then, I realize now that she is right, as various stressors and concerns have tested how much I will continue to pursue these things to which I set out at first.

Reading my writing now and my writing then... HA!  Dismayed that my writing skillz have greatly depreciated from this year of speaking mostly with words like "medial longitudinal fasciulus," with little-to-no grammar and style...

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just fyi

Why am I suddenly posting things again? - I want to record thoughts - I miss writing… med school doesnt really involve writing or reading much non-science work - Grad school has shrunken the amount of people I talk to on an everyday basis, and I am an extrovert in need of an outlet. - I care less now than I did before about what others will think if they stumble upon this… And I want to continue to care less about what others think of my thoughts (I love people but I am more concerned with what God thinks of me). - I don’t have time to edit things anymore so it’s easier :) (although I will edit if I write something major, as in something Heartfelt and Important) - I feel that if I keep writing out my thoughts I will stay sharp and become sharper in being able to express myself. Doing it via a blog gives me a motivational measure of accountability because it is visible to the public (although I don’t think many people read this anyway). Doing it in the form of writing about just about anything also takes the pressure off, which is what I’m doing here. -I figure before I can write/write about anything spectacular in life I have to write/write about a lot of random mediocre stuff

And so continues this random onslaught of my thoughts :) Readers, I won’t be offended if you un-follow :)

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Effects of Productivity on Wardrobe

Recently I have read a few random articles about highly successful people / efficient people / productive people wearing “uniforms”— that is, the same thing every day, or close to it. The reasoning was that they do not then need to devote those extra few minutes of brainpower to picking out an outfit. For example, Steve Jobs was known for not only Apple but also his unchanging black T-shirt and jeans.

Around the same time, I started to notice my own closet had become more uniform. Last week, I laid out my Black Friday purchases on my bed to show my mom last week and we suddenly realized they were all white, black, navy, and gray. I laughed; she grimaced. When I got back to my apartment in Newark (main dwelling at the moment), I added these to my closet I laughed again. Just about all my tops in the “most often worn” section were of those colors, with only three shirts of other colors. (The "most often worn" section is about 2-3 feet wide and has been designated as such not purpose but emergently, out of habit and convenience and laziness towards opening my other closet door.)

I looked back on the last few months and realized my sartorial choices had indeed been made more and more quickly. I rarely ventured into the more-exciting-but-not-as-often-worn areas of the closet as I hurriedly threw on these easily matchable basics between sleep, studying, exams, classes, extracurriculars, and social events. With bigger fish to fry and more things to think about, my attention to sartorial detail had been squeezed into those rushed transitions between being engrossed in one thing and being late to the next. Medical school has definitely been an exercise in efficiency— I’m amazed at how clubs operate and meetings run to ensure we can all get back to studying. I suppose my everyday suit is following suit.

Thankfully there are still exciting things in my closet from the gap year days of perusing sample sales, taking cues from my fashion industry friends in the big city, and taking personal wardrobe risks. (I would highly recommend including those activities in your gap year bucket list for anyone thinking about taking one!) On some days, I do still choose the white skinny jeans with fluorescent flower print, just because they are there (and easily pair with black). Indeed, access is the first step to practice…

Perhaps another factor to this whole equation is there is much less fashion variety here than where I used to live in the Big Apple, and I no longer bombarded with fashion inspiration in my everyday interaction with the world. Incidentally... the day I wore those pants to anatomy lab (with a lab coat thrown on top to avoid dissection juices of course), they surely turned heads. Those heads (of my classmates) were attached to bodies dressed in the same, boring, monotone scrubs. Productivity nonwithstanding, I’m also finding I gotta mix it up from time to time to beat the medical school grind!

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Bake Sale Surge

There has been a surge of bake sales at school recently. Is this a winter packing on the pounds thing? Nothing to do in the Northeast cold but bake?

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The healthiest dinner I could muster out of the Family Dollar across the street. Not bad!

One public health concern in this city is lack of access to fresh vegetables and other affordable healthy food. You can, however, get a “3-course meal” at a bodega or the hospital’s Burger King for cheap, a habit that if continued will land you back in the hospital with diabetes, cardiovascular disease, etc. Surely enough, Essex County is ranked 20th out of 21 counties in NJ for health outcomes, and the people we see at clinic so often have diabetes that we even have entire self-management classes and designated nurses for them. Why would you do that to yourself? Part of the disease may be genetic and out of your control, but much of it is not, and there’s no mystery why it happens if you can’t help eating this way due to lack of education, finances, and access. What frustrates me personally is when people are sick when it could have been “easily” prevented. Studies have shown that simply having more floor space devoted to produce will increase its consumption. With a local farmers market now every Tuesday, we’re getting there.

When I decided to go to school in Newark I was looking forward to living in a place where I could see how people deal with things like that and what is being done on an everyday level. Without a car this week to go to the Whole Foods in the next town, I wondered how healthy of a dinner I could get at the Family Dollar across the street. If life had dealt me a different set of cards like many of my patients, I wouldn't have a car anyway.

I had increasingly succumbed to the local diet in the past few weeks, and felt like I could really use a vegetable. Did not want sodium- and carb-induced “itis” on top of the Anatomy studying tonight. The frozen and canned selection all the way in the back looked promising. I was hoping for some frozen vegetables but only found this bag that made me get some frozen seafood and pasta along with the vegetables… “Seafood Alfredo Linguini.”. With a scan of the nutrition facts on these packages I realized I could get lots of vitamins and minerals and fiber, and still stay within a sane sodium and carb limit if I didn’t use the included alfredo sauce. This bag looked like it had more vegetables than the chicken-stir-fry option, but I still wanted more.

I soon found that the canned vegetables were adjacent to where I was standing. I chose the options that had least additives, steering clear of the more alluring seasoned collard greens in a can. (Although those looked tasty, they sported a good helping of monosodium glutamate and other long-named friends.) I checked out along with my fellow neighborhood folk avoiding a large, talkative inebriated man also in the line, crossed the street, and hit the kitchen.

Ultimately, this selection afforded me 4 servings worth of dinner, with vitamins and fiber and protein, and minimal “junk.” For a total of $8! It was also extremely easy, as the product lived up to its ” READY TO EAT IN 10 MINUTES” label! To make things more exciting? I ditched the processed sauce included and my own seasonings (Maille whole grain mustard, grated Parmesan, and leftover homemade turkey gravy). (Well actually, I did use a dab of the included Alfredo sauce—about 1/10th of what was provided— just to keep the shrimp Alfredo feel, but you get the idea). I wouldn't exactly call it "Gourmet Dining" as the package does but I'm thankful to be fed and nourished tonight!

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that awkward moment

When the study snack you made becomes just... well, snack.

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note to self 1

Cleaning your room 2 days before your birthday was a very good idea! Nothing like waking up to a clean and cozy room with the future ahead. Good birthday present to self this year.

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Practical Love

FRIDAY JUNE 6TH

What does love look like? It looks like different things in different contexts, and the Iris family has found many ways to show love practically in this community. And I get to just jump in and have fun after they have done the labor of laying down the foundations!

Today we learned of all the practical efforts going on around the base and in the community. We will be signing up with 4 preferences and assigned 1-2 for the duration of our time here, for a few days a week.

I had no idea there were SO MANY THINGS going on here. It is simply amazing that the Lord puts dreams in people’s hearts, and they say yes and put in the work. We just get to come see how He has carried them through and touched individuals and transformed lives.

It took three hours total for all the representative teams to come and present to us what they do here and how they would like Harvest School volunteers to help. We heard from Mozambicans and internationals alike about their shared hearts and labors for so many different, truly unique things.

I am summarizing the various things in the bulleted list below, with info on the pursuit and what help they'd asked from us. I will update regarding which I end up doing! Sorry for the long list- just wanted to give the full scope!

Medical Clinic

Salon: asking for trained hairdressers to teach girls these vocational skills

House Construction: especially important after Pemba’s recent flood

Visitors center: Hospitality team hosts hundreds of short-term visitors in the next few months. Help needed in mostly making beds before people come in, and interceding. Also playing w (babysitting) the children of the team’s leaders.

Pilots: Iris has a plane to reach more distant lands. They aren’t taking pilots but open to talk about piloting in the field.

Child Sponsorship: help needed to organize all the data and communications for those sponsoring a child’s education and living at Iris

Finance Team: asking for intercessors for financial team and financial needs. Also asking for help to build a house for the finance team guy and his wife Anna (met here and adopting a daughter from Mozambique)

Farm: Their main output right now is a maize harvest- they give 800kg shelled maize to village widows weekly. Also make onions and peppers for kitchen. Looking into moringa trees- this is a miracle tree that has all the nutrients you need to live, and water-purifying oils as well… funnily they grow where the poorest live. The team disciples the local workers who completely manage the farm, who have built an amazing culture of excellence and integrity.

Casa de Gloria: This started off as a feeding program when village boys started coming to ask for Iris kitchen leftovers daily. Now it has found its way to becoming a boys’ youth camp/discipleship community for village kids.

(actual) Feeding program: 3500 kids fed every Friday. They say come learn how to cook African food!

- Kitchen staff: a truly joyous team that cooks for about a thousand each day on the Iris base, and many more on Sundays. They were heard joyously worshipping together before cooking through the night for 7,000 on Children’s Day (Sunday)

- Mercy dept: The widows are the most vulnerable women in Pemba (not to mention those Jesus exhorts us to love lots)… There are a variety of services available for them. They get bags of rice/beans weekly. They can enroll in a microfinance program so they can earn instead of just receive- they get micro loans to make/sell donuts and pizza and such. If they pay it back they can do another loan cycle. Mama Getti (local leader) essentially runs Mercy, and knows each of the 400 women by name, where they live and their situation.

- English school: teach kids English so they can get better jobs later

- Iris Arts: helped needed to teach jewelry making, sing songs, and engage with this vocational jewelry-making/crafts program/business for widows. They are also raising up a worship leaders and have planned an upcoming women’s conference for the community (rare for women to have conferences or opportunities to be taught the Bible here).

- Gardening: help take care of base grounds

- “Blessing the long-termers”: the LT missionaries are very busy and have been here from 1-9 years! We have a long list of ways to bless then and can always think of more.

- goat farm: take care of goats- chase after them and trim their hooves (I forget what the goats are for)

- “Soaking” w kids: help Iris kids enjoy God in times of extended worship

- “Encounters”: set up gazebo weekly for the base community to come encounter God- they’re thinking stations for foot washing, soaking, prophecy, prophetic art, etc

- Boat maintenance team: Iris uses boats I go to villages we can’t reach by truck. Help needed to prepare the boats and intercede for these teams.

- Vocational: help needed to look for scholarships online for Mozambicans to go to University or vocational schools

- Galleria de Sanas - vocational program for women to sew products like bags, and sell them in Mozambique and online.

- village kids ministry: games, drama, gospel!

- Alini & Roscoe & Joy- LT family asking for help to prepare food so dad can have more ministry time. They just had a baby in Pemba one month ago. Husband works teaching bible school, and seminars/discipleship in the bush. “We are learning how to be a mom a family and do ministry as well.”

- Prayer: go out and pray in hospital, jail, and other communities

- Children’s ministry: asking for help on Fri, take kids to beach day. Baby house asking for physical therapist to work w girl w cerebral palsy daily- they are believing she’ll be able to walk. Also need help w kids church service. Also need helpers to have 1-on-1 time with kids w learning disabilities.

- Rahab House: a place for women on the streets who often sell their bodies to come hang out. Paint nails, chill, pray for them, etc

- Construction projects for widows

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Everyday Life

One week later, this is my first update from Mozambique!

There is way too much to report, so I am going to break this up.  This post will be just about our physical conditions.

The past week has been about adjusting to the culture and surroundings. The weather is beautiful as we are in the Southern summer. We are in the 80s during the day and the 60s at night. The foliage is tropical, with palm trees and mango trees, etc.

We are living on the Iris base called Village of Joy.  Here is everything it contains, detailed in this map posted on the side of one of the huts.  Entry to come about all the stuff going on at the base!

We have 40 nations represented in the Harvest School (350 students including myself). There is also a concurrent Bible School for 200 men from Mozambique studying to become pastors and missionaries. Working alongside us are short-term visitors from other countries as well. Also living and working on the base are the Iris kids who have grown up in the orphanage, and Mozambican staff who help run everyday activities like feeding everybody! There are also two horses living here, lizards, and many, many bugs that tend to join us all the time.

I am living in a student house with 3 bunk beds and a walled-off bathroom. We have to be creative with storage, so I've created a makeshift shelf which a line of things on the edge of my bed against the wall, and I have hung my clothing on four hangers off of my bed.

Our running water has been out for 4 days, so we can collect water sparingly from a reserve tank, and cannot flush our toilets, so we must use cement latrines (literally a hole in the ground).  We are all praying it comes back on.  When it does, we are able to take sparing cold showers and 

Food has been mostly carbohydrates... usually my nemesis at home. I've also not brought any coffee. My body has been adjusting to this and I have often been fatigued or at least low on social energy, with nauseous moments.

As for meals, breakfast consists of bread rolls taken from burlap sacks at the foot of a bilbao tree between 6:30-7:00am.  I've also purchased some peanut butter to supplement that, and brought a stash of fiber granola bars from home. Lunch and dinner consist of rice or noodles heavily seasoned, and either beans or cabbage or some other African vegetables called matapa (kind of like collard greens).  Sometimes there is fish or fruit as well, and chicken on special occasions.  We eat with our hands unless we bring our own forks and knives. We are able to supplement these foods with produce and food items purchased in nearby streetside stands, or in town.

Here is the bilbao tree ("the bread tree").

Upper left: my house mom, Aly, enjoys sprucing up the rice and beans with many spices.  Upper right: Aika from Japan is roasting garlic to eat in order to ward off mosquito bites.

Photos are taking extremely long to upload here to I think I'll have to stop here.  Another entry coming up right now!

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Test Post from Mozambique

Wondering if the Tumblr app works on my phone. Let's see!

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Children's Day Mozambique

SUNDAY 6/1:

I am drafting this entry (to post when I have wi-fi) from the front porch of my little cement house, smelling like chicken, sweat, and dirty kids!

I am praising the Lord for bringing greater freedom inside my heart as I praise Him and serve with this community.

Today, along with my Iris community, I:

attended church service on the Iris base— filled with dancing, kids, and a child preacher (in honor of Children’s Day).

celebrated Children’s Day Mozambique by serving about 6,000 children lunch

bussed and washed thousands of dishes

energized dish-washing by praise dancing and singing with kitchen ladies in various languages

spent time writing and reading with Jesus

went to a “floor meeting” of sorts to get to know girls I am living with

enjoyed an impromptu Spirit-filled worship session led by Harvest School students, during which I had a wild time dancing with my flags

continued hearing stories from all the people here about their lives and 

In the morning we participated in church on the Iris base. It was quite the global experience: kids from the village, adopted Iris kids (we don’t call them orphans), the Bible School’s aspiring Mozambican pastors, the Harvest School students from all over the world, and the long-term missionaries from everywhere. There were two translators, so that whatever was being said could be heard in Makua (local African dialect), Portuguese, and English.

Children’s Day is a day in Mozambique for celebrating children, so church service also celebrated children. Youth led worship, youth girls did a praise dance, and then a child preached on Psalm 1. The preacher shared his life testimony of being thrown out of a broken family, being adopted into the Iris family, and eventually coming to know Jesus who transformed his life and then his family when he returned to tell them about Him. They gave an altar call to any children who wanted to know Jesus for the very first time.

Because it was Children’s Day, hundreds of children who walked into the base for the day’s activities were also at church.  Worship was spirited as I danced with this girl.  During the message she braided my hair.  I’m glad I took my friend Jane’s advice to not cut my hair before coming here, so that kids could play with it!

Here, kids, Harvest School students, and leaders (including Heidi Baker) are praying for the child speaker before he shares.

For lunch we had a special meal for Children’s Day of chicken, rice, chocolate, and Fanta!  I also forgot to bring a fork, and figured now was the time to do what everybody else does here and use my hands. A few sprays of hand sanitizer later I had figured out how to haphazardly shovel food into my mouth.

We are encouraged to have conversations in the cafeteria with the Mozambican students of the Bible School. But after exchanging some Spanishtuguese with a man named Cristover, a little boy came up and called us “maridos.” Seems I need to work on cultural gender norms. Most of the Mozambicans we are able to engage with on a daily basis are male, but my room is doing “Adopt A Dorm” and will be “adopting” a room of Iris girls soon to hang out with them weekly or more. I am very much looking forward to this.

After lunch, we fed lunch to between 5,000 and 7,000 children who came to the Iris base! We fed them chicken, savory rice, cabbage, a lollipop, and a Fanta. Wow! For those who’ve done Father’s Heart Ministries breakfast in NYC… imagine that crowd, times ten, and all children. So many happy kids sitting on the floor and shoveling food into their mouths with their hands. Some children walked for hours from their village to come to this meal, and many with babies on their backs. I saw many children pouring the Fanta into waterbottles to take home, perhaps to share with other family members.

To control the line of thousands, children lined up outside the Iris gate. They were first led into our huge sanctuary space, where they participated in sing-alongs and dancing. As they exited, Harvest School students touched them and high-fived them, while blessing and praying for them inwardly. On the next line into the kitchen, kids got their hands washed, and waited and waited, some laughing while people played with them. One man had a rat puppet and fooled around with the kids.

He was a hoot. Note to self: bring puppet next time.

Kids love photos!

This girl is having a grand ole’ time stuffing chicken in her mouth and watching Iris girls dance!

Wish I could post more photos but the Internet is very slow!

More updates to come!

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"making new things look old" to avoid paying customs duty if examined in #Mozambique. what fun.

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the Lord's timing

God is amazing and has a great sense of humor.

Although I had started praying about IRIS over a year ago, and submitted my application, for much of the winter the decision was unclear and life's discouragements dragged me down.  I fought the blues.  Soon my grandmother became very sick in Shanghai. I decided to visit her for the summer.

I tabled IRIS in my heart for another time.

Three weeks ago, my grandmother passed away. We had a good few sad yet thankful days of grieving her life and counting our blessings enjoyed in her 94 years.

The next day, I got accepted to IRIS's program.

For a week as I waited on the Lord and cried out to Him, it became clear that He uses the most broken, like myself, that equips the called... and that He was still inviting me to have this delight especially now that I had surrendered it, even though I had wavered.

Yet the one-month time crunch was daunting.  I stepped out onto the waters, tentatively like Peter.  God is patient with me.

In the past five days, an avalanche of blessing has been released. My beloved friends have given to help me exceed my fundraising goal for the trip!

I know the money comes not only from my friends but from the heart of the Lord-- how else can you explain raising $2500 in FIVE DAYS, with more checks promised in the mail?!

I am speechless in joy, honor, and worship.

I'm thankful God chose to wait until a month before my trip to open all the doors and provide all the finances.  This gives me less time to over-think things and just say yes, yes, yes, and get myself to Pemba to participate however He wants me to!

It's so much fun when we say yes to God and offer ourselves-- just wait and see what He does!

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if she focuses during tutoring we get to do "show and tell"-- today I brought my worship dance flags for show and tell!!! #learningfromchildren

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mi familia

written June 2012 all names changed

* * *

“Uri-uri-uri… urinar….”

            Max’s hands shook as he continued to mutter in Spanish syllables as he always did, as if reading a document that had gone through a paper shredder.  His feet shuffled forwards as another resident held him back by the wrist.  Shuffle shuffle, mutter mutter, shake shake.  At least Max’s feet, mouth, and hands seemed to follow the same jittery rhythm, despite lack of comprehensible output.

            Just a few months ago, I had carried a decent conversation with him, chatting about the Spanish radio and asking if he would like to hear me play some violin as he sat in his easy chair.  He seldom left that chair.  After a fall he was hospitalized, and upon return, all he would do was shuffle throughout his room moving furniture around with his head bowed.  Upon a revisit with my violin a few weeks ago, I did get him to stop shuffling.  As I played, Max put down his garbage can and stopped, staring at the corner of his closet.  That was a start, but he still seemed impossible to converse with, and would only sometimes respond to my questions in very loud and broken Spanish.  He muttered syllables and words that sometimes produced what might be an answer.  He wasn’t able to go to lunch or sit down when appropriate unless our largest and most matronly CNA took him by the hand like a dog on a leash.  Last week I found him lounging around with his fly unzipped on the floor of the stairwell, and called the CNA for rescue.

            But at this very moment, Max had gotten up of his own accord and seemed to be trying to get somewhere.  Medea, another resident, was holding his wrist, stopping him from walking forwards.  He was in the community room, and I was happy to see him there because he was seldom out of his room.  His two shaking hands were fingering his belt buckle as he muttered in a raised voice what sounded like “toilet” and “papel” and “urinar.” Feeble cries of alarm.

            But it was too late.  A small puddle of clear yellow was already forming at his feet.  Leading him to the bathroom would only create a wake of urine and arrive with an empty tank.  Linoleum tile does not make a good riverbank, so the puddle grew into a lake.

            The CNA returned and saw the lake.  She looked at me with her seasoned nurse smile.  “Belinda, why’d you do that!” she joked.  With steps slow and sure, she led Max to the bathroom and cleaned him up.  I recovered from my confusion about the wetting incident, and sat down with Max at the art table.  Let’s see where we can go today.

            “Mi familia… mi familia… mi familia.”  Max’s folded hands were trembling over his flannel drawstring waistband as he muttered something about family.  Su familia? I prompted.  “Mi familia es muy muy grande,” he stuttered.  O, un gran familia?  I affirmed, inviting elaboration.  “Si, muy grande, muy grande.”  Y cuantos hermanos tiene?  I thought maybe the conversation could go further today.  To my surprise and delight it did.  “Once hermanos, y cuatro hermanas…”

            As I continued to follow the key phrases within his disjointed muttering, and clarified over and over again the words he said, he started to tell me about his family.  Ah, vamos a dibujar su familia!  It was arts and crafts, after all.  Let’s draw your family.  We continued our conversation and I drew everything he said: eleven boy stick figures for his hermanos, four girl stick figures for his hermanas.  I asked for their names and labeled them.  I asked como era su hermana Nali?  y Cristina? and drew short hair or pigtails as he answered my questions about each sibling.  One brother “era un maestro de escuela,” so I drew some glasses for the professor.  More and more words came.  Something about how he didn’t know how his family was doing anymore, how he left them a long time ago.  Something about losing his ID somewhere.  I leaned in to his hardly intelligible replies, too scared that it would stop to have time for amazement that we were actually having what you might call a detailed conversation. 

              Y mama, como era su boca?  “Mama, siempre sonriendo.”  A big smile with pink marker. 

Y los zapatos, cual tipo de zapatos?  “Regular.”  I filled in circles for regular shoes.  Con esos?  I drew heels.  He shook his head, “No, no, no, regular.”  I got rid of the heels. 

  Y los ojos? “El mismo de mio.”  Same as his: gray.

  What about papa?  “Papa, no recuerda mucho,” he said.  But “Vivieron en el campo.”  I drew some grass.  “Tuve caballos.  Horsie.”  I drew a horsie.

  Y Max? He looked annoyed that I didn’t know: “Yo soy Max.”

  Most of the time in patients with severe mental decline, I feel like the brainthreads are all tangled; sometimes seemingly hopelessly.  But sometimes, if I find the right “in,” that thread could unravel a tapestry.  To my amazement, it did that day.  Our family portrait testifies.

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S-C-R-A-B-B-L-E C-H-A-M-P

written March 2012 all names and initials disguised

I met J on my first day of work.  Our nursing facility houses many patients who have mental and motor conditions, but his were especially serious—he could hardly even move his mouth to speak.  To call my name, he would say “Beahhh!  Beahhh!”  Belinda! Belinda!

That day as I interviewed J to update his recreation charts, I soon found there was no way to be hasty speaking with him.  Sometimes I had to wait five minutes, kneeling beside his wheelchair, listening to him say a few words, say them again, and then say them still again, until I finally understood what he was saying.  Sometimes when I just really didn’t understand, J would spell out his words letter by letter, struggling to say each letter of the alphabet he needed. 

 It was in one of these situations that I had a lightbulb moment.  “Hold on J!”  I ran to get a key and retrieve the solution: our plastic purple alphabet stencil from the arts and crafts cabinet.  Usually these stencils are used to teach small children to write letters, but J could use it to point to one letter at a time.  He saw it and immediately understood, eyes closing slightly and emitting a relieved “Mmmm.”  During that interview, J spelled out “SCRABBLE CHAMP” when I asked him about his hobbies.

One day I found another patient in trouble: R.  R had just used her own wheelchair to reach the stairwell door and was using much of her tiny strength to try and open it.  This was very dangerous, as R is one of our more “confused” patients, and had just recently been relegated to a wheelchair, no longer able to climb stairs.  The stairwell was a few feet away from J's preferred parking spot in the lobby.  As soon as he saw me enter, he shouted “Beahh!” and slowly but urgently stuck one finger out to point at R, furrowing his brows and lifting his drooping head sideways to look up as he cried, “Waaaa’ee’ooh’ee?!” What’s she doing!?  Before that day, I didn’t believe that J's facial muscles could even move.

A few weeks later I played a game of Scrabble with J.  His fingers crept along the scrabble board to move each small Scrabble tiles around.  I watched him sitting in his chair, slowly and arduously attempting to exert these actions, and realized that such fine motor skills were terribly strenuous for him.  After three turns, sweat beads dripped down his forehead and I suggested we take a break.  Nevertheless, J did indeed turn out to be quite a S-C-R-A-B-B-L-E C-H-A-M-P.

Watching J play Scrabble and show his concern for R, I realized that despite his inability to express himself in words, he must surely have many words to say.  I slowly learned how to comprehend J's “words” better, but hoped that one day someone could donate a tablet for him to type on, or something else that could help him communicate.  J, what do you find to be important to you?  What have you seen and who have you met over the course of your life?  Maybe one day, I thought, we would learn the answers to these questions.

Indeed, a few months later the tablet donation was received as I worked with an outside church organization, voiced this need, and found a donor.  Downloading an AAC app with buttons that helped him express daily wants and needs was helpful, and more organic verbal communication is getting there, although limited.  “I want to say thank you.  You see, I have a problem…” were the only two lines of a thank-you note that J was able to write after a week of using the iPad.  With motor skills not precise enough for the touchpad keyboard, Jamel has gotten fatigued and discouraged.  These days, the tablet resides in the bag hanging off the back of his wheelchair, untouched.  It may seem like a waste of an expensive gadget, but the reality is that sometimes we find that achieving our dreams does not get us where we thought they would.  Hopefully, one day we can find out how to make the tablet more usable for J.  Meanwhile, the stencil still works fine.

[ummmbilicus-blog]

SUMMER 2014: MISSIONS, MEDICINE, AND MOZAMBIQUE

Dear friends,

The time has come!

In 3 weeks I will be joining 300 people from around the world at Harvest Missions School, a 67-day program of Rolland and Heidi Baker’s IRIS Global, on their main base in Pemba, Mozambique. The day I return to the States, I will be starting orientation as a first-year at New Jersey Medical School, in Newark, NJ.  There is much ahead.

It is my sheer joy and undeserved delight that I will be joining IRIS this summer as they engage in missions and development work in the context of global poverty. Given the many radical ways this community of “laid-down lovers” has been known to follow Jesus and extend compassion to the poor, I expect that this experience will define the choices I will make as a Christian and as a physician for the rest of my life.

Thank you so much for being part of this journey already by sharing your life with me. All the times we have spent together have encouraged me to continue pursuing Christ, as well as the path of medicine.  It is but the Lord’s right hand that upholds me—often through you.

If you want to know more about what I’ll be doing, click here for FAQs.

If you want to hear UPDATES from me along the way, fill out this form.

If you'd like to SUPPORT me financially, please click here.

And… if you can hang out before I leave, (please!) call me!

♥Love, Beli(nda)

read my full letter here