Meet the Team

Over the past several weeks, I have enjoyed getting to know each person on this trip. Each person has a story of trials that they have used to fuel their desire to love and serve others through their future careers. This beautiful group of women have taught me the value of vulnerability and the power of a heart of service. I could not be more grateful for these new friends and the opportunity to serve alongside these amazing people.

Day 1 of Ministry

On our first day of ministry, we walked into the ward, slightly intimidated at the prospect of speaking with strangers. We were from different cultures, language barriers existed, and what do you even talk about? However, when we entered the ward, I watched some of our team members walk confidently up to young mothers to engage in conversation. This sense of confidence seeped into the rest of the group, and quickly, we were scattered among the 45-bed inpatient ward.

This day I sparked relationships with children that only progressed as the week continued. Each of us formed a connection with a child, mother, or sibling that we got the opportunity to love, minister to, and be ministered to. On the first day, I met a variety of people. I played with seven-year-olds and held infants, but to my surprise, my strongest connection was with a teenage girl.

Joy Christabel is a seventeen-year-old who had surgery to correct an injury from an accident as a child. Christabel and I connected because when I was seventeen, I had my first brain surgery; we both didn’t have many close friends in high school, and we both had a passion for medicine. My conversation with Christabel and her family was short-lived that first day, but little did I know she would bring me so much joy every day.

Day 2 of Ministry

Amos, a small, beautiful, seven-year-old boy, was in a house fire in 2020 that killed three others. For the past three years, he and his father have attempted to find a hospital to treat him without payment. It wasn’t until they found CURE Kenya that Amos received treatment.

I had the honor and privilege of being with Amos during his surgery. I shadowed as doctors from as far as Australia delicately laid fresh skin on his raw and tender skull. Because CURE relies entirely on donations, they encourage photographs, even in the operating room, or as the Kenyan call it, the theatre.

Amos’s surgery was a grueling four hours, and while observing this surgery was an experience I dreamed of achieving, my heart ached at every cut. His thin legs began to move as they were still wrapping his small head in bandages.

After wheeling him across the hall to post-OP, a nurse began to take his vital signs. My three teammates and I slowly exited the theatre with a sense of heaviness. As most of us were planning to enter the medical field, we were excited at the prospect of getting to do this as a career. On the other hand, our hearts ached for Amos.

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The rest of the day, we got to engage in fellowship with the children in the ward. We learned more about the stories of the people we met the day prior and got to experience faith through the lens of a child. Each day, the CURE spiritual team conducts ward fellowship, consisting of family-led worship, a short sermon, and testimonies from parents. I witnessed astounding acts of faith in the form of worship ensue across the ward.

Elizabeth, one of our team members, connected with a ten-year-old boy who had been orphaned. He opened up to her about his lack of belief in God’s plan for his life and doubted if the Lord even cared for him because of his trials. After encouraging him with the truth that God speaks over him, I watched as the same boy who questioned God’s goodness proclaimed the Lord’s sovereignty in bold prayer. Each day, small miracles erupted across the ward, and today, we watched a child who endured so much lay all his burdens at the foot of the cross.

Day 3 of Ministry

As a child, I spent many months in excruciating pain, wondering if this pain would ever end, would ever bring any fruitful meaning. Over the past nine years, I've watched my mother advocate for me when I couldn't advocate for myself, and today, I got to do the same for Amos.

The next day after Amos's surgery, we conducted VBS for the children in the ward; I saw Amos lying in bed with his dad by his side. I brought the craft to him, explained it, and demonstrated how to do it. Once his dad understood, I left to assist the next child.

A few hours later, I saw Amos lying alone and felt drawn to him. As I got closer, I could hear a faint whimpering and saw tears in his eye. I went over to the nurse, explained his pain, and asked if he was due for pain medication. As we waited for pain medication, we read Dr. Suess, and his whimpering slowly faded.

Every night, we share our most impactful moments, most of which are joyfully-filled highlights. This night, when I shared my experience with Amos, I explained how my mom advocated for me. She kept a log of all the medications I had received, the times, their dose, and when my following pain medication was due. Because of my Ehlers-Danlos Syndrome, I burn through narcotics very quickly, so we alternated medications to ensure I could receive treatment every three hours instead of the traditional six. Every three hours, she made a note of the medicines I had received, the time, their dose, and when my following pain medication was due, and when it was late, she wouldn't waste any time ensuring that the nurses knew I was due.

When I explained this to the team, I began sobbing; a heavyweight I had suppressed all day suddenly emerged. It was tears I couldn't stop or hold back. I didn't realize the magnitude of that moment until then, and as I write this, my eyes still fill with tears.

I don't understand why God allows such pain to ensue, especially for innocent and pure children. Amos didn't deserve this; he should be in school, playing with the other children, and going home to his mother and family. Amos didn't deserve this; his pain directly resulted from the sin and evil that entered the world in the garden. Amos didn't deserve this, and that is why my heart is aching, my soul is mourning, and my mind cannot stop perseverating on this moment.

As I told my mom this story, tears streaming down my face, she replied, "This is where faith comes in." I may never understand why God allows his precious children to endure this, even though I know deep down it is a direct result of the fall. However, I do understand that God uses evil for His glory. Just as God used my experience to advocate for this boy, God will use Amos's experience to further His kingdom and to empathize with others.

Day 4 of Ministry

We are all drawn to the ward; our connections fueled each moment of our trip. We found fulfilling joy in the smiles and conversations with the children of CURE. Day 4 was a day of rest, which many of us chose to spend in the ward. We played with children, held sweet babies, and had deep conversations with mothers and patients that we will forever keep close to our hearts.

The day before, I cried for hours at the pain my heart had experienced in watching Amos suffer, but I also watched another patient endure similar pain that touched close to my heart. Christabel had surgery two days prior and had yet to stand up after her surgery. After an incident that forced her to stand, I watched her brow wrinkle and soft moaning exit her lips, and I assisted the nurses in putting up privacy walls.

At home, I have a nurse named Eliza, who brings me insurmountable joy during each of her shifts. She has watched me come out of several surgeries, and when she can see I’m in pain, struggling to stand after a procedure, she asks, “Do you need help, or do you need space?” This question allows me to ask for privacy without having to ask. This question will enable me to have some control over the situation. This question brings me some weird sense of peace without any reason to have it. So, when I saw Christabel in pain, struggling to stand, I asked, “Do you need help, or do you need space?”

Once again, I relived a bit of my experience as a patient. It was painful because I wanted more than anything to be there for her at that moment, but at the same time, because I knew that moment all too well, I learned to ask, “Do you need help, or do you need space?”

This moment taught me the value of space: space to recover, space to heal, and space for boundaries. On Saturday, we needed space. We needed space to rest after the long week of traveling and serving. We needed space to reflect on the past several days. We needed space to connect as a team to better connect with the child we were there to serve, and despite spending a few hours in the ward, we took time to allow that space to fuel the coming days.

Day 5 of Ministry

Today, I said goodbye to Christabel. It was a bittersweet moment, she was excited to go home and be with the rest of her family, but we were sad to have to say goodbye, likely for the first and final time. On this trip, you connect with people you will never see again. You get attached to people you know will soon go home and continue with their lives.

During one of our reflection meetings, Abby, one of our team members, told us about her aunt and her experience as a foster mother. Throughout Abby’s life, she has watched her aunt devote much of her time and resources to loving and caring for the children that enter her home. Abby’s aunt explained her role in these children’s lives and the pain of being a foster parent. As a foster parent, you love a child, connect with them and learn their story. You spend hours each day being their sole provider, only for them to leave, sometimes never knowing the outcome.

In many ways, the connections we made were similar. We poured our hearts into these children. We learned about their stories, and they learned about ours. We ministered to them, sharing the good news that is the Gospel, only to be spiritually poured into more by them. We made friends with children on the other side of the globe, watched them enter the theatre and recover in the ward only to watch them leave, and likely never know what comes next for them. As I watched Christabel leave, I remembered Abby’s words and advice, “We are here for these children in this moment. We are only here to serve them, love them, and be there for them in this moment.”

Christabel will forever hold a place in my heart. Connecting with a teenager was something I never expected out of this trip, and yet I spent most of my time with her. However, despite the relationship I formed, my purpose wasn’t to save or free her from pain but to serve her, love her, and be there for her in that moment, and that is precisely what I did.

Day 6 of Ministry

The last time I saw Amos, he was in immense pain. My heart bled for him and my inability to do anything to take away his pain. Today, I got to do a craft with him, walk around the property, and talk despite our language barrier. I saw a child who was once in excruciating pain now walk, talk, and smile.

Our final day was bittersweet; as I waved goodbye to the children I had loved and adored, my eyes filled with tears, but on this trip, I got to watch a child through nearly the entire healing process. I saw him before, during, and the rough twenty-four hours after surgery, and I watched him recover to be his joyful self. I got to advocate for this child like my mother advocated for me. I got to sit with this child in pain and distract him with stories. I got to love on this child, weep alongside this child, and be forever moved by the resilience and strength this child obtains.

I wrote Amos a letter in English despite him only knowing his tribal language. In Kenya, the children learn their tribal language as their native language, and most don’t learn English and Swahili until they enter school. However, because of Amos’s accident, he hasn’t gotten to attend school yet. I wrote Amos’s letter in English because I believe he will be able to read it. I strongly believe that Amos will lead a life of resilience and service. One day, when he can read my letter; I want him to know that on the other side of the world, someone believed in his future so much that they wrote a note to him in a language only his future self would be able to comprehend.

Meet My New Friends