Shama

I look at the calendar with a sense of dread. In just two weeks, Shama will be leaving. Her unexpected early departure being due to a serious illness of her father, I do not begrudge her in the least an early departure, but the thought of being the only medical person here in the mountains does add a great deal of responsibility.

Not only am I losing a valuable nurse, I am also losing the only person in the world who can relate step-by-step what it has been like to be transplanted into the middle of the jungle where no one understands you, where you take cold showers every day, eat weevils, and trust God implicitly for every next step. 

I’ve been so blessed to spend the last five months with Shama and I am going to miss her sorely during the remainder of my stay here (until mid-November)! Just a few things we’ve experienced together:

• -          Arriving in the middle of the night in Puerto and experiencing our first drive in a trike at night
• -          A wild and speedy ride from Puerto to Brooks Point (where I became thoroughly car-sick)
• -          Our first hike into the mountains
• -          Sitting awkwardly around a smoky fire near someone’s hut, trying desperately to learn the language
• -          Our first hike up to Emrang
• -          Our first day of teaching in Palawano (oh my, how scary!)
• -          Frying geckos
• -          Running the clinic, getting up with inpatients in the middle of the night, being woken up for emergencies
• -          Making friends
• -          Laughing and arguing about how to dig weeds
• -          Sleeping on bamboo floors

These and many other things I’ll miss reminiscing about and experiencing with Shama. But as I’ve learned over the past five months, God doesn’t allow anything to happen that wasn’t for the best all along.

Although we don’t understand all the reasons now for the meanwhile she’ll go home and I’ll stay here; but when we look back at the end of our time here on earth, (perhaps just as we are lifting off with the cloud of angels) we’ll see why. And then we’ll sing with all the others, but maybe Shama and I will sing in Palawano, “My God, how great Thou Art!” (Ama’ Empu, mebasag Ke!)