Salama from Mada!

Salama means "hello" in the Malagasy language... So, hello from Madagascar! 

I've been here for 10 days and so much has happened already!

I arrived into Antananarivo (Tana) late last Thursday evening with a large group of Mercy Shippers. The airport was tiny - it took us all close to 3 hours before we made it through customs and found our bags. There were about 30 of us who had to stay in Tana for a few days awaiting the ships arrival. Antananarivo was very different from my previous experience in South Africa, which I jokingly refer to as,"Shiny Africa." The city center sits on a large hill surrounded by green rice fields, red soil & small, brightly colored huts. There really is something beautiful about it, but it's also impoverished in a way I have never seen before. When we were riding through town in taxis, the sweet pot-bellied children would run along our car asking for money and yelling "Vazaha! Vazaha!" (meaning: white person, white person). We all really struggled with the overwhelming need we saw as we ventured through Tana. It was difficult to process, but I think it was important to see. I realized that it will be really helpful to have a bit of an understanding of what life might be like for my patients.

Though tourism is essentially non-existent in Tana, we made a point to leave our guest house and explore a bit. We tried a couple Malagasy restaurants, ventured to a lemur park, visited the queen's palace and attended a local church service (Africans sure do know how to put on a good worship service!). Although we were all antsy to get to the ship and get started, this extra time ended up being a huge blessing. I had some time to rest after those long flights and really enjoyed getting to know some of the wonderful people I have the privilege of working alongside.

Our bus left for Tamatave - the city where the Africa Mercy is ported - early on Monday morning. It took 11 LONG hours to get here, but we made it safely into port just before sunset. I cannot tell you how excited I was when we rounded the corner and I got my first glimpse of the ship. It is surely a moment I will treasure forever. I snapped this photo quickly on my first walk up the gangway...

This first week has been chocked full of nursing orientation. We got a bit of a late start with the delays, so everything has been condensed into a shorter orientation period - trust me when I say we have hit the ground running, our days have been quite full. It's an enormous task to bring nurses together from all over the world and get them all on the same page - we've gone through hours of meetings on policies and procedures and unit norms. One thing that Mercy Ships values is providing a high standard of care and that has been very evident in all of our education and training this week. I've truly been impressed!

On Thursday we spent the day setting up the hospital. Everything was packed away and covered with dust from the sail, so we spent the whole day cleaning the wards from floor to ceiling, getting everything stocked and prepared for our patients. Just a little glimpse of our progress below...

On Friday, it was our turn as nurses to provide an orientation to other hospital staff members. Mercy Ships employs hundreds of local Malagasy people to serve as translators, housekeepers, kitchen staff, etc. We had a blast getting to know them and teaching them about the hospital. They graciously taught me a few Malagasy words and quickly laughed at my horrible mispronunciation... it's a work in progress, people.

{A few of my team members on cleaning day}

I've been placed on A-Ward where I will be caring for patients from general, plastic and orthopedic surgical services. I'm really excited for the diversity of patients I'll get to work with during my time here. The diseases and conditions treated by Mercy Ships are those found in abject poverty... we don't see a lot of them in the U.S. so I'm sure that I will learn a ton! The first patients will be admitted to the wards tomorrow and surgeries start on Tuesday - I could not be more thrilled to get started!

{The wonderful A-ward team after day crew orientation}

I have LOVED my time here so far. To be sure, there has been a lot to adjust to: 2 minute showers, living in a tiny cabin with 5 other people, learning French/Malagasy, experiencing a bit of culture shock, etc. With all that being said though, it has been incredible to experience the body of Christ pulling together in a common purpose to bring hope and healing to the Malagasy people. Anyone who knows me knows that I love nursing, but I can honestly say that I have never felt as passionate about it as I have here... and the patients haven't even come yet! Throughout this week the leadership team has charged us with the idea of nursing as worship - in caring for people recovering from life-changing surgeries, we get to tell them about the true Healer who loves them and in whom all hope and life is found. How incredible is that?!

To them God has chosen to make known among the [Malagasy people] the glorious riches of this mystery, which is Christ in you, the hope of glory. - Colossians 1:27

Points for prayer this week

• Pray for the hospital as we begin operations this week. Pray that everything will go smoothly with the procedures, nursing care, scheduling and equipment.
• Pray that patients and families will see God through us... that despite language and cultural barriers we will communicate God's love. Pray that they will find the true source of hope and healing.
• Pray for unity and grace among the staff as we learn to live and work in tight community on this ship

Sending love across the miles,

Jarah

p.s... If you're interested in sending mail while I'm away, here's the 4-1-1

Letters, packages, etc. will be forwarded regularly to the ship. Address all mail as follows...

Jarah Nordin

Mercy Ships AFM

Crew Mail

P.O. Box # 2020

Lindale, Tx 75771-2020

U.S.A.

A couple additional points to keep in mind...

It can take several weeks for mail to reach me in Madagascar. 

I will be charged $8.80/pound for all items shipped to me (think light!)

Bon Voyage!

I'm currently sitting in a quiet airport corner in gray, rainy Paris, just about half way through my long journey to Antananarivo. I've been awake for way too many hours, so excuse me if I ramble on a bit longer that usual today.

Since I wrote last, Mercy Ships has delayed sail to Madagascar twice for unforeseeable complications, which has honestly caused a bit of anxiety on my end. I've been continually reminded of how much is outside my control and am praying daily for God to increase my faith and trust in this journey. There is a great leadership team that's been tirelessly at work to get us to port in Tamatave as quickly as possible. It looks like we should be boarding the ship by September 1st. Until then, I'll be housed in the capital city with many of my fellow MS volunteers.

It's hard to believe this day is here. After months of planning & years of dreaming, I am finally en route to Madagascar to work with Mercy Ships (somebody pinch me). Over the past few days, I think I've gone through what seems like every emotion imaginable. I've done everything I know to prepare and now all that's left to do is, well, do this thing. There is so much unknown about what lies ahead - it's intimidating and scary and bursting with possibility.

The past few months have been a whirlwind: graduating from NP school, preparing for & taking my board exams, quitting a job I loved, backpacking through Europe, taking a cross country road trip, moving back to SLC, interviewing for NP jobs, signing on a big dotted line, saying goodbye to my sister and brother-in-law as they moved to Chicago, and now jetting off for 4 months to live and work on a floating hospital ship in Africa! Oofta! As fun and amazing as all that has been, there has been a lot of transition in my life in a relatively short period of time. To be candid, these last few months have left my head and heart reeling a bit. Recently I've found myself thinking, "God, I just don't know if I'm ready for this. I don't know if I can handle another big change." And He continues to press back, "Jarah, do you believe that I'm enough for you? Trust me, take this step and trust me." So that's what I'm doing... Fully recognizing that none of us ever feel ready for something as big as this, I'm stepping out in faith and trusting the One who promises to walk with me.

Again, I just wanted to say how incredibly grateful & humbled I am by the lavish support I've received in preparation for this journey. For all of you who have prayed for me, contributed financially, offered wise words or timely encouragement, I thank you from the bottom of my heart. I am honored that you would join me in this work!

Until next time,
Jarah

Thank you!

Y'all. I'm so happy and humbled to report that I am 100% funded for my upcoming venture with Mercy Ships. A BIG thank you to each and every one of you for your support. I am unspeakably grateful!

A quick note, any donations from this point forward will go toward the Mercy Ships organization - helping to bring hope and healing around the world!

Again, thank you a million times over!

Halfway There!

Happy Friday, Y'all!

Just dropping in to celebrate being over halfway in the fundraising process for Mercy Ships! I've lost track of the number of times I've checked my donor page and immediately burst into tears at the outpouring of love and generosity on your part.

Thank you a million times over.

the next adventure // mercy ships

It has been over a decade since I first heard about Mercy Ships at my home church in Salt Lake City, Utah. As the Mercy Ships volunteer presented his stories and pictures, my young heart was totally captured with the idea of venturing overseas to serve people in need. I remember leaving that night thinking, "I'm going to go on that ship someday." At the time, pursuing medicine was just a faint idea amongst many other brewing possibilities. Throughout my college career it became clear that nursing was the path for me and I always hoped that I'd be able to use the knowledge and skills overseas.

As many of you know, I've spent the past 4 years living in Durham, North Carolina. My time here has been full of so many wonderful experiences. I have absolutely cherished my role as a nurse in the pediatric bone marrow transplant unit and, most recently, the pediatric float pool. It’s truly been a joy to walk with patients and families through some of their deepest victories and heartaches. As much as I try, it’s difficult for words to fully explain how much I’ve learned and what an honor it has been to work with these brave kids.

Just a few weeks ago, I also graduated from Duke with a master’s degree in family nursing practice. Graduate school is one of the best and hardest things I’ve done. I’m excited to step into the role of a nurse practitioner, but before I do that, God has challenged me to use the gifts and talents he’s given me as a medical professional to serve His kingdom. Now is the time! After an intense season of preparation, I’m looking forward to serving with Mercy Ships in Tamatave, Madagascar from August - December of this year. I could not be more excited to live and work on this floating hospital ship!

Mercy Ships has been operating a fleet of hospital ships in developing countries since 1978. Following the 2000-year-old example of Jesus, Mercy Ships brings hope and healing to the forgotten poor, mobilizing people and resources worldwide. Mercy Ships relies on a team of volunteer crew members who pay their own room and board, travel and personal expenses while serving.  This allows general Mercy Ships donations to be used for direct patient care, community development programs and other costs associated with its Field Service initiatives. From doctors to nurses, engineers to deck hands, housekeepers and teachers, everyone serves as a volunteer. I will be working as a pediatric ward nurse onboard the ship where I’ll be caring for surgical patients who’ve undergone maxillofacial and orthopedic procedures.

Since Mercy Ships requires that I raise 100% of my support, I will need to raise $6,500 by July 31, 2015 to fully meet my needs. I invite you join me on this journey by supporting me through prayer and, if possible, through financing. If you would like to partner with me in this endeavor you can give a tax-deductible gift by clicking HERE to link to my fundraising webpage.

OR, If you prefer, you may also write a personal check to Mercy Ships - please write my full name & designation code (#4027) in the memo line and mail to the address below:
     Mercy Ships
     P.O. Box 1930
     Garden Valley, TX 75771-1930

Thank you for your time and prayerful consideration of partnering with me in this exciting new venture. I appreciate your prayers and support in this work and look forward to sharing stories with you along the way (check back often for updates or subscribe via email on the right sidebar).

Love and blessings,
Jarah

Hello, old friend

I'm dusting off the shelves of this old blog today.

For a season, this was a creative and open space for me. Nearly three years ago I pulled Bright Red Cords from public view. Like many of you, I've taken a step back from various social media platforms that I initially plunged into - blogging being one of them. At the time, I had grown weary of blog culture and felt that I was simply adding to the noise. It seemed that every blog I followed was written by a gorgeous crossfit-doing-coupon-clipping-book-writing-clothes-styling-cupcake-baking-bible-memorizing-home-schooling-essential oil-selling freelance photographer who wrote about their extraordinary "ordinary" lives. And, well, it became exhausting. I decided to bow out, frustrated by the lack of authenticity and desperately looking to escape the endless comparison trap.

Therein lies the struggle with social media: though constantly in contact with others, we feel lonely and abandoned and painfully unknown.

With that being said, I still follow a good number of blogs and have discovered a lot of valuable, life-giving content. In no way am I slamming bloggers. If anything, I want to encourage you. Write. Do your thing and do it well. I've had to wrestle with the tension and role of social media in my life and I hope you have too.

I don't intend to keep this blog rolling for long. Honestly I questioned whether or not to start it up at all, but I am headed out for another adventure abroad and this has proven to be one of the best routes of communication. I hope to utilize it to keep my friends and family updated as I spend the latter half of this year in Africa [more details on this soon].

More and more, I desire to live a honest, quiet and deeply rooted life. I don't care to reach the blogosphere or gain a following of strangers. I don't want to be motivated by likes or shares or pins. If you choose to follow along, I ask that you do so only if these words and stories are an encouragement to you. If my words make you feel weary, for whatever reason, please bow out. I've been there and I understand. Go spend your time on connections that are life-giving for YOU. I want you to live a good story. Thanks for following along as I seek to live mine out with integrity and courage.

“You either walk inside your story and own it, 

or you stand outside your story and hustle for your worthiness.” 

-Brené Brown

Lord, help me in my unbelief

From week to week, I never really know what to expect when I walk into work. Sometimes it seems that for weeks on end, I witness life and victory and joy. And then there are other times, weeks like this one, where everything seems to be plagued with bad news and heart ache and death.

Last week, I received an email from the family of a little girl I'd taken care of months back. They invited me to come celebrate her birthday and honor her life with them this weekend. I've been meaning to sit down and write them a letter - just to let them know how much their sweet daughter meant to me and allow them see more of what my grieving process looked like after she passed away. I knew this occasion was the perfect time for me to give them this letter - after the intimate time of loss they shared with me, I felt like I owed them this. As I sat down to start, I quickly realized why I've been avoiding it for so long. I have relived so many of the same emotions I felt 6 months ago as she lost her battle with a terrible auto-immune disease. The wound was reopened, and I was reminded that I don't get to tell God when I am healed.

Another family brought gifts and cupcakes up to the unit in honor of their son's birthday. As I watched the kids open trucks and transformers and train sets, I could not help but think about how much that sweet boy would've loved to be there. I thought about the many nights we played trucks on the floor. I thought about his gusto and life and how I watched leukemia steal all of that way from him. His parents' eyes were dark and sunken, they too look like some measure of life had been stolen from them. And once again, I felt a wound reopen. I snuck away to the bathroom cry my tears and pull myself back together.

Then on Monday, I came into work to terrible news about one of my little dudes. The virus that he's been fighting for months is spreading rampantly in his body. Doctors are out of answers, and so am I. I met his mom in the hallway, she grabbed my hand, lead me to his bedside and we knelt there together. We prayed and wept and plead for his very life.

As I sat in my Pediatric Advanced Life Support class yesterday, I could not help but think about the irony of it. There I was, in a classroom learning how to save lives, while at the same time walking with yet another family, another precious child, and am watching him lose his life. This week has been sobering. It's been a good reminder that as nurse, life is really not in my hands. Life belongs to God. The question I'm wrestling with today is this: Do I still believe in a God who intervenes, in a God who cares? Is my hope in a medical prognosis or in Jesus? Do I still believe that he can do miracles? There is a little voice inside that is able to squeak out a small "yes," but I fear that voice is being quieted by the loss and hurt and death I've seen. I fear that the number of times I've dared to hope - and have left disappointed with bitter grief - have started to pile up and harden my heart. And so my cry today is this: God, help me in my unbelief. Give me faith. Give me more of you.