malaria. my new 4-letter-word.

Malaria. My new 4-letter word. Actually, the word for malaria in French is paludisme and around these parts we call it “palu”. So literally for us it is a 4-letter word. Palu.

I’ve debated writing a blog post about this for the past week or so. This is not an unusual debate to have, honestly. There are many circumstances and situations and stories that I want to share but the words just aren’t there and I find it’s really difficult to accurately describe what a day looks like around here. Ashley and I joke about it often but for us, this is life. And it’s real. And it’s hard sometimes. And it’s a struggle. But it’s life.

Jon told the kids that now that I’ve had malaria I’m officially in the club. Almost like a right of passage. It was bound to happen sooner or later, let’s be real, but the timing of it all was pretty awful and also pretty wonderful, all at the same time. I have definitely learned a lot through this process. This 4-letter-word illness process.

Jon and Ashley left Benin for a much-needed month long stay in the States during the middle of August. They were returning to Benin the middle of September. To be honest, I was anxious leading up to their departure. I voiced these concerns to Ashley, because let’s be real, I voice everything to her. Driving down the road in her car a few days before they were to leave with a car full of kids I blurted out with a lump in my throat, “I’m scared for the month without y’all here.” She always asks the right questions and says the right things and I felt much better leading up to their departure thanks to both her and Jon’s reassurance. Again to be honest, I was scared. I’ve never been here without them. They’ve lived PLENTY of life and years here without me but I’ve never known life in Sakété, Benin without Jon and Ashley alongside me.

We had multiple conversations. Covered many bases. Mathias was also on his scheduled vacation/time off for the month of August so for the first 2 weeks they were gone much of the daily responsibilities were in my hands. Thankfully Bernard, one of the older boys who has already graduated high school and is currently in university, was going to be here to help. Looking back on this time I honestly don’t know what I would have done without him AND all the kids help. And the other incredible staff members! God really provided just what was needed.

Dropping off the Barchus’ at the airport was difficult. Again, being honest because I can, there were many tears shed on my part and Ashley, who doesn’t cry much, was also crying and after I saw them walk through their first check point I turned around and walked to my car. I know it’s a feeling I’ll never forget. I sat in there for almost 15 minutes, all the while the security guard staring at me like I was an idiot, gaining my composure and praying. I clearly remember praying these words: “God, you know what this next month holds. You know my fears. You know my hopes. I place this month in Your hands. Be with me. Help me. Be with the kids. Help them. And be with Jon and Ashley and their time at home.” And then I drove out of the airport parking lot, meandering the streets of Cotonou at night for the first time by myself. Panic.

Over the next several weeks the kids and I fell into a really nice pattern. No pattern that was different than “normal” but it was nice and I found myself really enjoying my time with them. Of course there were little hiccups along the way, as is typical, but for the most part life carried on and it carried on well. Many administrative tasks fell by the wayside, but all that mattered to me was that the kids were taken care of and felt loved and didn’t lack for too much in their parents absence.

Time was flying by.

Augustin arrived home from his time in Germany.

Mathias arrived back to Arbre de Vie from his time off.

We had one week and mom and dad would be back with Alice and our family would be complete again. They were scheduled to arrive Sunday, September 14^th.

About a week before their arrival, I went to bed Friday night not feeling great. I thought it was exhaustion, of which everyone had warned me about. “You need to get rest.” “You won’t be able to help the kids at all if you get sick.” “Take a day off! Try to relax.” Unfortunately, I didn’t heed these warnings.

I woke up that Saturday morning, September 6^th with an incredible headache. There were 4 boys who had spent the night with me and I was short tempered with them and frustrated with myself for that. Hubert came up to me in my kitchen while I was making them breakfast and asked if I was okay. I smiled and hugged him, “Yes, sweetie, I’ll be fine. I just have a little headache.” He told me to take some medicine and go lay back down. He finished making the bread and drinks for him and his brothers. Sweet angel. He’s the best little doctor.

My headache wasn’t going away but I wanted to go to the orphanage to be with the kids. I already had plans of coming back home early in the evening around dinnertime to get to bed early. I remember the feeling I had walking up to the orphanage that Saturday morning. Something wasn’t right. The Ibuprofen, Tylenol and coffee hadn’t touched my headache and it was a different headache than I’d ever experienced before. We all gathered for lunch and I couldn’t eat anything. With my head between my hands Bernard came up and said I needed to go home and rest. I didn’t want to go home, I wanted to stay at the orphanage so Seraphin said if you wouldn’t go home then at least go lay down in the clinic on the bed and try to get a nap. I did.

I dozed on and off for a good 30 minutes or so but couldn’t ever get comfortable. I became nauseous and also realized I had a fever. I now decided it was best to go home. Should have listened to Bernard…Walking out of the clinic several kids were at a table on the terrace playing cards. They were worried and went to find one of their big brothers when they realized I wasn’t well. I couldn’t drive myself home so I got on the back of the motorcycle and Seraphin took me to my house. He was hesitant to leave me there alone but I took some medicine to help with my vomiting and assured him it would have me asleep in no time and there was no reason to worry. I’d be fine and one of the big boys could come get me later to get my car and I’d be back at the orphanage by dinnertime. I just needed a little sleep.

My car stayed at the orphanage for days.

This was Saturday afternoon and there honestly isn’t a whole lot I remember from entering my home Saturday afternoon until about Tuesday evening.

The kids were with me around the clock. Caring for me. Giving me medications. Cleaning up my vomit. Putting cold rags on me head. Helping me to the bathroom. Forcing me to drink. Spoon feeding me couscous. Searching for food items in town they thought I might eat.

The president of our organization was in Sakété on Sunday and heard that I was ill and came to my house. He is a medical doctor and determined very quickly that I was suffering from malaria and we started treatment that night. I don’t remember much of our conversation but do remember him being there. I remember him sitting on the bed next to me, praying over me. Writing out instructions for the kids to follow and instructions for when to take me to the hospital if necessary. I remember our pastor and his wife coming into my room, laying hands on me, praying for me. My neighbors coming up, sitting beside me, rubbing my back and praying for me. The kids taking turns sitting in the dark room with me, praying each time with me before they’d leave. If I’d move or make a sound, they were by my side immediately, “Tata, do you need anything?” And anytime one of them would come into the house to drop something off, medication, food, etc. they wouldn’t leave without grabbing my hand and praying over me. And I also discovered notes from the kids that had been brought and left on my nightstand every single day. This brought a smile to my face Tuesday night when I finally saw them, of course.

I finally turned a corner Tuesday early in the afternoon and wanted several of the kids to come over so I could see them. Sweet Augustin and Bernard transported them over on the motorcycles and my room was filled with them for several hours. Mathias was sitting in a chair in my room with all of us and I laughed at something one of the kids said or did. He smiled a big smile and said, “I know our Tata is going to be ok now because this is the first time you’ve laughed in 4 days.” Falling asleep on the bed with the kids still in my room and Louise rubbing my legs with everyone still quietly talking, I remember thinking, “Thank you Jesus for letting me laugh today.”

I don’t remember a lot. But I do remember one thing; in a time when I could have felt very alone and afraid, I did not. I remember turning over Sunday night and looking at Viviane, she was sitting there on the edge of the bed just watching me and I could hear my living room full of people. I hadn’t asked them to come, but they did. And to this day, I’m not quite sure who all was in my home. They might have known there wasn’t much they could do and they could have told themselves, “Oh the kids will take care of it all” but they didn’t. They came. They were here. At a time when I could have very easily felt like I had no one, I felt incredibly surrounded by the Lord’s love and His provision through His people.

This Sunday I was catching up on the new series Pastor Craig is doing and watched the first 2 sermons for his new series, #struggles. During his sermon for week 2 on relationships he talked about how there is incredible power in presence and that presence alone speaks so much of love. I know at a time when my family and loved ones in the United States were scared for me and my wellbeing, it was great assurance that those who care and love me here were physically present with me. When my sister called and would talk to Seraphin on the phone, she knew he was sitting right next to me. When my mom called Ashley who was always in contact with those here in Benin, she found great assurance in knowing that those who love the Barchus’ were also physically present here loving me.

I write all this to say, sometimes how you can most minister to someone is to show up. If you can’t be physically present, then let them know you are praying for them and love them by showing up in other ways. Send that message. Shoot them that text. Make that phone call. Just do it. Trust me, you will not regret it and it will minister to the person possibly more than you could ever know. When I got online for the first time in almost a week after being sick and saw my email and Facebook page flooded with prayers for healing and restoration, my heart was overwhelmed with thankfulness.

I sure know it ministered to me incredibly at a time when I needed it. And you can bet your bottom dollar; I won’t be participating in this 4-letter-word sickness anytime again soon. Or at least I pray I won’t.

But, in all sincerity, thank you to those who prayed for me and who continue to pray for me daily. Please keep me, the Barchus’, the children and the staff of Arbre de Vie in your prayers. We love you and we could not do this without YOU. Thank you.

“I thank my God every time I remember you. In all my prayers for all of you, I always pray with JOY because of your partnership in the gospel from the first day until now, being confident of this, that He who began a good work in you will carry it on to completion until the day of Christ Jesus.” (Phil 1:3-6)

When ebola is at your backdoor...

As I tossed and turned last night in my moderately chilly room in Sakété, Benin, unable to sleep with my mind filled with worry over various situations I found myself praying. God, please be with this situation. God, please bring justice in this other situation. God, please bring peace to my friends. God, please give us wisdom to know what to do to best care for the 30 orphans You have put in our charge with Ebola sweeping across West Africa.

To be quite honest, there are many things I anticipated experiencing my first year living in Benin, West Africa. I anticipated struggling to learn a new language. I anticipated having difficulty acclimating to a new culture. I anticipated sweating, a lot. I anticipated being exhausted more often than not. There are many things I anticipated.

But above all the things that I anticipated there was one that topped my list: Love the children and staff of Arbre de Vie and love them well. Period.

Of all the things I could have possibly anticipated, an Ebola outbreak in West Africa with enormous death rates is not something that was even remotely on my radar. But, here it is.

And now what?

As I said, my #1 priority has been and continues to be to love the children and staff of Arbre de Vie and love them well. So what does love look like? Does love look like being filled with anxiety over a virus that has swept and is continuing to spread across countries near us? Does love look like irrationally making decisions without prayerfully seeking wisdom and guidance first? Does love look like packing up all my belongings and going back to the United States until this Ebola epidemic subsides? No. That is not what love looks like when I think about what my number one priority was in coming to this country and volunteering alongside this organization.

For my life and my situation, love looks a lot like staying. I don’t know what lies ahead. Do my eyes fill with tears at times being overwhelmed with the possibility of the unknown? Yes. Does my heart race and do I look over across the table with worried eyes at Ashley and say half-jokingly, “So, I think I might need a Xanax right about now.” Sure! Does my soul ache at the thought of one of these children I love so much becoming sick with this deadly virus and then wondering what I can do to help them in their suffering? Absolutely.

But all of these questions and unknowns don’t change anything in my mind, in my heart and in my soul…I am here to love these children, these staff members and my fellow colleagues. I am here to minister to these people and I know with every single fiber of my being THIS is where God has called me.

And none of this is a surprise to Him, is it? In all my anticipation and questions with preparing to come here and live here He knew all of this was down the road. And He’s already been with me, with us, each step of the way and I know He will not leave us now.

So I will continue on. Loving these children. Loving these people. Serving these children. Serving these people. We will continue to educate our children and our staff on needed precautions for this virus and we will continue implementing procedures at our orphanage to keep those who call Yedidja home safe.

Jon and Ashley have only the children’s best interests in mind at all times and I always support them 100%. We will also continue to support those in ministry alongside us here in Benin. We are blessed with incredible friends and ministry partners and I will always 100% support them and the decisions they make for their families and their ministry. Just as they support us and our family here at Arbre de Vie.

It’s no ones place to judge. So please, instead of asking me to come home or wondering why I don’t “get the heck out of dodge”, pray for me. Pray for guidance. Pray for our kids. Pray for Jon and Ashley. Pray for our fellow missionary friends. Pray that everyone makes the best decision for them and follows boldly after the Lord and what He’s calling them to. Please. You are right here with us. Your love and support is important and incredibly vital in our life and ministry here.

And please pray that Ebola continues to stay at our backdoor because this nasty virus is not welcome at our house and we will continue to do everything we can to keep the door bolted and closed! 

leaving.

I have been blessed to spend over 3 weeks in the States. I came home for my only niece's high school graduation and have thoroughly enjoyed being with my incredible family and seeing a few of my very wonderful friends along the way.

I wrote this blog several weeks ago. I couldn't quite post it at the time...I'm not sure why but I feel like over the past few weeks of "de-briefing" (if you will) and examining my first 4 months in Benin with Arbre de Vie that this seemed appropriate to let those who follow along on this journey be able to read some of what the day-to-day life can look like in Benin, West Africa. It's not an easy life, that's for sure. And looking into today, saying goodbye to those I love dearly and anticipating being reunited with those I also love dearly, it's not an easy thing literally having your heart in two places but just yesterday sitting at Blackie and Nancy's kitchen table I thought, "Man, how blessed am I?" How could I be so lucky to have TWO places to call home? And they both genuinely do feel like home. I may wish that my home in Benin had central air conditioning and hot water, but hey, I guess we won't get into the knitty gritty details, huh?

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Friday, May 2^nd 2014

It’s funny how a week can fly by. Honestly. It’s Friday already and I’m sitting here wondering where this week has gone. On the phone with my mom late last night I had to ask her what day it was. Everything got all mixed up after Tuesday and it’s been a whirlwind since then. As I’m finding most weeks are. Each night I think, “I’ve never been this tired.” And then I catch some much-needed sleep and the next morning feel great and that night I think again…”I’ve never been this tired.” I guess maybe that means we’re doing something right, huh?

“When you feel tired, you remember that I am your Strength; you take pleasure in leaning on Me.”  This was today’s devotional…very timely. God is always right on time, isn’t He?

I try not to speak for Jon and Ashley but I think it’s safe to say that looking into this Friday and the upcoming weekend and reflecting on the past week “tired” may be a good adjective to describe how this group of volunteer missionaries is feeling…

Noel, one of our cook’s sons who calls Arbre de Vie home, has been intensely ill with malaria. I have been battling with such a feeling of guilt for it going undiagnosed due to the fact that I simply thought he had the same viral illness me and 15 of his other brothers and sisters had last week. And we were all seemingly on the mend but Noel was having a little harder time kicking the bug. On Monday night he was up running around, playing and ate some rice for dinner. He was crying Monday afternoon because he wanted to go to school with everyone else. To make a really long story short, he was taken to the local hospital on Tuesday morning and Tuesday night his malaria test came back positive.  His labs were incredibly bad and he needed an immediate blood transfusion for which Jon had to drive 1+ hour away to search for the blood to bring back to the hospital in Sakete for his transfusion. By Wednesday morning he was significantly deteriorated and within a matter of 30 minutes Ashley had him out of the hospital in our small village and in her car to take him to a private hospital that we use  in Porto Novo, Benin’s capital city that is about a 45 minute – 1 hour drive from Sakete.  And by “significantly deteriorated” I mean to say he was near death…

We had another one of our girls with us who was sick with what was presumed to be malaria as well. The treatment had been started but we wanted some bloodwork and she had been at our local hospital waiting to be seen as well but since we were leaving the hospital with Noel for Porto Novo she came with us to be seen and treated at this private clinic. We loaded up into Ashley’s car after meeting at the orphanage after the hospital. Ashley driving. Elisabeth, one of our cooks in the passenger seat next to her. Maman Ruth, Noel’s mom, holding Noel’s feet and his body was draped across Mathilde and his head rested on my lap. It’s been a long time since I’ve seen someone this sick…and my heart was wrecked.

The air at the orphanage was tense and worry filled all the children’s and staff’s eyes as everyone gathered necessary items for the departure to Porto Novo. I was sitting with Mathilde in her room before we loaded up and could hear everyone praying out on the terrace over Noel’s tiny body... “Jesus, I know You are here.” Is all I could keep saying.

The car ride to Porto Novo was silent for the most part. Ashley had on a worship CD and as Mathilde slept on my right arm and Noel lay motionless on my lap Ashley’s words cut the silence, “Is he still breathing?”

My gut twisted…panic filled as I watched him take his next breath. “Yes.” I placed my hand on his head and stroked his cheek, “Jesus, please heal His body. Please allow him to respond to treatment. Please give the doctors and nurses a sense of urgency. Please help him to not suffer. We will give you all the glory Lord. All the glory is yours.”

We got to the clinic and Ashley is well known there…the lady at the front desk greeted her and saw Noel in Elisabeth’s arms. Without even getting his name she ran with Ashley and Elisabeth following her to their intensive care room and they immediately began working on him. I breathed a small sigh of relief, “Thank you Jesus for answering this prayer for urgency on the medical staff’s part.” It is honestly the quickest I have ever seen a medical professional act in Benin.

This was Wednesday and as we all sat in their waiting area, Ashley taking Mathilde to be seen and treated (sidenote: she DOES have malaria…), Maman Ruth, Noel’s sweet mom, finally eating for the first time in days, Ashley searching for blood again in Porto Novo for Noel’s second blood transfusion, sitting next to the bed in the ICU stroking Noel’s hand as he lie motionless in the hospital bed praying for his sick body to respond to the malaria treatment…it all seems like weeks ago at this point today, Friday morning.

I am very pleased to say that he seems to be responding well to treatment and is doing better. Still has a long way to go but he has come a long way since Wednesday. I only write this all out to give glory and praise where glory and praise is due…Thank you Jesus for your healing in this sweet boy’s life. We love you and will continue to fight here for these kids and their wellbeing just as we know you would have us. All the glory is yours for sparing his sweet life and we will praise you always! 

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If you're the praying kind, please be in prayer that the Lord will continue to provide strength and courage for our staff in Benin to keep pressing forward and battling through circumstances just like this one. The Lord's grace is ALWAYS sufficient but I feel like in times like this He provides ABUNDANTLY for our needs: physically, spiritually, emotionally. Please pray that He continues to provide, as He always has and as we are all confident He always will. Please pray that we will continue to seek Him above all other things.

Pray for Jon and Ashley. They are the dad and mom to these children but beyond parenting this group of kids they also carry COUNTLESS other responsibilities and tasks. They need our prayers and I am committed to praying for them always and I am also committed to encouraging others I know to do the same. Will you continue to be in prayer for my friends?

It's been a great few weeks America. Thanks for the luxuries you provide, your wonderful roads, your air conditioning, QuikTrip, Target, and being one of the places on this big earth I call home. 

I'll be back soon but until then, I'll find my home on the red dirt of Africa,

-jillian

moments of joy.

(Saturnin found a mouse...and loved the screams he got from Tata!)

It’s a cool Monday morning here in Sakete. A little rain fell and now a cool breeze has found its way here. It’s quite refreshing, to say the least. I’m sitting in my makeshift office at my house that is now looking more like a home with each passing week. Thanks to the wonderful people here who help me with every little step along the way. Seriously. Such a blessing.

This blog has been rather idle since my transition into life here in January. This weekend marked 3 months of being here in Benin and this is now the longest I’ve ever been here and also the longest I’ve ever been away from the States consecutively. I was thinking this weekend during a sleepless night about why I haven’t blogged much. There is no real answer. Maybe I worry about what people will think…maybe I’m just too tired and worn out by the end of a day to type out my thoughts but over the past week I’ve realized more and more I need an outlet of some sort for my thoughts and experiences to escape my heart and head. I will leave Benin for a short trip back to the States the end of May for my niece’s highschool graduation so until then, I’m committing to being diligent to blogging. Whether it’s something brief regarding my day here or something the Lord has shown me, I want to write out these experiences so I can always hold onto them. And also so they don’t become a big, hot mess inside me.

The past week has been difficult for me. The kids have been sick. I have been sick. I have been tired. And I have been unpleasant to be around on more than one occasion. (Maybe too many occasions to count…) I have been stressed about finances and the difficulties that are the reality of life here. For instance, I needed to turn my car around last night in the market area to head back home to the orphanage after buying antibiotics at the pharmacy and it was the most difficult thing. I could only laugh because I wanted to cry in that instant but I mean, seriously…something as small as turning your car around. And then all I wanted was a cold Coke and no one in town had one…we searched all over the market area. No cold Cokes. I think it’s safe to say any sort of “honeymoon phase” has worn off and some of the realities have come crashing down on me over the past several days.

As I tossed and turned again last night, I pulled myself out of bed this morning determined to make the most out of this day and to focus on the moments that are filled with joy instead of moments that may be filled with frustration. But then I started thinking…shouldn’t all moments be filled with joy? We all have that choice to make, don’t we? To choose joy. I feel like the devil has been using frustrating situations as a foothold in my life to steal my joy. Or more so, I’ve been allowing him to use situations as a foothold in my life to steal my joy. I’m determined this week to not let that happen. To not give him that satisfaction because it’s so ridiculous. What about you? In what ways are you allowing your joy to be stolen? I think so often it’s easy to focus on the situations that overwhelm us instead of fixing our eyes on Christ and His plan.

(Adjoke preparing the maize for the mill.)

As I warmed up my water for my coffee and took a seat at my desk, I opened by Jesus Calling to today’s date, April 28^th. These are some words from today’s devotion: “As you look into the day that stretches out before you, you see many choice-points along the way. I stand beside you, lovingly preparing you for what is ahead.” “I will equip you as you go, so that you can handle whatever comes your way. Trust Me to supply what you need when you need it.”

Will I trust Him?

What do I need from Him right now?

He will supply what I need when I need it…

Today, I am choosing to trust Him and in trusting Him I will find the joy that can only be found in Him. To not look at the circumstances and situations ahead of me that I don’t have answers for…but to trust Him today. And I am praying for continued belief to know that He WILL supply all that I need when I need it. Even if it comes in the form of a cold Coke at the last store we checked last night before heading to the orphanage. It may sound silly, but that Coke was exactly what this Tata needed. And I’m trusting today that He will again provide exactly what I need, when I need it.   

Because of the Lord's great love we are not consumed,

for His compassions never fail.

They are new every morning;

Great is Your faithfulness.

I say to myself, "The Lord is my portion; therefore I will wait for him."

The Lord is good to those whose hope is in Him...

(Lamentations 3:22-25)