Part 2 of Finding Home - Phirst Day in the Pharmacy

For part 1 of this series, Finding Home,  click here. 

      Because our flights had been delayed by four days and our entire trip therefore shortened from ten days to only one week, the medical clinics were set up without delay. Once we'd (hopefully) slept and gone to church, we ate lunch and got to work. Being a first-time experience for many on the team, Dr. Thomas, the ringleader, thought that a clinic on our compound that Sunday afternoon would be a good preview to the work we'd be doing throughout the week. Just a little taste of how it'd go, nothing big...besides, it's not like all of Las Colinas (the batey where we were located) was going to come to our Sunday afternoon clinic--right? 

     There are a two ways to approach getting into a body of water: take it slowly, starting with your toes and gradually getting deeper and deeper till you've reached your mid-waist and then start to doggie paddle, eventually taking larger strokes till you're finally swimming. 

     Then there's what I like to call the Dr. Thomas approach: Jump into freezing water and let necessity teach you how to swim. 

     No one was expecting what happened next...but that is when we lean in on what we can expect: God's continued goodness and kindness towards His children to provide all that we need. Even in the very thick of it, I never felt stressed or overwhelmed. It had every potential of becoming a disaster, and there was one time when I almost prescribed the wrong drug to someone, but God was watching out for everyone. 

    More people came than have ever come to one clinic in all their ten-year history as a medical team. I was put to work in the pharmacy which looked something like this:

      Set up in a schoolroom, we had all the boxes of medications lined up and I had about 5 minutes to get familiar with what was where before we started. I was taught how to count out 30 pills in a pill counter and how to read Doctor's handwriting. Actually, that's a lie. I don't think it's possible for one to read Dr. Thomas' writing. ;) Yet we managed to fill out the prescription cards all the same, and many times I had to refer to Jill, our professional pharmacist, to decode some of the cryptic writings scrawled out on the papers. 

There'd almost constantly be children watching, at times 5-7 would squeeze together to watch. 

I would look up from the whirlwind every now and then to observe multitudes of children peering in through the window and would smile at them.

     Once we'd received the cards with the drugs on them, we filled them out. Next we handed them to Pastor Tanis along with health kits we'd prepared the day before and the required vitamins. He would then stand in the doorway, call out the name of the patient and I would explain the drugs and their dosages while he translated. Seeing their faces, actually being able to smile at them and have that connecting point was what brought me so much joy in the midst of the craziness. It kept me going as the pile of unfilled prescription cards grew and grew. At times, I felt like stopping everything I was doing and just burst forth in song about how much I loved doing this. "I don't know about you, but even in the craziness, this is what I love to do...this is so fulfilling." That's what I would have said had anyone asked me how I was doing. I've always wanted to have a part in medical outreach to others, and here I was, finally doing what I'd longed to do.

The looming stack of prescription cards at the end of the day. 

      Once all was said and done, we'd filled out cards for 250 people. Las Colinas is a very large batey, and they definitely didn't all come out to our little clinic, but those that did come certainly gave us quite the experience.

     Speaking of "experience", Albert Einstein had something to say about it: "The only source of knowledge is experience." We learn from our experiences, but only when we take the time to look at how that experience shaped us, our thinking, our actions, and reflect on what really happened.

So what did, as C.S. Lewis calls experience, "the most brutal of teachers," teach me?

     It taught me that you should always be prepared for the unexpected, but seeing as we can't always be prepared for what we don't expect, what it really taught me was that we have no control over anything that might happen and therefore we must place our trust in the One that does know. No need to worry over what has not yet happened, simply trust in the Lord to provide the strength you'll need in the time that you need it.

     As for how it shaped my thinking, it really showed me the importance of interacting with the people you're serving. Because, though I did on occasion smile and connect with the patients, it wasn't till the next day at a different set up that I was actually able to speak with and be very personable with the patients. Having face-to-face interaction with the people is paramount, because if you don't take the time to know who you're serving, then your serving will be in vain, or at least unfulfilling. Doing it with love, that's what it's all about.

      It was also the beginning of a realization that grew throughout the week: that medical missions is not only a very practical and helpful platform for outreach, but also the very form of outreach that I find to be most exhilarating. I feel fulfilled and no matter how weary I get to be at the end of the day, it brings me life and invigorates me to know that I've served people both physically and spiritually.