“When I said ‘my foot is slipping’ Your love, oh Lord supported me.
When anxiety was great within me, Your consolation brought joy to my soul . . .
But the Lord has become my quiet circle And my God the rock which is my hiding place.”
From Psalm 94
This week I picked up what must be a really nasty viral crud. Two days of being almost completely out of it. After beginning with what I thought might be a bad case of dehydration on Sunday, I’m finally well enough to type and think clearly today.
Throughout this week I have become aware of God’s presence supporting me through people. Here in our culture, when you hear someone is sick . . . You go and visit them. That’s the first thing you do. In fact, I often see somewhat sick people just sitting right outside their door to make visiting nice and easy for those around them. I guess it makes sense in a culture with few forms of entertainment or occupation that don’t require activity.
Throughout this week, Dr. Jennifer included me in her daily rounds, an oasis of comfort in my semi-consciousness (despite the way you pulled on my neck, OW!). Meanwhile, every other American STAYED AWAY!!! Just as I am used to when living in the States, my privacy during my illness was respected. People exercised caution over their own health as well (by not exposing themselves). And by today, now that I am declared probably contagion free, MOST team people seem happy to greet me from a significant distance. On the Bundibugyan side of things, by the time my disease was heating up twenty women from my Bible study showed up in my sickroom, complete with newborn babes to sing with me and pray over me. Neighbors and other friends came too throughout the day to sit in silence nearby, greeting me and watching my clammy face and glazed eyes before praying and departing.
Gotta say, I’m digging the African visiting thing - though I appreciate the cultural traditions of my team. Because when you’re pretty seriously sick having people lay hands on you and pray for you is no small gift.