These narrow streets are not line with trees, but with men smoking sheesha, bickering, laughing. The sun does not set over the sea, but over the pyramids and masques. I have found that my love for this place grows deeper with time. And possibly experience. I found myself broken this week, as I thought about our King, and how He dwells with the sick, the hungry, the weary, the lost. He is a good King.

This week we prayed we would find the house of the woman who gave birth last week. Some girls felt like they were to go down this street, turn right here, go left there, they tramped through ankle deep rubbish, past bunking bulls, busy Arabs. Finally, an old woman approached them, beckoning them to enter a certain house. Knowing you never turn down an elderly Arab woman, they followed, only to find the woman we helped labour and deliver last week. He is good. The next day I returned with them, just to find a different elderly Arab woman leading us to the same house. I recognized this woman though, as the mother of another woman that delivered that day. This one by C-section. Amazingly, she lived in the same building as the woman who birthed naturally. They are married to brothers. He is good. We visited both woman, and got to teach on breast feeding, post pardom depression... He is good.

We spent the rest of the week at a Sudanese Refugee camp, doing antenatal checks, and teachings on Nutrition. The first day I worked along side the doctor, who gave me quite a bit of freedom; leaving me, at one point, for a long time to care for the patients on my own. I felt a bit like I was heading up stream without a paddle, or even a stick to guide me, but at the end of the day, I found a confidence in my skills that I lacked before. The next day was the same, I was teamed up with a staff member who did the paper work, while I took the blood pressure, weight, checked for anemia, oedema, measured fundal height, palpated to see the position of the baby, and checked the fetal heart rate. It was a busy day, as soon as you were finished with one patient, another would peek her beautiful dark face through the door, followed by her colorfully adorned, thin, pregnant body.
Sudanese women are utterly breathtaking. Ages 17-35, scared, broken, happy, hopeful. I saw my first female circumsision. It was all I could do not to weep. I don't understand. Many spoke of "falling" knowing their story would not sufice. One woman we saw "fell" the week before and was having contractions, delivering a baby that had died days before. She told herself it was the baby moving. I pra.y for her healing. I looked at charts and charts of still borns and babies dying at 2-3 months old. I was broken. These women wear a strong exterior, but there hearts bear the scars of poverty, war, pain and injustice. It is now I must rememeber, He is good. Despite the hustle and bustle of the clinic, at one point during the day I realized what exactly I was doing. I was in the Middle East, doing antenatal check ups on Sudanese refugees. A place I've dreamed of for years, doing something I've long to for years, with a people group I've fought for for years. For a moment I was paralyzed, overtaken my the goodness of my King. His faithfulness, His mercy. A dream made real by a beautiful King.

2 Peter 1:3-11
We love because He is worthy. We live because He is life. We hope because there is more. We serve because He loves all, and calls all worthy of love. Even the undeserving. Even they, deserve to be loved. Even a wretch like me, deserves love. That is why I love, that is why I love, and that is why I believe in such a King, and pledge my allegiance to this beautiful Kingdom. Blessings.
Bessma

These are two of the three babies I saw delivered last week.