This week was nothing less than amazing. Sunday morning we had church in our bedroom, listening to a teaching a speaker did back in Perth last year. It was on the “love and grace of God”. It was when he said- “He enjoys you even when your hair is rumpled in the morning,” that I broke. I sometimes by into the lie that how well I do directly effects how much I am loved. It is this lie that has broken hearts, my own and those of people around me. It just so happened that I was going through a bit of a valley at the time and that revelation was life changing. You see just recently I have realized that God apparently does not reveal all of your faults and short comings as soon as you make the beautiful decision to enter His kingdom. No, He takes His time to work on each one individually, giving them all the time they need to grow, to change, and to heal. The good news is that whatever He was working on last seems to be doing well enough for Him to move on to the next, because I have realized this week that I am angry and unforgiving. (And seemingly prideful as it hurts my stomach to confess such qualities.) But alas, He never reveals then retreats; he reveals then begins His beautiful work of restoration. I have pondered on enduring love this week, as I have felt a great need for it. From my journal…

“Enduring Love. I find that I struggle to understand what that means. And yet, it’s as familiar to me as the sound of my dad’s sneeze, or the smell of my best friend. It’s the type of love that has healed me, heard me, taken hold of me and made me whole. It’s the love that has taken me in my brokenness, picked up my shattered pieces, and carefully put them back together. The pieces don’t fit as they did prior to my brokenness, but the grace in which I was put back together some how makes me more beautiful. I know this because the healer has told me so. He has told me my scars are beautiful. They tell a story. A story of Enduring Love. Not just my own, but one that goes back thousands of years, and effects the whole of man kind. A universal story. My story. Your story. A story of Enduring Love. A story of hope and peace, a tale of courage and passion. A story of Enduring Love. A story that says my scars are beautiful, and worthy. A story of a Father, a Lover, a Brother, a Bride. A story that says your scars are beautiful and worthy too.”

I saw enduring love come to life this week. I saw it save my life. I began in the labour room again this week. I delivered my sixth baby. Joshua Caleb, one of faithfulness, willingness, and trust.
“Thus the Lord used to speak to Moses face to face, as a man speaks to his friend. When Moses turned again into the camp, his assistant Joshua the son of Nun, a young man, would not depart from the tent.” Exodus 33:11.
And I sutured. I decided that I sweat more suturing than I do running eight miles.

Tuesday was spent on the prayer team, and was quite a healing day. I confessed to my dear friends my struggle in realizing that I have no good apart from this God. I am angry, and unforgiving. We prayed, we wept, and the healing began. Teegan said, “He believes in you.” Yes. I believe He does.

Wednesday I was in antenatal, where I did 107 blood pressures; admissions where I inserted an unsuccessful cannula; and the neonatal intensive care unit where I changed miconium covered nappies and held screaming babies.

Thursday, I was back to the labour room. The day began assisting in a delivery. However, the stress level was high as the woman was not progressing. It increased greatly when one of the chiefs of the hospital entered the ward and began yelling at every one saying that we were not allowed to do deliveries, and demanded our letter of approval. It was then that a prayer came to my mind, given to me by a friend of mine. He prayed that I would be “steadfast in the face of adversity.” I thought on that, and I found that the more she yelled, the more tuned in I was to the woman. “The joy of the Lord will be my strength.” The more she yelled, the more joyful I became. She said we could do no more deliveries until she saw the letter. So, I went on to assist the doctors in five more deliveries, with a smile that I simply cannot explain. And I enjoyed myself. I have grown to love the doctors and interns deeply. Slowly but surly they are warming up to us. Watching them soften is almost as amazing as watching a baby be born. It’s actually quite a similar miracle.

After lunch, despite the restrictions put on us, I delivered my seventh baby. Phillip Aaron. I was monitoring a woman who, the doctor told me was in her third pregnancy, at 3 cm, and her water had just been ruptured. Because it was her third pregnancy, I knew she would deliver before 4:00, but I did not imagine that one set of vitals and a few contractions later I would be running for gloves, a birth kit and a staff. I called to Darcy, our school leader, asking for a birth kit and assistance. She tried to find a doctor as well to let them know we would be doing a delivery. There were surprisingly no doctors found in the ward. Which is impossible. I delivered the head with out a guarding pad, or Darcy, both of which came to deliver the rest of the body. But only after we clamped and cut the cord which was tightly around the neck. She didn’t tear. He was beautiful. I was steadfast in the face of adversity, the joy of the Lord was my strength, and I got to deliver my seventh baby, on a day when it was forbidden. This God is good.

Today was Indian Republic day. We were invited to a celebration. We were yelled at yesterday, but today, we were honored, in front of the whole hospital. Yesterday after our small scare, we spoke to a professor that said just that morning she told the students and interns to watch how we interacted with the patients. To watch how we loved deliveries, to watched how we loved the patients. “That’s how you learn, from a passion for what you are doing, not from having your head in a book all day.” The moment we face opposition, we are met with an equally strong sense of acceptance and appreciation. We may do an unsuccessful cannula, we may succumb to a bad attitude when we are too weak to fight it, but- “He enjoys us even when our hair is rumpled in the morning.” I saw that this week. His enduring love. I was saved this week by his unfailing, enduring love.

The joy of the Lord is my strength. It makes me to lie down in green pastures, and leads me beside still waters. It causes me to be steadfast in the face of adversity, and rise up to realize that I am beautiful, capable, loved. I am beautiful despite my scars. I am beautiful because of my scars. I am rotten, unforgiving, and beautiful. And you Beloved, are beautiful too.