Humility. Have you ever felt like it’s when you’ve lost yourself completely that you truly find yourself? This week has been one of the hardest, in terms of my mind and heart. I actually only did one day of “Midwifery”, but some how or another, every one of the days held some pivotal moment of humility and brokenness. Last Sunday, I was overwhelmed with a feeling of “doneness”. I was simply done. For those of you who have done “missions” for any length of time will probably know this feeling and understand, for those of you who think I was born to do this, that I eat, sleep and breath to be a missionary in a developing nation, this feeling of “doneness” may surprise you. I do love India, I do love developing nations, but it is hard, and some days the only thing I want in the entire world is to board a plane and fly anywhere west. Fly to places I understand, where things aren’t so difficult, where I don’t see such hard things, where I know the language, and where the weather isn’t as hot as the food that makes me sweat, places more like home.

Sunday I was bombarded with these thoughts, these feelings. As I was going down to get water, I fell down the uneven, slippery stairs- the “Indian stair death trap”. I couldn’t breathe under the pain, and arose from the ground somewhat shocked. I didn’t know what to do, so I walked to the kitchen trying not to cry. The cook (bless her beautiful heart) stopped me on the way and tried to feed me with her hands whatever on earth she was eating. I kindly declined, fighting back the tears that so desperately wanted to leap out from my eyes. My back and my shoulder seemed to be groaning in pain themselves as I tried so hard to stop the signals to my brain that I had just fallen down the stairs. I walked slowly, shocked, back to my room. As I opened the door the flood gates opened and I began to cry. “I fell down the stairs…” I told my roommates, probably in somewhat of a pathetic whimper. When I said it, I cried even harder as my pride was almost as bruised as my back. Thoughts began to overwhelm my mind, thoughts of home, of giving up, of foolishness, and embarrassment, hopelessness and pain. We looked at the damage, I had two stair size marks the length of my back on my lower and upper back, both swollen, with patches of broken skin on the top bit. Everyone else went out to dinner that night, I stayed home.

Monday I was supposed to be in Admissions, but as walking was a difficult chore, I stayed back on the prayer team. I was somewhat refreshed, as I poured my heart out in prayer for this city, for the hospital, for this nation. In my prayers, I remembered why I was here. I was filled. I felt the grace of God wash over me.

Tuesday Michaela’s mom (visiting from B.C. Canada), Michaela and I were supposed to go on a house visit, but the man who planned to come to pick us up didn’t come. I ended up talking to our translators for about an hour, finding that I was falling in love with Indians again. We were able to discuss, and laugh at the very things I find so frustrating in this country. Laughing is sometimes the most powerful medicine. There is perspective in laughter that you cannot find in anything else. Because the house visit didn’t work out, Michaela’s mom took us to a fancy Italian restaurant in the “nice” part of town, and I had the nicest, most western meal I’ve had in six months. I felt God’s grace washing over me. After lunch we went and bought saris for woman in the slums, then went back to Bev’s hotel and drank tea in an AIR CONDITIONED room. As I sat there I felt God’s grace wash over me; a small break from the madness. That evening we celebrated becca’s 25 birthday at a park near the lake, played games, played with water balloons, and ate Subway.

Wednesday I was on prayer team again, but had to accompany Darcy to a meeting, and ended up making 13 welcome cards for the Discipleship Training School that just arrived from Perth. I was lost in the art of card making, and felt the grace of God was over me. That evening I was humbled again by a avoidable miscommunication. Broken in ways words couldn’t express fully. Humbled, fully and completely broken. I wept under the weight of humility, under the raw feeling of brokenness. When I felt as if I could not grow any worse as a person, becca and Hollie prayed for me, a prayer that blessed me, and healed me. As they prayed I felt the grace of God wash over me. I felt it as well as later that night when Michaela invited me to say in the hotel with her for the last night. As the warm water washed over me in my first real shower in four months, it felt as if it was the love of Jesus washing over me, reminding me that I am forgiven, reminding me that I am loved no matter the circumstance, reminding me that he is faithful.

The next morning in our prayer and worship time we have every morning, I broke. I broke under the mix of brokenness, humility, healing, love, and faithfulness that had so bombarded me. I wept and I wept as I prayed out the faithfulness and worthiness of my beautiful Saviour. In the midst of the tears and the prayers I felt as if I had lost myself completely in the presence of this amazing God. However, in loosing myself, I found myself. This is who I am, broken, humble, desperately in love, and simply undone. This is who I want to be, forever. This is who I am so far from being much of the time, but who I want to be.

Thursday I delivered babies 19, and 20. Samson David, and Adam Aften. I have now delivered 20 babies. It was a day confused with joy and sadness. I assisted with two IUDs, (Intrauterine deaths), delivering babies words could not describe even if I wanted to attempt it. As we delivered the second one, horribly deformed and macerated, I remembered humility. I remembered my own weakness as this broken child was birthed into the world lifeless. In the face of such a brutal reality, nothing and everything makes sense. All I could do was lean on the strength I’ve learned this week I am desperately dependant upon. Samson and Adam, my saving graces, beautifully perfect baby boys. Life in the face of death. The madams asked me to do more that afternoon than they have asked me to do in the three months we’ve been working there. Despite the fact that I was somewhat overwhelmed, drawing medicines, changing IVs, drawing blood… it felt good to be trusted, it felt good to finally feel like a team. I remembered when we were told we could only observe, and I was overwhelmed by the faithfulness of God.

Friday we did an orientation with the DTS that just arrived from Perth. About all of them are between 17- 19, fresh faced, just out of high school, and about the cutest things you’ve ever seen. We shared about our city. As we shared I began to realize that Hyderabad really has become my home. I’ll have lived here longer than I’ve lived anywhere since May 2005. Despite my “doneness”, I unknowingly have made this place my home. In humility and brokenness, I realized that He is worth every moment. He is faithful, He is good. He is worthy of every knee bowing, every tongue confessing, in every tribe and in every nation that He is Love, He is Life, He is God.