Life With Limitations: A Day of “Not Enough”

Today was our first day working in communities, and for those of us who have been here before, we always know that it will be a day full of conflicting emotions. The community we visited was large – well over 200 people. I worked in the pharmacy, which is one of my favorite jobs, and throughout the day I found myself thinking with sadness about how limited I am.

People come from all over the community – i.e., all over the mountain side – to visit the medical brigade. Sometimes they wait all day to catch a ride with someone, and sometimes they walk for an hour to get there. Sometimes they come alone, and sometimes they bring an entourage of children and family members. They all come with a specific purpose: they want to see a doctor and get medicine.

We had three doctors available today to see patients, and yet that wasn’t enough. Maybe half of the people that came through the brigade got to see a physician. The brigade itself is beneficial, because the people receive anti-parasite medicine, get vitamins, receive reading glasses if they need them, and have their blood checked for anemia. But really, the people want to see the doctor. There was a nurse helping out at the beginning of the stations, trying to identify which of the people truly needed to be examined, but of course, many people were disappointed. And we thought, “We just don’t have enough doctors.”

The doctors themselves had disappointments. They identified people with pneumonia, and knew that these people needed more serious, long term care at a hospital, but they also knew that in spite of the referral, most people would not be willing or able to go. Sometimes they don’t have the money, sometimes they don’t have transportation, sometimes they have a family who is unsupportive or a spouse unwilling to allow them to be gone from the home. In spite of the mobile pharmacy, there are conditions and medications and tests that are simply not available to the physicians during the brigade, and they have to watch as people walk away, knowing they will not receive the care and attention they need. And we think, “We just don’t have enough help available.”

Before the trip this year, we all knew that we would be short on gifts and donations. Because of so many people coming for two weeks and the way the available suitcases worked out, we had far less space for bringing donations and far less money to buy them. During the brigade, the donations table ran out of Bibles and ran out of gifts, and still there was a line of people waiting to come through. And we thought, “We just don’t have enough resources.”

And there was a dog. There was this dog that broke my heart, and it was kind of the straw that broke the camel’s back. Most of the animals here are too thin and look unhealthy, but this one was especially mangy and had a broken leg. It kept coming in to the room where we were eating lunch, hoping for a crumb or a scrap. I wasn’t hungry (even before I saw the dog), so I was just picking here and there at my baleada. (Tortilla with beans, eggs and cheese.) With the people in the community, I see and know how much some of them need, but I have the power to help them. It might be temporary and it might be just a little bit, but I can do something for them. I cannot do anything for that poor, malnourished, crippled, nursing dog. I couldn’t even toss it the crust of my tortilla. We were in an open area, and there were children and adults gathered around waiting to see the doctor; they could see everything we did. And I knew that I couldn’t feed that dog my crust when there were children watching who were hungry themselves. And I almost cried.

So it’s easy, when we consider all of these things bombarding us in a day, to get frustrated and feel like our efforts are futile. We don’t have enough. We can’t do enough. We are not enough.

And then I stop, and I remember.

We are not enough. But God is enough.

When we agree to be his hands and his feet, his voice and his heart, we allow his power to work through us. We see only a portion of the picture. We only do one bit of the work. We pray that the people of the Lord will respond to his call for workers, those who are willing to be both hearers and doers of the word, and that others will come to continue the work which we have started. We ourselves have come to continue the work that others before us have started.

And then, suddenly…we are enough, because God is enough.

So before I leave for the night, I do want to post some pictures and share some highlights of our day. It was full, and challenging, and wonderful at the same time. (Also, disclaimer: I did not take a SINGLE picture today. I was too busy. These pictures were all taken by our team leader, Angel.)

The drive there was more than an hour and a half, literally up and down a mountain on a washed out gravel path with hairpins turns. But the view was amazing.

We passed a couple of boys on horseback and stopped to ask them if they would let us take their picture. They agreed, then one of our team gave them a couple suckers, which they accepted. And I thought, “I wonder if their parents taught them not to take candy from strangers.”

When we got there, we prayed with the community before we began the brigade. For the first time, the community joined in! MAMA Project has worked in this community before, but this was the first time for our team. When Mary, our fearless leader, said the prayer in Spanish, nearly everyone in the crowd began praying with her. The team members all looked at each other in wonder. It was an amazing experience!

The stations portion of the brigade consists of blood pressure, hemoglobin test (to check for anemia), vitamins and deworming medications, reading glasses and donations.

Working in the pharmacy, I gave out a lot of medication. There are many, many people who receive pain relievers like aspirin and ibuprofen.  There are also other over the counter medicines available, and a lot of prescriptions medications as well. Some people come through and need only one or two basic items – things we normally stock in our medicine cabinets at home, but it may be the only time they have access to it for weeks or even months. Other people come through and have five or six or even more medicines that they need.

And the highlight of my day: there was one paper, a paper that made me so happy. It was for an infant girl asleep in her mother’s arms. The medicine checklist was blank, and the note said, “Healthy 5 month old baby.”