Pondering the Burning Bush

We are apparently deep in the throws of meningitis season as today brought too many children with stiff necks, fevers, headaches.  Lumbar punctures were done.  Antibiotics were started.  Nurses were hounding and hounding to discharge patients to make room for the new ones as they kept filing into the ward one right after the other.  I was frustrated, overwhelmed even. 

Then I received a call from OB/GYN stating that they were going to do an emergent C-section.  Mom had severe pre-eclampsia (bad hypertension, risk of seizures…definitive way to treat is get baby out!), but the child, while term, had multiple cystic abdominal deformities and renal anomalies on fetal ultrasound…this was not going to be a routine STAT C-section. 

So it’s now 7pm on Wednesday night and I find myself, after a hectic day treating really sick kids, standing in the OR going over my checklist of things I need for neonatal resuscitation, getting the table set, the intubation equipment ready.  I really wasn’t sure how the baby would do.  Prenatal care is so limited here…we can only tell so much on ultrasound.  The real test is life outside the womb!  As the OR staff also prepares, I remember leaning my back up against the wall just praying for peace for me and the rest of the staff, peace for the mother who had already lost 2 previous pregnancies, and above all, praying for the baby that it would thrive despite whatever I could do. 

The mother was cut, the baby came out, alas with the multiple deformities that we were expecting.  There was no cry, no spontaneous breaths.  We quickly worked to intubate and ventilate.  Chest compressions were started.  Epinephrine was pushed.  We worked on the child for about 30min before I pronounced death.  We did everything we knew to do.  And I could be at peace with that.  It was still so hard showing mother her child and being witness to the pangs of grief that gripped her. 

I didn’t cry…I usually don’t or can’t…it would be too hard to endure in this kind of environment if I lost composure for every child that passes or every kid I see in pain that I can’t fully help with my medical expertise or the tools afforded me here.  But inside, I was grieving.  And it made me question again my calling to come here. 

Not that I am doubting, just questioning, wondering why God chose me.  Will His purpose of bringing me here be made fully clear?  Am I really making much of a difference?  Am I really touching and saving lives?  …It’s hard to see Him through all the death sometimes.  I thought I was coming here to find more intimacy with Jesus, but instead of fullness of His presence, I am feeling a lot of heavy heartedness.  I guess God speaks volumes in times of tragedy or hurt, at least that is how the old time saying goes.  A friend of mine once said that God rarely calls the qualified, but rather He qualifies the called, and I forget from where she got that quote.  I don’t feel qualified to be here, I’m not even going to pretend that I do.  I am beginning to identify with Moses at the burning bush, one of the best examples of God empowering the most unlikely of candidates (Exodus 3 & 4).  Surely with Him we can do all things (Philippians 4:13) and apart from Him we are nothing (John 15:5).  As a testament to Him, the Lord has never left me nor has He forsaken me, and He continues to provide all that I need. 

The questions I am asking myself and asking God are similar questions we all ask in the usual humdrum and challenges of life, whether it be from a new exciting environment in some obscure corner of the world or whether from the comfort of our own homes and all that’s familiar.  My prayer for myself and for all of us in 2017 is that we all seek to walk humbly before the Lord Jesus Christ, trusting in His guidance despite our lack of understanding in whatever circumstances He brings our way.  Surely God’s ways are not man’s ways
(Isaiah 55: 8 & 9), and that’s exactly what makes Him God, to be revered and worshipped. 

Ecclesiastes 12:13

Warmest greetings in 2017 and beyond!