Today, I needed a rainbow. I needed to feel like the love and grace that's been showered on me has a bigger purpose and reason. A couple of days ago, I was overwhelmed by how much love surrounds me. How life, through it's challenges and hardships is beautiful. How I've lived every day the way I desire it to be with adventure, joy, happiness, and security. I think of all of this, and I know that the reason-- completely, thoroughly, absolutely-- is because of the beautiful mercy and forgiveness of Christ. It is this beauty that I try to explain. I try to express the amazing love of someone you know will never leave you or forsake you. It is this life that I live, this joy that I know, that I want to share with the world. It is the solution to everything. Christ is the solution to everything.
Today, I received my rainbow. I drove up to the airport to fly a thirteen-day old baby girl to Nairobi, Kenya. This baby girl was suffering from renal failure, high glucose levels, and was on two and a half liters of oxygen. I always ask if the patient is stable before I fly, but what do you do when you are the last option...when the patient is unstable, and you are the only hope they have left? Well, you fly. You do everything in your power to help, and if you've been given wings...use them.
I landed in Nairobi, got out of the plane, and held that sweet baby while I watched the ambulance drive up to where I was standing under the wing. This tiny person in between life and death- struggling to continue the fight to survive. I wanted to do it for her. I held my breath to make sure I heard her little lungs working--I wanted to will her to breathe deeper. After the ambulance left I didn't have time to process or think about about what I was feeling. I went through the motions of running around the airport, flight plan, payments...checking everything off of my list one by one. Finally, after the chaos of Nairobi airport--I was able to fly home.
Back in Arusha, I refueled with jerry cans (and made the security guys help me out) got in the car and started my drive home. It was while I was driving home that I was overcome by an enormous need to cry.
All of a sudden, I was finished. Emotionally drained, heart hurting, thinking of a baby girl who's little face seemed to be draining of life right before my eyes. I can't explain the heartache to see such an innocent baby fight to live. How the threat of death seemed to shadow and creep in all around as I stood under a wing of an airplane holding a beautiful child that was wrapped in a beautiful Tanzanian kanga. This is my job...but it feels like so much more.
I will find out what happens to baby Gianna soon. I will know if she lives or if she dies. I will think of her like I think of so many I've flown, and I will trust that each baby and mama and papa I reach are all placed in my airplane for a reason. I will look at rainbows while I'm flying and always think of how God's grace and mercy is enough to cover all of the worlds sorrows. Though today may be hard...joy always comes in the morning.
Today, I received my rainbow. I drove up to the airport to fly a thirteen-day old baby girl to Nairobi, Kenya. This baby girl was suffering from renal failure, high glucose levels, and was on two and a half liters of oxygen. I always ask if the patient is stable before I fly, but what do you do when you are the last option...when the patient is unstable, and you are the only hope they have left? Well, you fly. You do everything in your power to help, and if you've been given wings...use them.
I landed in Nairobi, got out of the plane, and held that sweet baby while I watched the ambulance drive up to where I was standing under the wing. This tiny person in between life and death- struggling to continue the fight to survive. I wanted to do it for her. I held my breath to make sure I heard her little lungs working--I wanted to will her to breathe deeper. After the ambulance left I didn't have time to process or think about about what I was feeling. I went through the motions of running around the airport, flight plan, payments...checking everything off of my list one by one. Finally, after the chaos of Nairobi airport--I was able to fly home.
Back in Arusha, I refueled with jerry cans (and made the security guys help me out) got in the car and started my drive home. It was while I was driving home that I was overcome by an enormous need to cry.
All of a sudden, I was finished. Emotionally drained, heart hurting, thinking of a baby girl who's little face seemed to be draining of life right before my eyes. I can't explain the heartache to see such an innocent baby fight to live. How the threat of death seemed to shadow and creep in all around as I stood under a wing of an airplane holding a beautiful child that was wrapped in a beautiful Tanzanian kanga. This is my job...but it feels like so much more.
I will find out what happens to baby Gianna soon. I will know if she lives or if she dies. I will think of her like I think of so many I've flown, and I will trust that each baby and mama and papa I reach are all placed in my airplane for a reason. I will look at rainbows while I'm flying and always think of how God's grace and mercy is enough to cover all of the worlds sorrows. Though today may be hard...joy always comes in the morning.
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