Every Prayer

My alarm went off at 4:30 am and I pushed snooze just once before dragging myself out of bed. I was looking forward to Friday, but also dreading it. As I closed my eyes, I knew what lay ahead for the day so I prayed for the nine minutes of “snooze”. I could imagine just a two hours north of Lome, in Assahoun, hundreds of Togolese were gathering for our last surgical screening.

“Lord, send the right patients, the ones we can help.” That is my prayer for every screening.

For the past three months, the crew have been volunteering on their days off to come with the screening team to help with various jobs. This is when the body of Christ comes together to support each other for a single reason. There are engineers and deckhands working security, galley staff as escorts, and dinning room stewards are at the prayer station. There are usually three of us nurses that stand at attention when the first people are escorted through the gate. The translators are by our side to help us hear each person’s story of suffering from a disease or deformity. Then it is our turn to respond. I pull out a single slip of paper from my front scrub pocket to fill out if I think we can help with surgery. It is a ticket to the ship to see a surgeon. I am filled with joy because this surgery could save their lives. Then there is the other answer I have to give- “There is nothing we can do. We have no doctor to help.” They are the most difficult words I have ever had to speak. By the time it is translated, my eyes are glossed with tears. I’m asking God why he brought this person to me when I can do nothing. These children will struggle to walk with bowed legs because we have finished orthopedic surgery. The schedule is now full, we can’ fit any more Papas with hernias and Mamas with goiters. Little ones with cerebral palsy, hydrocephalus and paralysis have nowhere else to go for help. They continue to ask if there is anything we can do for them. I share what nursing knowledge I know that could relieve their suffering. Then I extend my hands to them and offer the only words I have remaining- a prayer. By the end of the line, I have nothing left in me and I ask others to step in and we agree in unison for God to be the ultimate Healer. I look to God for strength to carry on to find the people we can help; like my last patient of the day, a little one-month old with a cleft lip and palate.

The line disappeared in just a few hours. We took a break from the heat and indulged in some fan milk. A few people trailed in late and most I have to turn away. In the background, I heard some translators singing this song. This is when I knew not only my first prayer of the morning was heard, but every prayer spoken from that day.

"I have a Maker
He formed my heart.
Before even time began
My life was in His hands.
He knows my name,
He knows my every thought.
He sees each tear that falls,
And hears me when I call."

- He Knows My Name