love

Well, while we all sit around and wait for me to learn how to write code (which could potentially take the rest of my life, just to warn you) I think it's only fair to update you on the ever-dwindling patient situation on the wards. Ward, I should say, since we only have B Ward open at the moment. Actually, if we're going to split hairs, I should probably mention that only one side of B Ward is open, and half of that one side is already torn down and packed away.

We only have three patients left.

The most amazing part is to watch our prayers being answered right in front of our eyes. We started praying, and Louise's wounds dried up. She went home yesterday, healed. We started praying, and Sedeke's infection was also healed. He went home yesterday, too, clutching a new Bible that he refused to stop reading. We started praying, and we were able to arrange for Jacob to be transferred to a hospital up country, near where he and his mother live. He too left yesterday. We started praying, and Kwelywoh went back to the operating room one last time, just like he's been doing every few days for the last couple weeks. Only this time, Dr. Gary found the place where the brain fluid was leaking out. He patched it and ran a thin plastic catheter under Kwelywoh's skin from a spot between his eyes to drain into the space around his stomach. We're still waiting to see how Kwelywoh will adjust to the new pressures inside his head, but with all the other answered prayers we've just received, it's hard to think this one won't go our way too.

Eddie and Kwelywoh and Timothy. That's it. They're the last of an endless string of stories that stretches back over these past ten months, woven together like so many threads of this cloth. Hope and heartbreak and healing and pain. I can stand back, now, so close to the end, and see it all as one.

And moving in and out and through every story, I see love.