I received a Facebook reminder that I posted this picture five years ago; it was taken in April 2012, on my first trip to Liberia as a Dignity Advocate.  That was a very emotional trip for me.  It had been 34 years since I had lived there.  Much had happened in Liberia during those intervening years, chief among them, two civil wars.  (Ebola had yet to make an appearance.)
 
Not pictured in this photograph are Kathi’s parents who were on this trip as well.  They had served as missionaries to Liberia and stayed there during the war years for as long as they could.  To celebrate their return, Kathi planned a surprise party. 
 
So many friends from the past showed up to greet them.  It had been decades since they had seen each other, yet their memories were clear.  It was so uplifting to see the joy on their faces as they embraced and recollected stories from the past.
 
What struck me the most, though, were the photos that some people pulled out of purses and wallets.  Faded snapshots, many creased and torn.  Most of the people attending the party lived through the war years in Liberia.  Many had fled their homes and been separated from family.  Some never saw their loved ones again.  These photographs augmented their memories and were the only tangible reminders they had of parents, spouses, children, or siblings.
 
They had no digital version of these prints, nor were there any postings on social media.  These washed-out photographs were all they had. 
 
A couple of our team members took photos of the photographs and uploaded them to a laptop.  They restored faded colors, eliminated scratches, and sharpened images before printing new copies of the photos.  The joy and gratitude people expressed at having new prints had me choking back tears.

Trips to Liberia require a lot of planning.  Kathi emails and phones numerous individuals and government representatives, inquiring of needs and arranging meetings.  Schedules have to be coordinated, sometimes requiring re-scheduling a previously confirmed appointment.  Housing must be arranged for nights away from our home base.  Travel up-country must be arranged.  Once in Liberia, the carefully made plans frequently change.  Serving as a Dignity Advocate requires flexibility. 
 
Our April 2017 team intended to be in Liberia for the End Fistula Campaign.  However, due to unavoidable circumstances the Ministry of Health had to postpone the campaign till June.  The team still had plenty to do.  During their first week:
 

• They met with the Ministry of Health to discuss the Ministry’s policies regarding the Maternity Waiting Home we plan to build (our long-range goal).
• Dr. Grechus joined Dr. Mulbah for his surgery day.  He did an emergency C-section and delivered a healthy baby girl!
  
• On their first day in Phebe, they talked to each teacher about their particular needs and toured the beautiful new education building that has been built.  They also gifted each teacher with some items they could use.
• Their second day in Phebe was spent with the fistula survivors.  There were 17 girls at Rehab.  Unfortunately, only four of them had had successful surgeries.  The other thirteen are waiting for a second surgery in June.
• In Charles Luke Town, they toured 30 acres that were recently planted.  The villagers also paid tribute to Dignity:Liberia for its assistance, and received Kathi into the Kpelle tribe!  Each team member received a Kpelle name.  

 
A trip to Liberia changes a person in unanticipated ways.  The depth of emotional impact can take a person by surprise.  Serving as a Dignity Advocate is humbling, inspiring, and rewarding.  If you would like to serve in 2018, contact us through this link.  For now, please enjoy some of the pictures from the current trip.

Week before last I had a minor surgical procedure that required a general anesthetic.  After I checked in at the surgery center, a nurse took my vitals and explained what to expect.  This wasn’t my first time to be briefed.  My doctor had provided verbal and written information when I had my pre-op visit with her.  After I had changed into a gown, I settled on the gurney to wait and chatted with my husband.  During that time, the anesthesiologist stopped in, introduced herself, and explained what she would be doing.  My doctor joined us and reviewed things again, then asked if there were any questions. 
 
After a short while, I was wheeled into the Operating Room.  I moved from the gurney to the operating table while someone made sure my gown didn’t ride up during the process.  More people introduced themselves to me saying, “I’m going to…” explaining their role in my operation.
 
Despite all the friendly greetings and explanations, despite the fact that I’ve had prior surgeries, I felt some anxiety.  I stared up at the bright lights of the OR and my last thought before they put a mask over my nose and mouth, was to wonder how it felt for the women undergoing fistula repair as they stared up at the lights of the O.R. in Phebe or Bomi.