Death in the Bathroom

         I had a toothbrush casualty. I began putting my toothbrush in a ziplock bag every night after I heard my friend's story about finding a cockroach dancing and dangling on the end of her toothbrush. The last month or so I decided my toothbrush would be safe in a drawer without a bag. I didn't like using the bag because the toothbrush didn't seem to dry all the way. That was a bad idea. A few evenings ago I sleepily opened my drawer and reached for my trusty toothbrush.  My heart skipped a few beats as I saw those beady cockroach eyes peering back at me. The cockroach was perched right atop my toothbrush.  I kind of shrieked and Meagan said, "You okay in there?!" Needless to say, I opened a new toothbrush and went back to the bag! The toothbrush didn't go down alone though, it took the cockroach to glory with it-well maybe not the glory part.

A Beautiful Love

          God's grace washes over me as a pounding rain, drenching me to the bone. His grace is like glistening cold water saturating my parched soul. Hope, joy, peace, and true life rush through my veins and cause my heart to burst in awe. May I fall on my face before the throne of my Precious Savior in sincere adoration and devotion. When snares grasp at my heart, fling themselves in my path, hide in the shadows, cleverly disguise themselves as pleasures, and battle to allure me from His presence, even still He pursues my heart. When I fall, turn, abandon, and dishonor His name, even still He pursues me.
          Oh the depth and height and width of my Father's love for me. His compassionate eyes beckon me to find rest in His presence. His Word powerfully transforms my life. My deepest desire is to know Him, to live for Him, to be forever with Him. I am my Savior's and He is mine. My heart cannot comprehend the beautiful relationship He has created with me. How incredible that the Almighty, Holy God chooses to love me, to make a way for me to have a never ending relationship with Him. Oh what a beautiful Savior. Oh what a beautiful love.

                                         Every Little Detail
    God’s grace amazes me. Today began in the normal fashion, the alarm clock jerking me from a heavenly sleep into the waiting morning. I prepared for school, made my cup of happy bliss-coffee, and made my way through the maze of school bags to my seat on the school van. At 8:40 a.m. my students spilled through the door and took their seats, full of energy and life. The day sped by in the blink of an eye. I fought to master every moment and pack as much learning into the day as possible. About 3/4 or the way through the day, everything changed.
    I wanted to take my kids to the field and teach our science lesson under the giant physical education parachute. The students tried their best to follow instructions. The parachute soared up in the air and came swooshing down as the boys and girls rushed to get inside and sit on the edges. Our goal was to create a little canopy of sorts and talk about the atmosphere in this sheltered tent. Let’s just say we eventually had to admit defeat. The parachute was just too big and the kids could not hear me as I tried to teach. After several failed attempts we headed back to the classroom.
    I made my way to the front of the room and looked into the sea of faces. That is when it happened. I knew right away that I was about to enter a few hours of great challenges. My students looked like fuzzy blobs with smiley faces. This is the view I always get as a migraine takes over. I suppose the bright sunlight during our parachute excursion triggered the migraine. I quickly took my medicine and said several silent prayers. It must have been an interesting science lesson because I could not see my book very well and I was relying mostly on memory.
    Even in the midst of a painful and annoying migraine, God showered me in blessings. Today was PE day, so my kids left for half an hour after the science lesson. I had this time to try to gather my thoughts and recollect myself. When they returned from PE we only had 20 minutes left in the day. I explained to my kids that I was going to try very hard not to be grumpy, but that I was feeling very sick. I asked them to please be on their best behavior for the rest of the day. They are the sweetest kids in the world.
    As I walked them downstairs to the courtyard for dismissal my fingers and face started going numb, another side effect of a migraine. I was quite a mess really, bad vision, numb limbs, foggy mind. I managed to smile and answer questions as I waited for most of the students to be picked up. When they were gone I rushed off to find my co-worker. I got permission to leave school early. I usually want to stay at school as late as possible because there is so much work to be done. Today however, I could not wait to get to a quiet dark room. My co-worker gave me permission to leave early without a moments hesitation. She even invited me to go to her house and rest. She lives right next door to the school. My roommate had about an hour before she could leave school, so I took my friend’s key and went to her house to sleep while I waited.
    The bed was like a mini haven as I tried to drift to sleep and escape the growing headache. I woke up some time later when my roommate arrived to gather me. By this time I was feeling much better, although I still was not back to normal. We headed into the wild streets of Chittagong to hail a CNG for a ride home. When the first driver heard our destination he sped off without even considering taking us. The next man was very nice and even spoke a tiny bit of English. We scooted across the seat and gripped the grated walls as the man weaved through traffic in a swift journey home.
    Meagan and I hiked our way to our fourth floor home, ready to collapse and sleep.  Imagine our surprise as we opened the door to find four construction workers tearing apart our veranda screens and frames. The men were hard at work, sawdust, wood chunks, screen pieces, and tools scattered everywhere. I think they were equally surprised to see us. We had alerted maintenance that our screens had holes to patch, but we certainly didn’t expect such a thorough project to be underway. Pounding hammers created a unique medley that may have been pleasant under normal circumstances, but was not exactly the ideal environment for a recovering migraine victim and her roommate who was also experiencing a headache. We took a few pictures, much to the amusement of the workers, and then holed up in my room. I miraculously fell asleep. Perhaps the monotony of the banging eventually became soothing.
    Now I am awake and ready, at least physically, to catch up with the work I wasn’t able to do this afternoon. The migraine is completely gone and I only feel a few faint effects lingering from the whole experience. As I reflect on the afternoon and evening, my heart sings praise to God for His goodness. He cares about every little detail of my life. Even in the midst of a migraine, God lavished me in His love. Here are the blessings:
 
-My students tried to make the end of the day smooth for me.
-One of my boys, who also gets migraines, told me he is praying for me.
-I was able to leave school early.
-My friends graciously opened their house to me, providing the perfect place to recover.
-The construction didn’t bother me nearly as much as it should have.
-I was able to sleep.
-This was only my second migraine this school year.
-I didn't need to get a substitute teacher (which we don't really have).
-My migraine didn’t last as long as they usually do.
-One of my girls brought me a get well card and cookies.

I am very thankful God cares about every little detail in my life.
~Krikkit 

The construction work as we walked in the front door.

Adding the screens to the newly constructed frames.

The cookies and get well card from my student.

The Terrifying Two-Stepper, Tiny Treasure, and Tremendous Thud

I woke up this morning giddy with excitement as I anticipated witnessing a beautiful life enter the world. I have always wanted to watch a baby’s birth. I was a bit perplexed as to how I could arrange to fulfill this dream. Most people do not open a section of the delivery room for a curious audience. My heart leapt for joy when I learned of the opportunity to witness a c-section at the Malumghat hospital. My friend Kelsi and I were instructed to be at the hospital at 8:00 a.m. to enter the delivery room. 

Kelsi and I made our way to the women’s ward where we were then whisked to the changing room. My heart danced within me the whole time as I pondered the precious soul that was about to begin his time on earth. What would his life look like? What would his dreams, hopes, and passions be? My heart knelt before my Savior asking Him to bless this little life and drawn him into an intimate relationship with my Glorious God. Oh what a beautiful moment it would be to see the tiny treasure take his first breath, life and hope rushing through his lungs and veins. 

I pulled the turquoise-greenish scrubs over my outfit.  The scrubs were fashioned as a dress with ties around my waist and by my neck. I placed a white fluffy surgery hat on my head and safely tucked each stray hair into the elastic band. The next step was a white cloth mask that tied around my head covering my nose and mouth. Finally, I stepped out of my sandals and into the hospital sandals. There I stood, ready for the show! I must say, I felt awesome! I am a medical worker-wanna-be. Looking the part of a medical worker, off I marched to the delivery room. 

Kelsi and I stepped into the room with a little awe and much excitement. There were three or four men on the side, two women helping prepare the mother, who was already on the bed ready for the operation to begin, and a national doctor preparing the tools and stomach. Later, a nurse explained to me the role of each person (midwife, sterile assistants, non-sterile assistants who could run for fresh objects, and a few more roles). All the workers were nationals at this point, an awesome sight. Each wore outfits similar to mine. A nurse showed us where we could stand and instructed us not to touch anything that was sterile. 

At that moment, Dr. Peterson swept into the room ready to begin. He was distinguishable by his white skin and sports themed surgeon hat. The atmosphere was ready for action! Dr. Peterson encouraged us to step a little closer for a better view, and the operation began. Dr. Peterson and the national doctor worked together to cut, suck, and separate, making their way to the waiting baby. Kelsi was quite the humorous commentary quietly in my ear. She whispered things like, “Oh my!” and, “Wow, ohhh!”. Upon hearing one such comment, I remarked that she better not pass out. 

I felt quite fine as I observed. Perhaps my years watching fish being filleted and my “pretend surgeon” attitude made the experience seem normal. After a few more cuts I saw the beautiful black hair of the baby! Dr. Peterson slid the baby out of the mommy’s body and joyfully announced that it was a boy. The nurse took the little man and began cleaning him up. That first piercing scream was like music from the hand of a master composer. 

I continued to watch the nurses clean up the baby and the doctors fix up the momma. That is when it happened. I suddenly felt very hot and sweaty. I desperately wanted to take off my mask. My mind focused on taking deep breaths and I thought, “Come on, you can’t be sick!” Quite suddenly I felt like I better sit down. I voiced my concern to Kelsi as I turned for the stools. 

Then next events seemed like I was in a movie. I found myself lying on the floor with two or three medical personnel surrounding me. I was quite confused as to what was going on and where I was. I felt like I was waking from a dream during the night.   Why were the doctors touching me? Why was I on the floor? Then it hit me, “Oh my goodness, I passed out! I am one of ‘those’ people! So this is what it is like to pass out. I can’t believe I am taking attention away from the momma and baby. I need to get out of the way.” 

The medical personnel told me, “You are okay, don’t worry. Don’t try to move, relax.” They turned me on my side and put a pillow under my head. The woman took my  blood pressure. I told her I felt fine and asked if she wanted me to get out of the delivery room. She said no, to stay laying there for a while. After a few minutes, she went to get me a small stool to sit on. She was quite concerned when I stood and walked to the stool. 

There I sat, discussing the drama with Kelsi and watching the rest of the post surgery work. Dr. Peterson called out from behind the scalpel asking me if I was okay. I was slightly embarrassed and avoided eye contact with the lingering medical staff. However, God’s grace allowed me to also find the situation quite funny. I enjoyed a little giggling with Kelsi reflecting on the experience. 

When Dr. Peterson finished his work he stepped out of his garb and came over to me. I promptly apologized for disturbing his delivery room. He was quick to reassure me that it was not a big deal. He made me feel much better when he told me that medical students occasionally pass out too. He said one of his classes had 15 students pass out watching the video of a birth. Dr. Nancy then focused her attention on me to make sure I was truly fine. She said one of the men told her I hit my head pretty hard. She forbid me from much activity, arranged for a driver to take me back to the main housing area, and told me I must alert someone right away if I got a medium to bad headache. From there I returned my surgery outfit, and dreams of being in the medical field, and went to see the little man of the hour. 

The baby boy was in an oxygen box. He looked perfect. Oh how I love him. I pray God will bless his life and grow him into the man God has created him to be. Welcome to your temporary home little man. What an experience! The adventure was certainly more than I expected. The entire morning reminds me of one word: life. God’s grace has granted this little man physical life. I pray that he will come to know and have a personal relationship with his Creator. I also pray that he will one day understand and embrace the purpose for his life. I hope to one day hug him as a brother in eternity. Pondering his new life, I am lead to reflect on my own life. 

Am I embracing God’s plan for me? Am I living each day for the glory of my King, seeking to fully submit to Him? Am I ready to bow before my King and give an account for my life on earth? My eternity and standing before God is certainly not dependent upon my works, but my Holy God does call me to live a focused life for His glory. I stand accepted by God based on Jesus’ payment for my sin and my acceptance of His forgiveness. I now desire to live in light of that forgiveness, only for my King. 

My friend Jen has reminded me of how quickly physical life on earth can end. She has been speaking of the “two-stepper” snake- a snake whose bite grants the victims two steps before death will transport them to eternity. As I walk on the red sun baked bricks I try to keep an alert eye out for the crafty “two-steppers”. I think, “What if I did get bit?” My passing out experience brought a new perspective to my thoughts on death. One second I was standing there fine and the next second I was on the floor wondering what happened. One day I will close my eyes in this world and open them before my Precious Savior. 

I desire to live my life focused for my King. This is only my temporary home. God please grant me the grace to stay focused on my purpose for living. Transform me to be more like You and bring glory to Your Holy Name through my set apart life. May the terrifying “two-stepper”, tiny treasure, and tremendous thud sharpen my focus and fan the flame of passionate living for my Mighty King. 

Arrival: God is King over the crazy

   Praise God I have arrived in Bangladesh! My trip began rather uneventfully. The drive to Anchorage was beautiful and my Dad and I even had a few hours to sleep in the truck in the parking lot before I had to check in. My flights to Seattle and China were smooth and peaceful. I was slightly worried that my carry on bags would cause problems. The first was a regular sized carry on and the "personal item" was a school size bag. Both were stuffed completely full and heavy! They were beyond regulation rules for weight, but thankfully no one ever checked. I would like to think I had no problems because I was successful at appearing buff and thus making the bags appear light as a feather; I know in reality it was God's grace!

   The excitement began in China. I changed airlines in China and had to go through immigration to reach the second airline. My ticket was apparently confusing because the time changes between America, China, and Bangladesh resulted in me traveling over the span of several days. Consequently, I was delayed at immigration for at least 45 minutes while three different workers looked into the matter. Eventually a man pulled up information on his smart phone and they cleared me to enter the country (I had no idea I would be entering the real world of China.) My next task was to find my new airline.

   As I searched for directions on signs, I "happened" to walk past the luggage belt from my flight (that was God's guidance for sure!) There on the floor were all of my bags. This was a confusing sight because my bags were checked to Dhaka. I found a man working and asked what was going on. He said I had to pick up my bags and re-check them. Praise God for leading me past my bags or they may still be sitting in China! 

   At this point I found a cart and created a mountain with my four humungous bags and two pudgy carry on bags. Off I trudged with my mountain. Little did I know I was about to get my exercise for the year. I think I explored almost every nook and cranny of that airport in search of my airline check in post. Every person I asked seemed to give me a different answer as to where I should go. Finally, I found the counter. By this time concern that I was going to miss my flight had crept into my heart. Perhaps you can understand the dance my nerves were doing when I discovered no one was working the counter. There I stood trying to decide if I should move my mountain once again or simply wait and risk missing my flight. 

   One Bangladeshi family appeared to share my dilemma. God sent me this family. The family consisted of two older couples, a woman, and two young men. Watching this family interact brought great peace and joy to my soul. In the midst of the craziness they were laughing, smiling, joking, and loving one another. Before I had a chance to decide what to do about the empty counter, the father from the family set out in search of workers. A few minutes later he emerged from a hallway with four workers in tow. 

   When it was my turn to approach the counter I gave my mountain a big push and began wheeling my way forward. Perhaps my buff act was wearing thin or I just have bad coordination, whatever the cause, I propelled my mountain into a sharp turn and an extremely loud and embarrassing crash. The whole cart tipped over and all six bags went flying. The family, who at this point adopted me, sent one of the boys over to help me gather the bags. He even pushed the cart to the counter for me :) 

   The next dilemma was paying for my luggage. I was allowed two free 50 pound bags. In addition to those bags I had two 70 pound bags. I already paid extra luggage fees in America and was not supposed to have to pay again, but I was also not supposed to see my bags until Dhaka. I gave the lady my baggage tickets and she said I would need to pay... are you ready for this...an extra $450 for my bags! Jeesh!! I had already paid $270 in America and did not want this extra expense. Seeing few options, and not being the confrontational type, I reluctantly agreed. Thankfully she had to set up her machine to take a debit card. During the set up process she was talking to another worker and they both re-examined my baggage tags. Once again God was showing me He reigns over the crazy because the ladies came back and told me I did not need to pay again! 

   I finished my check-in process, gathered my carry on bags, and followed my adopted Bangladeshi family to our second security screening. Once again, the family lifted my spirits with their joy and love. You know God loves us and looks out for us right? Then maybe it won't surprise you as much as it did me to find out that my seat on the plane was right in the middle of my Bangladeshi family! What a huge blessing! I was able to talk to one of the young men and he told me they were all painters and just returning from a business trip to Beijing. Our plane went to Kunming and then we changed planes and went to Dhaka. I almost missed the last flight because I was in the bathroom when a shuttle came to bring us to our gate! You should have seen how stuffed we were on the shuttle! When I got on I thought there was no way I would fit. I was literally pressed against the wall, a pole, and two people. The amazing part is that five people got on after me! I was able to sit with my family on this flight as well because we had the same seats as the Kunming flight. The young man even helped me stow and collect my heavy carry on bag. 

   When I arrived in Dhaka I got in line for immigration. It took a long time to get to the front of the line but I had no problems moving through. My next job was to gather my bags at baggage claim. As I wheeled my new cart to the belt I saw my family leaving with their bags. They gave me big smiles and waves and we parted ways. When my bags were all skillfully piled on board a cart I began my walk through customs. A man stopped me and asked why I had so many bags. I told him it was because I was teaching for ten months and had a lot of school supplies. We had a lengthy conversation and he called over two other higher authorities to make sure I didn't need to pay taxes. Then he thanked me in a sweet speech for teaching the children of Bangladesh. Finally I was in Dhaka and found the van driver holding a sign with my name on it. At this point I was three hours late and the poor man had been waiting the whole time. We decided to stay and wait for the other teachers to arrive because they would be there soon. 

    The man sat where he could see the arrivals and I sat off to the side guarding my mountain. We occasionally looked over at each other to make sure everything was fine. It was quite early in the morning and we both let out several yawns. The other teachers arrived after a while and we got in line for the man to buy a bus ticket. He was planning to take our luggage to Chittagong by bus while we rode on the airplane. Later we found out that our luggage was so delayed in arriving because no one would sell him a bus ticket for 18 pieces of luggage. He had quite the job transporting our luggage! 

    Once again God's timing was perfect as my "one small personal item" bag ripped and the zipper broke off right as we boarded the last flight. Life would have been far more difficult if it had broken earlier in the trip. United with the other teachers, spirits were high as we approached our home for the next ten months. The school van was at the airport to pick us up and we piled in for an exciting drive to our homes. We almost had another adventure when the van didn't start at first. However, God decided we didn't need any more excitement and it started after a minute. 

    Driving through the streets was a thrilling and shocking welcome experience as we remembered all the unique aspects of Bangladesh. I will write more about the wonderful country soon. For now, that is the tale of God's reign over the crazy in getting me to beautiful Bangladesh.