"Don't fret when the Lord takes things out of your life. Chances are, He will replace it with something else soon after"
I wrote a blog some time ago entitled "8 and 9" I believe. It was probably about how I only had 8 months and 9 days until I came back from blessed India. Well even though I try to deny it, I only have 12 days until I leave my kids (my life) and 14 until I'm on a plane back to America (my other old life).
Time is but a fleeting thing in the wind. How true this all has been. I've been doing a lot of going and coming recently, and I think this has contributed to the fleeting time. Right now I'm taking my friend Christian Bunch back to the airport so he can go back to his kids in Chennai. He met my kids, but now it's time for him to return to his own.
Christian's visit was needed for me. I think having another male missionary in my shoes did good for me. I think I balanced well hanging with him and my kids in these last days. We went to a lot of bazaars, went to the village once, went to the waterfalls, had a quick thanksgiving dinner involving Nutella and pancakes and mac and cheese. We did it all. We enjoyed.
We talked a lot about missions and what the Lord is doing with each of our lives. Christian says that he's feeling called to do long term missions in India. I told him I don't feel called at the time but would be willing to come back to my project and do further work for the Lord. So don't be surprised if I pack up my bags and leave America again in the future.
But it's in the Lord's hands. Right?
Right now I have 1 prayer meeting left, 2 sabbaths, and then I'm out of here in a little over 13 days. The 3 in the title stands for the 3 in 13. (I couldn't get more creative than that).
Part of my going away has been getting some memorabilia for my children. So while Christian was here, he helped me figure out the best way to make 27 picture frames for my kids. After struggling for days for an idea, we decided to just use a stick of bamboo that we cut in half and put the picture in between. It's def not Pinterest worthy, but what to do. Most of my kids will simply read the message I write for them on the back and then put the pictures in their photo albums. It's one of the few things I can do for them before I go.
One very nice thing happened yesterday that filled my heart with joy: two of my boys came back after a 1 month and 2 month hiatus to Kolkata. I think I gave them about 5 hugs upon their return. I have all of my happy club kids back, and it makes me super happy.
As I get ready to leave, I wonder if the Lord will give something to me in replace of my time and memories here. The Word says that he gives and takes away. I think it's His time to take away my time here in Meghalaya India on Springs of Love campus. I just wonder if he'll give me something else instead.
There isn't much more to talk about in this blog. I officially can't go to the hiring event at Florida hospital and that's a bummer because it makes me salty about spending all that money and losing all that time. However HR says that the hospital does want to hiring me for an actual RN position. So a job is promising. At least more promising than before and it's not a complete loss.
I'm a little more worried about my transition back into American life, so please bare with me if I'm not oober excited to see you or don't want to do anything. I do know that I will need to get a used car when I get back because I'll be joining the working world. So if anyone reading this wants to give me tips on buying used cars or knows someone who could give me a good deal and not having me driving a vehicle with the engine about to fall out, let me know. That's one of my honest, serious worries.
As I've stated before and I'll state it again, I absolutely love it here. I'm so thankful the Lord chose me to do this work. I just pray I've done it all for Jesus and that I'll continue to do more for Jesus in the future. If you've ever considered missions, I suggest you keep considering it. Your life will never be the same. And it may be the beginning of your mission life and not your mission experience if you make it that way.
For now, I'm just chilling with my kid, Timrei and taking Christian back to his kids. I'll be back to my kids in less than 24 hours. The final stretch will begin then. You may not here from me until I get back. If this happens, don't fret. Just know that in 1, 2, 3, you'll be seeing a whole lot more of me.
Jesus help us all.
Kameron Carter
Thursday, November 12, 2015
Monday, October 26, 2015
30 days of ordinary memories
"The going is always faster than the coming"-- said nobody ever
I was sitting with my son cornel at church this past Tuesday during prayer meeting. This may seem like a casual statement but it's not. For about two weeks ago, cornel put up the biggest wall between us as a result of the football rebellion. He was the one that was so mad at me that he wouldn't even sing if I was there. He was so outspoken about the unfairness in the punishment and one of the leaders of the rebellion. I never thought we'd be able to sing hymns in church like that again.
Moreover, yesterday, Roben was curious about the safest water to drink since the water went out up here at the campus. He asked me for help and we went on a little adventure together looking for the purest water coming out of the mountain or flowing under the ground. It was fun. Just the two of us. I also thought this would never happen. Roben can tend to me the most stubborn of the boys and his distance he put between us after the fall out was the highest. Even after it took almost a month for things to become normal again, it didn't seem genuine. But then he started to open up again and now I've seen us come back together enough to go on excursions. He also likes to ask me how his hair looks. Ha.
I owe it all to Jesus and to answering the prayers lifted from this side of the world and from America. I thank you all for praying. For everyone finally, things are back to normal as if nothing happened.
But in these things returning to normal, I realized one terrifying thought: I have less than 30 days.
So much has happened in getting to these 30 days: my son Blessingson has been sick with malaria/typhoid or both. I've been a teacher, Dean, principal, nurse, and father again, I had my first death, many of my kids have left me one my one and many have come back one by one, I've held a lot of babies, I've rearranged my room, I've been giving pictures to my kids, I've been experiencing God.
And in a week, my friend Christian will be coming to visit. He's doing mission work in South India and will be coming to hang with me and my kids for a week. I think they will really like him and probably not want him to leave. It will be nice having another male my age who's also single and doing the same thing as me.
However, his visit is also sad; for when he leaves, I will only have 12 more days with my kids.
I don't even know what that's like. When I look through pictures with my girls and boys, I look at the dates of some of these memories and can't believe that they are truly that far back. "That happened in April?!" I always ask myself these kinds of questions. It's very strange to think so much happened in such a short time, and I feel like it didn't happen. I haven't been gone from America that long yet. I was just there studying for my NCLEX last week and preparing to come.
Coming back two weeks sooner than planned is also bitter in my mouth right now. I changed my schedule so I could come back for a nursing event and hopefully get offered a job right on the spot. (This would allow me save money, pay off loans, and come back home to India). I moved my ticket, spent all this money, cringed thinking i'd have to lose two weeks with my kids, just to get the chance to get this job in Florida. I applied for the position, just in time, and even was in contact with an HR lady to make sure I got everything in on time. Then she contacted me and told me that she went through my application and saw that I was a graduated nurse and that the event was solely for nurses in their last semester of school. She told me I would not be able to go.
When she told me that, I almost vomited. I still almost vomit. My teachers are in the process of fighting for me, however. We'll see if it works. Cause all I know is that if I don't meet my future wife in that two weeks early that I'm back, it will make returning even so much harder. And yet.... May God's will be done right?
Ella and my friend Cassie, told me to take pictures of the ordinary things recently: how This looked, how that looked, what teaching was like, what hanging with my boys was like, just all the ordinary things that have just become part of my day. They say it is these things I will miss the most.
I will miss waking up in my bed knowing I have to go wake the boys, which is like waking a bear. I will miss walking around campus early in the morning and saying "good morning" to everyone but "good evening" to ms Awon. I will miss my boys shenanigans like calling me "mrs. Kam" recently, and them calling my name but not saying anything when I respond, or telling me all these deep cat poster worthy quotes. I will miss eating with them and spending more time laughing than eating. I will miss their singing and them coming back from work in the afternoon, as if I'm their father waiting for them to come home. I will miss the girls yelling at me and getting mad because they have a stubborn father but I have bad kids. I will miss my kids being good. I will miss the girls wanting to take pictures with me. I will miss the boys asking me how their hair looks and if they look pretty. I won't have anyone to say "where are the girls" or to correct about not being modest and keeping their pants past their butts. I'll miss Saturday night games. I'll miss hearing the bell ring for worship. I'll miss going to go see the cooks in the kitchen. I'll miss having rice twice a day and potatoes. I'll miss putting my boys to sleep at night even though it's like trying to pull teeth sometimes, but then looking back on it thinking, wow I've got some good kids. I'll miss going to the village on the bike. I'll miss talking to the midwives and taking pictures with all the babies. I'll miss it all for sure.
So I'm taking pictures of these ordinary things. I'm taking audio of this simple life, of the causal day to day, of washing clothes, of worship, of the girls and the boys.
I hope to go through it all before I leave, when I leave, and after I leave. I know I'll cry. I know it'll be tough. But I think these pictures and videos of ordinary life here will carry me through.
Am I ready to come back? Well you know the answer is no. Am I excited to come back to the states? You know the answer is no. It'll be nice to have chipotle, hug JB who I haven't seen in over a year, and eat ice cream and drink almond milk. That will grow old quick and I'll want to come back.
For now I'm just clicking away at the pictures and making due with this last bit of time.
Pray for me because I'm not sure how to deal with this last 30 days.
Here's to 30 more days of ordinary memories.
Alabanza. Bless. Bless it all 🙏🏾. Hallelu.
Kameron Carter
I was sitting with my son cornel at church this past Tuesday during prayer meeting. This may seem like a casual statement but it's not. For about two weeks ago, cornel put up the biggest wall between us as a result of the football rebellion. He was the one that was so mad at me that he wouldn't even sing if I was there. He was so outspoken about the unfairness in the punishment and one of the leaders of the rebellion. I never thought we'd be able to sing hymns in church like that again.
Moreover, yesterday, Roben was curious about the safest water to drink since the water went out up here at the campus. He asked me for help and we went on a little adventure together looking for the purest water coming out of the mountain or flowing under the ground. It was fun. Just the two of us. I also thought this would never happen. Roben can tend to me the most stubborn of the boys and his distance he put between us after the fall out was the highest. Even after it took almost a month for things to become normal again, it didn't seem genuine. But then he started to open up again and now I've seen us come back together enough to go on excursions. He also likes to ask me how his hair looks. Ha.
I owe it all to Jesus and to answering the prayers lifted from this side of the world and from America. I thank you all for praying. For everyone finally, things are back to normal as if nothing happened.
But in these things returning to normal, I realized one terrifying thought: I have less than 30 days.
So much has happened in getting to these 30 days: my son Blessingson has been sick with malaria/typhoid or both. I've been a teacher, Dean, principal, nurse, and father again, I had my first death, many of my kids have left me one my one and many have come back one by one, I've held a lot of babies, I've rearranged my room, I've been giving pictures to my kids, I've been experiencing God.
And in a week, my friend Christian will be coming to visit. He's doing mission work in South India and will be coming to hang with me and my kids for a week. I think they will really like him and probably not want him to leave. It will be nice having another male my age who's also single and doing the same thing as me.
However, his visit is also sad; for when he leaves, I will only have 12 more days with my kids.
I don't even know what that's like. When I look through pictures with my girls and boys, I look at the dates of some of these memories and can't believe that they are truly that far back. "That happened in April?!" I always ask myself these kinds of questions. It's very strange to think so much happened in such a short time, and I feel like it didn't happen. I haven't been gone from America that long yet. I was just there studying for my NCLEX last week and preparing to come.
Coming back two weeks sooner than planned is also bitter in my mouth right now. I changed my schedule so I could come back for a nursing event and hopefully get offered a job right on the spot. (This would allow me save money, pay off loans, and come back home to India). I moved my ticket, spent all this money, cringed thinking i'd have to lose two weeks with my kids, just to get the chance to get this job in Florida. I applied for the position, just in time, and even was in contact with an HR lady to make sure I got everything in on time. Then she contacted me and told me that she went through my application and saw that I was a graduated nurse and that the event was solely for nurses in their last semester of school. She told me I would not be able to go.
When she told me that, I almost vomited. I still almost vomit. My teachers are in the process of fighting for me, however. We'll see if it works. Cause all I know is that if I don't meet my future wife in that two weeks early that I'm back, it will make returning even so much harder. And yet.... May God's will be done right?
Ella and my friend Cassie, told me to take pictures of the ordinary things recently: how This looked, how that looked, what teaching was like, what hanging with my boys was like, just all the ordinary things that have just become part of my day. They say it is these things I will miss the most.
I will miss waking up in my bed knowing I have to go wake the boys, which is like waking a bear. I will miss walking around campus early in the morning and saying "good morning" to everyone but "good evening" to ms Awon. I will miss my boys shenanigans like calling me "mrs. Kam" recently, and them calling my name but not saying anything when I respond, or telling me all these deep cat poster worthy quotes. I will miss eating with them and spending more time laughing than eating. I will miss their singing and them coming back from work in the afternoon, as if I'm their father waiting for them to come home. I will miss the girls yelling at me and getting mad because they have a stubborn father but I have bad kids. I will miss my kids being good. I will miss the girls wanting to take pictures with me. I will miss the boys asking me how their hair looks and if they look pretty. I won't have anyone to say "where are the girls" or to correct about not being modest and keeping their pants past their butts. I'll miss Saturday night games. I'll miss hearing the bell ring for worship. I'll miss going to go see the cooks in the kitchen. I'll miss having rice twice a day and potatoes. I'll miss putting my boys to sleep at night even though it's like trying to pull teeth sometimes, but then looking back on it thinking, wow I've got some good kids. I'll miss going to the village on the bike. I'll miss talking to the midwives and taking pictures with all the babies. I'll miss it all for sure.
So I'm taking pictures of these ordinary things. I'm taking audio of this simple life, of the causal day to day, of washing clothes, of worship, of the girls and the boys.
I hope to go through it all before I leave, when I leave, and after I leave. I know I'll cry. I know it'll be tough. But I think these pictures and videos of ordinary life here will carry me through.
Am I ready to come back? Well you know the answer is no. Am I excited to come back to the states? You know the answer is no. It'll be nice to have chipotle, hug JB who I haven't seen in over a year, and eat ice cream and drink almond milk. That will grow old quick and I'll want to come back.
For now I'm just clicking away at the pictures and making due with this last bit of time.
Pray for me because I'm not sure how to deal with this last 30 days.
Here's to 30 more days of ordinary memories.
Alabanza. Bless. Bless it all 🙏🏾. Hallelu.
Kameron Carter
Thursday, October 22, 2015
Somebody Save Me
"You can't save them all. Only Jesus saves."
Wednesday Oct 7, 2015, was already starting off to be a rough day. Alex, a girl from Puerto Rico, who came to be a midwife teacher, grandmother, and friend left that morning at 430 am with one of my boys. Don't worry, we didn't fall in love and I'm not getting married.
I was sad, however. It was nice having another American around who understood some of the struggles, who ate pancakes with Ella and I, who enjoyed some good old fashioned butter. But it was her time to go. We paid our dues and said goodbye.
Yet, the day had to continue as always. I went to my first class, economics, a little bit late; also typical. Soon after we started, Ms. Leishimi came running in the class
"Kameron Sir? There is one very serious patient in the nearby village that you need to go see. The father just came and wants us to come. I can't go because I'm teaching the midwives."
And my first thought, "and I'm clearly here having an ice cream party because I have nothing else to do..." I always hated moments like this. It was one of the downfalls of being a teacher and a nurse for the village. I couldn't and still can't do both effectively. At times, I am forced to neglect my students for my patients and my patients for my students.
I asked her if he was breathing and stable, and she said she wasn't sure. I told her I would go after lunch cause I didn't want to miss all of the classes for my kids. Plus, I could count many times where villagers pulled this stunt just to get me there faster and I show up and everything is completely fine.
My students in the class I was in piped in and said I should go because what if he really was serious and died.
'Twas a good excuse but I also knew they wanted to get out of class. So then I decided to go right after that class and hope and pray I could solve the problem in my 40 min before my next class.
So I finished that class and kind of put some "pep in my step." I wasn't that excited to go to this patient's house just to have everything be fine.
So I called one of the midwives, the one who knows the most garo and English, because if it was an actual emergency, I would need her.
Right before I left, I told the kids I would hopefully be back before their next class. When I went up, the midwife I asked to go with me said that another garo midwife was going to go. I wasn't sure why but i wasn't going to argue because this midwife did know English and I had worked with her before on many occasion.
So we got on the bike, said a prayer and began the "down the street" journey.
When we almost got there, while going up a hill in too high of a gear on the bike, I stalled. Awkward. Lenitha, the midwife with me, got off and walked up the rest of the hill to the patient's house while I pushed the bike up the hill with a garo man nearby.
Then everything began to happen like a dream.
Lenitha told me to come fast from the hill. I did as I was told because there was much stress in her voice.
When I got inside, there was a small boy about the size of my leg, lying on his mother's lap. The mother was crying and yelling, and I took note the boy didn't look like he was in the best state. I told her to quickly put the boy on the ground so that I could check everything better. In her distress she did as she was told. I began to check vital sounds while I asked Lenitha to ask them exactly what happened. If I was going to save this boy, I needed to know what happened.
She told me that he was eating rice and then all of a sudden he stopped and went into this state
Vitals were finished. Pulse and breathing seemed a little low for a 5 year old boy. I still wasn't sure what was going on. I was starting to get a little nervous.
I asked more questions: had he been sick before? What were his symptoms? how sick was he? Did he fall? Did he cut himself earlier? How long has he been sick and like this? Exactly what just happened? Does he have allergies? Did he suddenly choke on rice?
I needed to know more. When examining the boy again. He was definitely losing levels of consciousness, with his eyes slightly open. He looked yellow in his body and wasn't responding to much stimuli. His heart rate and breathing still a little slower than I expected. He was a 5 year old boy, not a grown man.
By this time the mother wasn't as distressed but everyone around me started putting oil and garlic on the boy's arms and legs. Not my favorite thing at the moment in time. But you can't always argue with the culture.
Then Lenitha got word that he had a cough for a week and that he had malaria and they were giving treatment. But then they said that he hadn't gotten a blood test and they just suspected he had malaria so they brought medicine.
Now I was confused. This is where communication began to become gray with me and the Lenitha, and therefore the people I desperately needed to talk to.
I just decided to do a malaria test really quick. However getting blood became a serious problem with all this oil and garlic they were putting on his body. Cleaning his skin and trying to get fresh, uncontaminated blood was the most stressful thing at the most inappropriate time.
Stress began to rise on both sides. My heart was starting to thump as I poked his skin and poked trying to get blood, trying to keep everything clean, trying to think of what I was going to do because at the moment, i didn't know.
By this time, we had gotten a gathering of neighbors outside and inside the house. Perfect, I thought. These extra people is exactly what I need right now.
I was somehow able to get enough blood, that may have been contaminated after poking this boy an infinite amount of times. I put in my drops and waited.
I checked my vitals again, thinking I still don't know what to do. I don't know what happened. Everything was still blurry. The boy wasn't getting better. I knew that.
I kept asking questions. But I wasn't getting answers. At least not the ones I wanted.
"Lenitha I really need you to ask them what exactly happened. Did he choke? Was he sitting there eating and then all of a sudden he feel over or he just started feeling bad? What? What sickness did he have before? I need to know all this; if not I can't help."
Part of the conversation
There still seemed to be a divide. Miscommunication. The works.
I told Lenitha to come sit next to the boy and make sure he still was breathing and had a pulse while I looked through my book for some kind of answer
Lord don't let this boy die on me. Help.
My prayer.
I thought that possibly an iv with some fluid going through him might help and at least I could give some medicine that way.
And then, I realized that I didn't have any IV tubing.
YOU'VE GOT TO BE KIDDING ME! I thought. I didn't trust myself to go get it nor could Lenitha drive. So I called one of the midwives at the compound while leaning over this boy still doing assessments. Time passing. I got ahold of one and instructed her with such seriousness how important this was and how fast I needed her to move. "Find someone to drive you in the other vehicle. Go fast!" I hung up.
There was much chaos that was beginning to ensue. My books and everything were everywhere. The number of people began to increase. The mother began to yell the boy's name and say many thing in garo in her distress. She and I and everyone there were scared. I didn't know what to do.
More garo medicine. More garlic and oil.
And then no malaria. At least that's what the test said.
I keep asking questions trying to narrow down what happened. Still no answers.
The stress was only increasing. I felt my stomach in my throat. I think I was sweating. I think everything began to truly feel like a dream.
Then I heard the sound of someone gasping for breath. It was the boy. I realized that was the only breathing he was doing. His pulse shot up. He lungs still sounded clear but from the little information I knew, his body was shutting down. I knew there wasn't much time.
I still wasn't sure what to do. At least with medicine. I grabbed my CPR mask because I knew it was going to come to that.
And then, another assessment. His breathing was little to nil, and no pulse was felt.
Some choice words were said under my breath.
I started CPR.
There is nothing more terrifying than the thought that this CPR thing has more to it than me just simply pumping and giving breaths. Normally this is an AED on the way, someone is about to give epinephrine, there is more help to be given. But no, I just had me and a midwife that I was having communication issues with her.
While doing the CPR, I was praying, trying to drown out the mother's frantic crying and screaming. I tried to teach the CPR thing to Lenitha while doing it myself. She wasn't understanding. Perfect.
I kept doing CPR. It was the only thing I could do right now.
The compressions, the breaths, the oil, the garlic, the garo people, the screaming mother. The chaos.
And then "sir they want you to stop."
The words of Lenitha that I didn't quite hear correctly. Or so I thought.
"They want me to stop?! Are you sure?!"
"Yes"
Ok.
And so I stopped. I respected their decision. But it hurt me so much inside even though deep down I knew I was probably doing CPR in vain to begin with. How long could I have done CPR without knowing what was truly going on?
I checked his pulse and listened for breathing for about 2 min just to make sure of any chance of life.
That boy died right there. That 5 year old died right in front of me. Practically in my lap.
The wails rang clear when I told everyone that he was finished. All the tears flooded the air and the sounds of a grieving mother was the music of the moment. All other family flooded in as I stepped out, giving them space.
Even with everything going on, I was replaying again and again the moment. I thought up everything that happened. I thought of how it could have gone better. I thought of what I could have done more. I thought of the lack of communication. I thought if I would have come earlier, would he have died. I thought of all the questions that were unanswered. I thought of this young family, now childless, for their newest baby died in a still birth and now their only son died and no one knows why.
I thought of how I couldn't save him.
Even though the sun was shining, my mind and heart were sad as I drove the bike home.
I was still in shock so I quickly parked the bike, dropped off my stuff in the room and then tried to leave without being seen. For those who crossed my path and asked "how is that boy?", with a straight face and quick response, I said, "he died."
I kept it moving.
I walked to the river. Down the hill, through the jungle, away from it all. I was ok for a bit. Just really upset.
Then I lost it all and began to cry with such ugliness and loss of control.
It all happened at once. Then I missed people. I wanted Cassie there to give me a big hug and make me laugh. I wanted Obi to give me that look he always does when bad things happen but his face says, God is there. I wanted Jeffrey's incredibly strange but awesome laugh and wanted to just lounge around with him, normally me talking and him listening and then falling asleep. I for sure just wanted to be held. That made it worse.
Then I sang some hymns. I felt the Lord draw close and touch my heart, touch my mind, touch my body. He whispered in his own way, "you're ok. I'll still make something beautiful out of this"
It didn't last too long, all the excessive self loathing. God stopped that real quick. I prayed a lot. For the mother, for the family, for it all.
Eventually, I got up and walked up the hill and back to my room. I avoided everyone and went to sleep.
That was a hard day. It was a day. It was one I won't forget.
Truly God taught me some lessons: 1) sometimes you do your best, and it's not enough. 2) He knows better than I. 3) We can't save anyone. We can prolong their lives. But only he can save.
Jesus is in the business of saving us and getting us out of here. It's because 5 year olds can die just like that is the reason He is in the business of getting us to a better home. I'm not quite sure when that will be exactly; however as I look at the prophetic events being played out exactly as scripture and the spirit of prophecy put it, I know it's soon. No joke soon.
For life sake, I pray it's soon enough. Be ready.
Bless. Bless it all.
Kameron Carter
Wednesday Oct 7, 2015, was already starting off to be a rough day. Alex, a girl from Puerto Rico, who came to be a midwife teacher, grandmother, and friend left that morning at 430 am with one of my boys. Don't worry, we didn't fall in love and I'm not getting married.
I was sad, however. It was nice having another American around who understood some of the struggles, who ate pancakes with Ella and I, who enjoyed some good old fashioned butter. But it was her time to go. We paid our dues and said goodbye.
Yet, the day had to continue as always. I went to my first class, economics, a little bit late; also typical. Soon after we started, Ms. Leishimi came running in the class
"Kameron Sir? There is one very serious patient in the nearby village that you need to go see. The father just came and wants us to come. I can't go because I'm teaching the midwives."
And my first thought, "and I'm clearly here having an ice cream party because I have nothing else to do..." I always hated moments like this. It was one of the downfalls of being a teacher and a nurse for the village. I couldn't and still can't do both effectively. At times, I am forced to neglect my students for my patients and my patients for my students.
I asked her if he was breathing and stable, and she said she wasn't sure. I told her I would go after lunch cause I didn't want to miss all of the classes for my kids. Plus, I could count many times where villagers pulled this stunt just to get me there faster and I show up and everything is completely fine.
My students in the class I was in piped in and said I should go because what if he really was serious and died.
'Twas a good excuse but I also knew they wanted to get out of class. So then I decided to go right after that class and hope and pray I could solve the problem in my 40 min before my next class.
So I finished that class and kind of put some "pep in my step." I wasn't that excited to go to this patient's house just to have everything be fine.
So I called one of the midwives, the one who knows the most garo and English, because if it was an actual emergency, I would need her.
Right before I left, I told the kids I would hopefully be back before their next class. When I went up, the midwife I asked to go with me said that another garo midwife was going to go. I wasn't sure why but i wasn't going to argue because this midwife did know English and I had worked with her before on many occasion.
So we got on the bike, said a prayer and began the "down the street" journey.
When we almost got there, while going up a hill in too high of a gear on the bike, I stalled. Awkward. Lenitha, the midwife with me, got off and walked up the rest of the hill to the patient's house while I pushed the bike up the hill with a garo man nearby.
Then everything began to happen like a dream.
Lenitha told me to come fast from the hill. I did as I was told because there was much stress in her voice.
When I got inside, there was a small boy about the size of my leg, lying on his mother's lap. The mother was crying and yelling, and I took note the boy didn't look like he was in the best state. I told her to quickly put the boy on the ground so that I could check everything better. In her distress she did as she was told. I began to check vital sounds while I asked Lenitha to ask them exactly what happened. If I was going to save this boy, I needed to know what happened.
She told me that he was eating rice and then all of a sudden he stopped and went into this state
Vitals were finished. Pulse and breathing seemed a little low for a 5 year old boy. I still wasn't sure what was going on. I was starting to get a little nervous.
I asked more questions: had he been sick before? What were his symptoms? how sick was he? Did he fall? Did he cut himself earlier? How long has he been sick and like this? Exactly what just happened? Does he have allergies? Did he suddenly choke on rice?
I needed to know more. When examining the boy again. He was definitely losing levels of consciousness, with his eyes slightly open. He looked yellow in his body and wasn't responding to much stimuli. His heart rate and breathing still a little slower than I expected. He was a 5 year old boy, not a grown man.
By this time the mother wasn't as distressed but everyone around me started putting oil and garlic on the boy's arms and legs. Not my favorite thing at the moment in time. But you can't always argue with the culture.
Then Lenitha got word that he had a cough for a week and that he had malaria and they were giving treatment. But then they said that he hadn't gotten a blood test and they just suspected he had malaria so they brought medicine.
Now I was confused. This is where communication began to become gray with me and the Lenitha, and therefore the people I desperately needed to talk to.
I just decided to do a malaria test really quick. However getting blood became a serious problem with all this oil and garlic they were putting on his body. Cleaning his skin and trying to get fresh, uncontaminated blood was the most stressful thing at the most inappropriate time.
Stress began to rise on both sides. My heart was starting to thump as I poked his skin and poked trying to get blood, trying to keep everything clean, trying to think of what I was going to do because at the moment, i didn't know.
By this time, we had gotten a gathering of neighbors outside and inside the house. Perfect, I thought. These extra people is exactly what I need right now.
I was somehow able to get enough blood, that may have been contaminated after poking this boy an infinite amount of times. I put in my drops and waited.
I checked my vitals again, thinking I still don't know what to do. I don't know what happened. Everything was still blurry. The boy wasn't getting better. I knew that.
I kept asking questions. But I wasn't getting answers. At least not the ones I wanted.
"Lenitha I really need you to ask them what exactly happened. Did he choke? Was he sitting there eating and then all of a sudden he feel over or he just started feeling bad? What? What sickness did he have before? I need to know all this; if not I can't help."
Part of the conversation
There still seemed to be a divide. Miscommunication. The works.
I told Lenitha to come sit next to the boy and make sure he still was breathing and had a pulse while I looked through my book for some kind of answer
Lord don't let this boy die on me. Help.
My prayer.
I thought that possibly an iv with some fluid going through him might help and at least I could give some medicine that way.
And then, I realized that I didn't have any IV tubing.
YOU'VE GOT TO BE KIDDING ME! I thought. I didn't trust myself to go get it nor could Lenitha drive. So I called one of the midwives at the compound while leaning over this boy still doing assessments. Time passing. I got ahold of one and instructed her with such seriousness how important this was and how fast I needed her to move. "Find someone to drive you in the other vehicle. Go fast!" I hung up.
There was much chaos that was beginning to ensue. My books and everything were everywhere. The number of people began to increase. The mother began to yell the boy's name and say many thing in garo in her distress. She and I and everyone there were scared. I didn't know what to do.
More garo medicine. More garlic and oil.
And then no malaria. At least that's what the test said.
I keep asking questions trying to narrow down what happened. Still no answers.
The stress was only increasing. I felt my stomach in my throat. I think I was sweating. I think everything began to truly feel like a dream.
Then I heard the sound of someone gasping for breath. It was the boy. I realized that was the only breathing he was doing. His pulse shot up. He lungs still sounded clear but from the little information I knew, his body was shutting down. I knew there wasn't much time.
I still wasn't sure what to do. At least with medicine. I grabbed my CPR mask because I knew it was going to come to that.
And then, another assessment. His breathing was little to nil, and no pulse was felt.
Some choice words were said under my breath.
I started CPR.
There is nothing more terrifying than the thought that this CPR thing has more to it than me just simply pumping and giving breaths. Normally this is an AED on the way, someone is about to give epinephrine, there is more help to be given. But no, I just had me and a midwife that I was having communication issues with her.
While doing the CPR, I was praying, trying to drown out the mother's frantic crying and screaming. I tried to teach the CPR thing to Lenitha while doing it myself. She wasn't understanding. Perfect.
I kept doing CPR. It was the only thing I could do right now.
The compressions, the breaths, the oil, the garlic, the garo people, the screaming mother. The chaos.
And then "sir they want you to stop."
The words of Lenitha that I didn't quite hear correctly. Or so I thought.
"They want me to stop?! Are you sure?!"
"Yes"
Ok.
And so I stopped. I respected their decision. But it hurt me so much inside even though deep down I knew I was probably doing CPR in vain to begin with. How long could I have done CPR without knowing what was truly going on?
I checked his pulse and listened for breathing for about 2 min just to make sure of any chance of life.
That boy died right there. That 5 year old died right in front of me. Practically in my lap.
The wails rang clear when I told everyone that he was finished. All the tears flooded the air and the sounds of a grieving mother was the music of the moment. All other family flooded in as I stepped out, giving them space.
Even with everything going on, I was replaying again and again the moment. I thought up everything that happened. I thought of how it could have gone better. I thought of what I could have done more. I thought of the lack of communication. I thought if I would have come earlier, would he have died. I thought of all the questions that were unanswered. I thought of this young family, now childless, for their newest baby died in a still birth and now their only son died and no one knows why.
I thought of how I couldn't save him.
Even though the sun was shining, my mind and heart were sad as I drove the bike home.
I was still in shock so I quickly parked the bike, dropped off my stuff in the room and then tried to leave without being seen. For those who crossed my path and asked "how is that boy?", with a straight face and quick response, I said, "he died."
I kept it moving.
I walked to the river. Down the hill, through the jungle, away from it all. I was ok for a bit. Just really upset.
Then I lost it all and began to cry with such ugliness and loss of control.
It all happened at once. Then I missed people. I wanted Cassie there to give me a big hug and make me laugh. I wanted Obi to give me that look he always does when bad things happen but his face says, God is there. I wanted Jeffrey's incredibly strange but awesome laugh and wanted to just lounge around with him, normally me talking and him listening and then falling asleep. I for sure just wanted to be held. That made it worse.
Then I sang some hymns. I felt the Lord draw close and touch my heart, touch my mind, touch my body. He whispered in his own way, "you're ok. I'll still make something beautiful out of this"
It didn't last too long, all the excessive self loathing. God stopped that real quick. I prayed a lot. For the mother, for the family, for it all.
Eventually, I got up and walked up the hill and back to my room. I avoided everyone and went to sleep.
That was a hard day. It was a day. It was one I won't forget.
Truly God taught me some lessons: 1) sometimes you do your best, and it's not enough. 2) He knows better than I. 3) We can't save anyone. We can prolong their lives. But only he can save.
Jesus is in the business of saving us and getting us out of here. It's because 5 year olds can die just like that is the reason He is in the business of getting us to a better home. I'm not quite sure when that will be exactly; however as I look at the prophetic events being played out exactly as scripture and the spirit of prophecy put it, I know it's soon. No joke soon.
For life sake, I pray it's soon enough. Be ready.
Bless. Bless it all.
Kameron Carter
Wednesday, October 14, 2015
Little Goodbyes
"Try to see 'goodbyes' more as 'until heaven.' It makes the pain of departure less heart wrenching"
In less than two weeks, 5 people very dear to me have left either temporarily or permanently. Miss Alex, the midwife from Puerto Rico left for the states yesterday. Don't worry, we didn't fall in love and aren't getting married. However, she was fun and great to have around, to talk about foolishness with, eat pancakes with, share American times with Ella and I. She is missed. With her, I lost one of my sons, Robert. Robert was sent as her bodyguard because he's so big and scary, but very nice and a great kid. He also has business to do with his school. Thankfully, he will return.
Then there are Kristina and Grace, two of my daughters, both of which told me they were leaving at the last minute. I was so upset. Thankfully Kristina will come back. However, Grace told me that she won't. It all happened so fast. She told me she needed pictures but I told her I was busy. She responded with this being the only time available because she wasn't coming back.
Then I flipped over the campus in my anger.
I said my last good byes and all to her just a couple of moments ago.
And then, there is Muthu. Muthu is very near to my favorite child, little brother who is not my brother, son ever. I spend the most time with this one. He was the first one to say hello to me when I arrived. He always comes to my room, at least 6 times a day, normally just to say hello and check on me and ask me If I think his hair looks nice. He jokes with me constantly, and we go on adventures together. He was one of the only ones who didn't let our football schism destroy our relationship. And I appreciated that.
He's going to get some school business done too and see the doctor. He says he will be back in a couple of weeks and I pray that it's so. My life shall be severely lacking with this one not in it. Plus when he returns I'll only have like 20 something days left with him and that is daunting.
Actually all of these goodbyes, starting with Alex and Robert have been wake up calls. Reminders that, "hey! You're about to leave these kids for real now, potentially indefinitely."
I'm not sure I'll come back. It took Ella 5 years. Granted. She had school and I don't; but still.
I really want to come back. For many who have talked to me, I have expressed how I don't even want to go. The kids are going to strap me to the ceiling of the hostel and take all my stuff. I'm fine with that.
I've been looking at my countdown a lot more recently, trying to prepare myself. But I think I'm going to stop and just try and enjoy the moment.
Cassie, my best friend, told me to start taking pictures of the ordinary day to day, those activities that you don't think twice about doing, but it's apart of my current life. I will miss it and wish I could visualize it. I'll take advantage of this.
All these goodbyes are making me enjoy more of the simple things, laugh so much more, just being with my kids cause I can be. I want to know more about them, hang out, go on adventures, teach them and show them Jesus hopefully.
I really look forward to heaven at times like this because I know that it will finally be the place where I don't have to say goodbye. And if I do it will be with the knowledge that I'll see you at some other time in eternity. I'll have my Indian children, my American families, my friends, and all the other people whole love Jesus like me.
The experience shall indeed be the best. I'll laugh with my Indian kids and then hang out with my America family. I'll ride a kangaroo one moment and then talk to a stranger about how Jesus brought them to our Home.
I can't imagine the joy that will be in place. But I do know it will be joy forever more.
Some of my kids will come back in a couple of weeks. Some won't. I may see Alex again, or I may not. I may come back to Indian again, or I may not. It's all a bunch of "if's" "and's" and "but's".
Even with all these questions, I'm praying fervently for one thing right now. And that is that we all will go to heaven and live with Jesus forevermore.
At least then, we don't have to worried about "coming back" to anything because everything and everyone will always be right there.
And that, well...
Bless. Bless it all.
Kameron Carter
In less than two weeks, 5 people very dear to me have left either temporarily or permanently. Miss Alex, the midwife from Puerto Rico left for the states yesterday. Don't worry, we didn't fall in love and aren't getting married. However, she was fun and great to have around, to talk about foolishness with, eat pancakes with, share American times with Ella and I. She is missed. With her, I lost one of my sons, Robert. Robert was sent as her bodyguard because he's so big and scary, but very nice and a great kid. He also has business to do with his school. Thankfully, he will return.
Then there are Kristina and Grace, two of my daughters, both of which told me they were leaving at the last minute. I was so upset. Thankfully Kristina will come back. However, Grace told me that she won't. It all happened so fast. She told me she needed pictures but I told her I was busy. She responded with this being the only time available because she wasn't coming back.
Then I flipped over the campus in my anger.
I said my last good byes and all to her just a couple of moments ago.
And then, there is Muthu. Muthu is very near to my favorite child, little brother who is not my brother, son ever. I spend the most time with this one. He was the first one to say hello to me when I arrived. He always comes to my room, at least 6 times a day, normally just to say hello and check on me and ask me If I think his hair looks nice. He jokes with me constantly, and we go on adventures together. He was one of the only ones who didn't let our football schism destroy our relationship. And I appreciated that.
He's going to get some school business done too and see the doctor. He says he will be back in a couple of weeks and I pray that it's so. My life shall be severely lacking with this one not in it. Plus when he returns I'll only have like 20 something days left with him and that is daunting.
Actually all of these goodbyes, starting with Alex and Robert have been wake up calls. Reminders that, "hey! You're about to leave these kids for real now, potentially indefinitely."
I'm not sure I'll come back. It took Ella 5 years. Granted. She had school and I don't; but still.
I really want to come back. For many who have talked to me, I have expressed how I don't even want to go. The kids are going to strap me to the ceiling of the hostel and take all my stuff. I'm fine with that.
I've been looking at my countdown a lot more recently, trying to prepare myself. But I think I'm going to stop and just try and enjoy the moment.
Cassie, my best friend, told me to start taking pictures of the ordinary day to day, those activities that you don't think twice about doing, but it's apart of my current life. I will miss it and wish I could visualize it. I'll take advantage of this.
All these goodbyes are making me enjoy more of the simple things, laugh so much more, just being with my kids cause I can be. I want to know more about them, hang out, go on adventures, teach them and show them Jesus hopefully.
I really look forward to heaven at times like this because I know that it will finally be the place where I don't have to say goodbye. And if I do it will be with the knowledge that I'll see you at some other time in eternity. I'll have my Indian children, my American families, my friends, and all the other people whole love Jesus like me.
The experience shall indeed be the best. I'll laugh with my Indian kids and then hang out with my America family. I'll ride a kangaroo one moment and then talk to a stranger about how Jesus brought them to our Home.
I can't imagine the joy that will be in place. But I do know it will be joy forever more.
Some of my kids will come back in a couple of weeks. Some won't. I may see Alex again, or I may not. I may come back to Indian again, or I may not. It's all a bunch of "if's" "and's" and "but's".
Even with all these questions, I'm praying fervently for one thing right now. And that is that we all will go to heaven and live with Jesus forevermore.
At least then, we don't have to worried about "coming back" to anything because everything and everyone will always be right there.
And that, well...
Bless. Bless it all.
Kameron Carter
Tuesday, October 6, 2015
Hope for Us All
"We need to get out of the habit of saying that 'all we can do is pray' when in reality, it's the best thing we can do."
All this drama has kept the wall up with my boys. They dug their own hole and then put a wall there, not allowing me or anyone to help them out. It's been a rough couple of days.
We've all been praying a lot. The girls especially have been trying to convince the 3 boys who quit choir practice to join so that we can have the whole group together and praise Jesus as a team. After their practice this Wednesday, they actually initiated a group prayer session where they all kneeled, held hands in a circle and prayed for each boy individually. There are about 15 girls so the boys were showered plenty. My heart was so filled with joy when I saw it happening. My kids believed in Jesus.
Even though it's been sticky for me and 7 of the 9 boys, I've been thankful to have two this whole time. My son Muthu has been the same; he always comes to check on me, asks me how his hair looks, talks to me about his love for the midwife students, and brings me all his medical problems. We still hang out and go places. He wasn't even phased by all the drama.
Suban is a very joyous easy going guy and also seemed fine with everything. Moreover, he doesn't think I did anything wrong or out of place. He sees thing my way more often than the other boys (not that that is what it's about). So there has been no change there.
The rest of the boys, especially some of the younger ones have really been side stepping me and giving me the cold shoulder. So I've been praying fervently and giving them space.
My biggest prayer for them has been for God to help them find peace in their hearts and let go, and not let anything get in the way of them doing work for the Lord: not lack of money, lack of talent, schisms involving some members (me). I don't want them to get in the habit of ever rejecting a call to minister with the Gospel; it could be an eternal life and death scenario.
I've solicited prayers from home too. I can feel them falling from above. Praying has become a wonderful thing for me. Something I very much enjoy and have been doing more often. It's becoming more and more of my first resort instead of my last.
We were a little worried about the all-boys practice this Thursday. Who would show up? Who would not? The performance was this weekend and we needed all the voices to be lifted up. Prayers were being sent up on all sides and the girls were trying their hardest to convince the boys to come.
That Thursday at all-boys practice, only a few boys showed up. Some of the other boys had been recruited to not sing. Even though it was sad, we continued to pray and were convinced that angels would sing with us on sabbath.
I continued to give space to the boys without letting them just do whatever they wanted. It was awkward at times but I knew that they would be unable to interact with me for awhile. I began to ask the other kids, who knew them longer, how long the tension and grudge would last. Some said it would last until I left. Others said it wouldn't last long. Still others said it would just depend on each boy specifically. I was nervous regardless.
"Could a 7-plus month good relationship with my boys seriously be ruined over a trivial sports game? After all the laughs, all the times we've been there for each other, I've taken care of you and you of me, all the meals we shared, all the games we played, all the deep talks and time we spent together? Is it over? Will I go home thinking my boys don't want anything to do with me?"
Lots of questions. Lots of loneliness. It's not like there are other boys staff here my age, so the boys are my social life and joy and love and everything else. I kept praying and waiting. What else was I to do?
Friday night after vespers, all those still faithful to the cause gathered for choir. Only four boys showed up initially. We began to practice our last time, thinking that it would just be us.
Wow how the devil has messed with the waters on this one. He was doing a great job. However, I knew our God would do a better job.
In the middle of practice, all of a sudden, two of the 3 boys who had actually quit choir, came walking in and sat down to sing. Alabanza! It was so much that all the girls began to cry during the next song and we had to stop and start over many a time. During the next song, during one of the choruses, I heard that deep base section that I hadn't heard in a couple of days and thought I would never hear again. It filled my heart with joy and my eyes did sweat a bit.
I knew it didn't mean that we were ok personally. But I knew the Lord would still be able to do work through them. And that was a bless moment. Cause it's all about Jesus.
We sang our hearts out and prayed a thanksgiving prayer. I'm sure the Joy was nil compared to the joy heaven receives when a soul comes back to Christ after going astray, after that sheep has been found.
Now we were just waiting for the morning. Not all of the normally faithful boys showed up for whatever reason. We weren't sure what the next day would hold. We gave it to Jesus.
The next morning there was excitement and nervousness in the air. The boys were getting up, but I wasn't sure for what. I just continued to say quick prayers of conviction upon the boys hearts that they would not let the devil win.
When it came time to go, only three of the boys got in the truck as it pulled out. I thought we had been defeated; but then I remembered that angels would sing. Even when others don't accept the call, the Lord will raise others up. I was just sad that the boys had allowed this issue to go this far. All over football.
But then I saw hope. We pulled down past the hostel where the boys normally hop on the truck at last minute. Then, slowly but surely, every single boy came down! Hallelu! It truly was a sight and it took everything in me to not grin past where my lips would anatomically go.
They came for Jesus. And I was thankful.
I was only slightly worried. This was not a field trip for any who simply wanted to go to the city. This was a ministry, and so I expected all attending to lift their voices and not just be enjoying in the pews. I wasn't sure how I would handle that kind of selfishness.
The ride to the church was long and rough with lots of vomiting and car sickness. But eventually made it.
We all got dressed and ready to sing. Well, all but one. This was the one boy who no one seems to understand. He's displayed a lot of selfishness and self-centeredness in the past and can be the hardest of my boys to love just because of his personality. When I asked him about wearing a white shirt and tie for the performance, he said he didn't need it. I was just thinking he was going to sing in his purple unbuttoned shirt. I wasn't going to argue because he was at least there. When we sat in our seats, ready to sing, he was in the other pews, watching us. It was then that I realized that he was not going to sing.
My blood began to boil. I was mad, upset, disappointed and just saddened that someone could make such a decision and be like, "whatever." However, I quickly prayed for forgiveness and asked the Lord to help me focus. I knew the devil was trying to distract me and have my mind back on myself and not on this mission.
In the end, even with all the struggle of trying to run the program smoothly, I think the Lord blessed. It was all pretty nice. The people were blessed, we were blessed, I was.
When we left that day, from our final choir performance, I remembered my boys. One of them actually approached me to help him tie his tie that he really likes. He didn't have to do that. Some of the others looked at me and one actually made a joke.
Maybe there was hope. Maybe I wouldn't be forever alone for the next month and a half. That would be miserable. My boys are much of why I'm here. I never had plans on leaving early, but they are the reason I don't want to ever leave. I think the wall in between us will slowly slowly come crashing down. Maybe not with all of them, but I'll take what I can. Even one more of my sons returning is worth a bunch of joy.
Some many Jesus parallels.
I'll be patient for now. And have hope.
Here's to hoping.
Bless. Alabanza. Praise.
Kameron Carter
All this drama has kept the wall up with my boys. They dug their own hole and then put a wall there, not allowing me or anyone to help them out. It's been a rough couple of days.
We've all been praying a lot. The girls especially have been trying to convince the 3 boys who quit choir practice to join so that we can have the whole group together and praise Jesus as a team. After their practice this Wednesday, they actually initiated a group prayer session where they all kneeled, held hands in a circle and prayed for each boy individually. There are about 15 girls so the boys were showered plenty. My heart was so filled with joy when I saw it happening. My kids believed in Jesus.
Even though it's been sticky for me and 7 of the 9 boys, I've been thankful to have two this whole time. My son Muthu has been the same; he always comes to check on me, asks me how his hair looks, talks to me about his love for the midwife students, and brings me all his medical problems. We still hang out and go places. He wasn't even phased by all the drama.
Suban is a very joyous easy going guy and also seemed fine with everything. Moreover, he doesn't think I did anything wrong or out of place. He sees thing my way more often than the other boys (not that that is what it's about). So there has been no change there.
The rest of the boys, especially some of the younger ones have really been side stepping me and giving me the cold shoulder. So I've been praying fervently and giving them space.
My biggest prayer for them has been for God to help them find peace in their hearts and let go, and not let anything get in the way of them doing work for the Lord: not lack of money, lack of talent, schisms involving some members (me). I don't want them to get in the habit of ever rejecting a call to minister with the Gospel; it could be an eternal life and death scenario.
I've solicited prayers from home too. I can feel them falling from above. Praying has become a wonderful thing for me. Something I very much enjoy and have been doing more often. It's becoming more and more of my first resort instead of my last.
We were a little worried about the all-boys practice this Thursday. Who would show up? Who would not? The performance was this weekend and we needed all the voices to be lifted up. Prayers were being sent up on all sides and the girls were trying their hardest to convince the boys to come.
That Thursday at all-boys practice, only a few boys showed up. Some of the other boys had been recruited to not sing. Even though it was sad, we continued to pray and were convinced that angels would sing with us on sabbath.
I continued to give space to the boys without letting them just do whatever they wanted. It was awkward at times but I knew that they would be unable to interact with me for awhile. I began to ask the other kids, who knew them longer, how long the tension and grudge would last. Some said it would last until I left. Others said it wouldn't last long. Still others said it would just depend on each boy specifically. I was nervous regardless.
"Could a 7-plus month good relationship with my boys seriously be ruined over a trivial sports game? After all the laughs, all the times we've been there for each other, I've taken care of you and you of me, all the meals we shared, all the games we played, all the deep talks and time we spent together? Is it over? Will I go home thinking my boys don't want anything to do with me?"
Lots of questions. Lots of loneliness. It's not like there are other boys staff here my age, so the boys are my social life and joy and love and everything else. I kept praying and waiting. What else was I to do?
Friday night after vespers, all those still faithful to the cause gathered for choir. Only four boys showed up initially. We began to practice our last time, thinking that it would just be us.
Wow how the devil has messed with the waters on this one. He was doing a great job. However, I knew our God would do a better job.
In the middle of practice, all of a sudden, two of the 3 boys who had actually quit choir, came walking in and sat down to sing. Alabanza! It was so much that all the girls began to cry during the next song and we had to stop and start over many a time. During the next song, during one of the choruses, I heard that deep base section that I hadn't heard in a couple of days and thought I would never hear again. It filled my heart with joy and my eyes did sweat a bit.
I knew it didn't mean that we were ok personally. But I knew the Lord would still be able to do work through them. And that was a bless moment. Cause it's all about Jesus.
We sang our hearts out and prayed a thanksgiving prayer. I'm sure the Joy was nil compared to the joy heaven receives when a soul comes back to Christ after going astray, after that sheep has been found.
Now we were just waiting for the morning. Not all of the normally faithful boys showed up for whatever reason. We weren't sure what the next day would hold. We gave it to Jesus.
The next morning there was excitement and nervousness in the air. The boys were getting up, but I wasn't sure for what. I just continued to say quick prayers of conviction upon the boys hearts that they would not let the devil win.
When it came time to go, only three of the boys got in the truck as it pulled out. I thought we had been defeated; but then I remembered that angels would sing. Even when others don't accept the call, the Lord will raise others up. I was just sad that the boys had allowed this issue to go this far. All over football.
But then I saw hope. We pulled down past the hostel where the boys normally hop on the truck at last minute. Then, slowly but surely, every single boy came down! Hallelu! It truly was a sight and it took everything in me to not grin past where my lips would anatomically go.
They came for Jesus. And I was thankful.
I was only slightly worried. This was not a field trip for any who simply wanted to go to the city. This was a ministry, and so I expected all attending to lift their voices and not just be enjoying in the pews. I wasn't sure how I would handle that kind of selfishness.
The ride to the church was long and rough with lots of vomiting and car sickness. But eventually made it.
We all got dressed and ready to sing. Well, all but one. This was the one boy who no one seems to understand. He's displayed a lot of selfishness and self-centeredness in the past and can be the hardest of my boys to love just because of his personality. When I asked him about wearing a white shirt and tie for the performance, he said he didn't need it. I was just thinking he was going to sing in his purple unbuttoned shirt. I wasn't going to argue because he was at least there. When we sat in our seats, ready to sing, he was in the other pews, watching us. It was then that I realized that he was not going to sing.
My blood began to boil. I was mad, upset, disappointed and just saddened that someone could make such a decision and be like, "whatever." However, I quickly prayed for forgiveness and asked the Lord to help me focus. I knew the devil was trying to distract me and have my mind back on myself and not on this mission.
In the end, even with all the struggle of trying to run the program smoothly, I think the Lord blessed. It was all pretty nice. The people were blessed, we were blessed, I was.
When we left that day, from our final choir performance, I remembered my boys. One of them actually approached me to help him tie his tie that he really likes. He didn't have to do that. Some of the others looked at me and one actually made a joke.
Maybe there was hope. Maybe I wouldn't be forever alone for the next month and a half. That would be miserable. My boys are much of why I'm here. I never had plans on leaving early, but they are the reason I don't want to ever leave. I think the wall in between us will slowly slowly come crashing down. Maybe not with all of them, but I'll take what I can. Even one more of my sons returning is worth a bunch of joy.
Some many Jesus parallels.
I'll be patient for now. And have hope.
Here's to hoping.
Bless. Alabanza. Praise.
Kameron Carter
Sunday, October 4, 2015
The Spirit of Rebellion
"The act of rebellion is like falling on one's own sword. You stab yourself in the back and nothing good comes out of it."
That night at choir practice, 3 of the boys simply didn't come. This is right after we had our talk concerning their punishment in which I met much resistance. They had talked about not doing choir anymore, however I didn't think they would quit on the last week before our big last performance. I knew it was an act of rebellion and unfortunately, everyone suffered for it.
I thought I would talk to them in the morning.
I talked to my dad and my director both about the drama going on in the hostel. I was surprised when they thought that I handled the situation with wisdom, love, and a firm hand. They both told me to not let up on the consequence, especially since there was attitude concerning when I would tell them my decision and 3 of the boys didn't come to worship. So the decision was made. Don't back down.
The boys were up quite early that next morning; this was odd. I always had to drag the boys out of bed to get them anywhere. And now they were up... But they were conspiring. Little whispers rang clear through the wall.
"We should go play football now. He didn't say we couldn't play in the morning time."
This was indeed a true statement. I didn't mention anything about morning. That's because no one ever got up in the morning for it. They always slept. Still, would playing in the morning negate the punishment I initially gave?
I prayed about it all and decided to wait. I would only dig deeper into a decision if they decided to play.
I got up and walked around, as if I was just roaming and poked my head around. Some of the boys were exercising in the hostel. Others were at the far field in the distance, doing something. It was very unclear as to their activities. I didn't think I saw a football. I decided not to assume and think the best of my boys. They passed the morning test.
The rest of the day went well. It was a little awkward in class as there was still some anger and frustration. Then I went to work with the kids down at the river. We were collecting rocks. I did my share of work and had a great time with all my kids. Then I retired to my house for some other work.
Close to 4:30 pm the boys came up from work. They were excited, thinking they were finally up early enough to play football. When they asked about their punishment, I told them that everything was the same. Saddened and frustrated, they departed. I went back to my room for more work.
A little time past, and then I heard it again: the whispers of rebellion.
"We should go play football. This punishment is not fair and stupid. I won't follow. Come on guys lets go play" along with other things were said.
My heart began to weep at this moment. "Don't do it guys" I thought. Their decision would be completely reckless, selfish, and unwise. There was nothing good that could come out of this decision. I knew my boys better and truly didn't think they would go down this road.
It got quiet. Then I heard the moving of feet again. I looked outside and was completely in awe of what I saw. There they were, six of the boys walking down the hill with one of their balls. I had only taken one of the 3 balls they had in an effort to help them not be tempted to play. Yet it didn't work. My heart truly was heavy. "Why would they do this to themselves?! You're playing a game that you're not going to win. Let's not play this game!"
Some of my thoughts.
Just to be sure that all weren't guilty of this rebellious act, I walked through the hostel to see if any of the boys were there. There were two faithful. One was doing other non related work instead of exercising, while the other was exercising as I instructed. He also stopped as I instructed and went and took bath at the right time as well. I was very happy and I had a little bit of faith restored in my boys. However, my heart still hurt for the other 6, the ones who decided to choose sacrifice over obedience.
It made me think of me and Jesus. Very often I make the rebellious decision even though my heart and mind clearly know the way of the Lord. How their actions mirrored the life of a sinner and our loving God. Even though our God loves us from his bleeding forehead to his pierced feet, disobedience and sin have their consequence.
I went and informed my director about their behavior. I felt like a tattle-tell. He witnessed the rebellion as well with his own eyes. He wrote the names down of those who offended and told me he would deal with it.
When the boys returned at 5:35, I didn't say anything. Not only had they blatantly disobeyed my rules, they didn't even come up at the right time. They were 20 min late. A little late for my comfort. In the end they were on time for worship, but still my heart was heavy with the trouble that was about to come for them. I let them live in a state of ignorance for awhile. But I knew what was coming. I almost didn't want it to come.
The next morning after worship, our director called the boys together. My heart was thumping, for I felt something rough about to unfold.
I was called in about 20 min after the boys. When I walked in the room, I could feel and see the tension and anger in the boy's body language. I sat down. Then our director spoke
"The boys claim they are always on time."
I almost cursed out loud. But Jesus took the wheel. Seriously. I was not ready for that statement.
I gained my composure and spoke. I explained to Major that the boys's tardiness and inability to follow simple rules was the reason why we were having these issues. Therefore that was not even a good excuse or a valid one at all.
No one defended themselves, so Major Sir (our director) spoke. He told the boys that the problem wasn't about them playing games. It was about their attitude towards the games. The campus doesn't even support sports; however we have let the boys play for the time that we have. The games weren't necessarily a right but a gift.
"Why can't you play games for just one week. That's all we're asking. Can you guys do that?!" Major said.
"No, we can do it. We can not play if you tell us not to play." That was the voice of one of the youngest boys who happens to lack the most maturity and was the main voice who spoke out the past couple of days. However it was said with such attitude like "whatever, you won't take it away. We don't care. We're calling your bluff"
His response caught my attention. "Uh oh. Don't do that. One of the worst things you can do with authority when you're in trouble is to have attitude and be smart to the mouth. That will always end bad"
My thoughts
Major responded with a quick come back. "Then why aren't you following the rules? What do you want? Do you want us to take away all the games?! We can take away games completely. We can just say no more games from this point on. Do you want us to take away the games?!"
My eyes lit up as he said this. I knew very well that someone was going to respond with a wise crack comment and ruin it all. And as soon as this thought crossed my mind, it became reality.
That same boy, young, angry, and quick to speak, piped up with a, "Yea! Take away the games. We don't need to play at all. It's ok. Just get rid of them." All with the same attitude. But worse.
I ran my head into a wall in my imagination. "DUMB!!"
The other 5 boys were in shock and their eyes got wide. But no one said a thing.
Major broke the silence. "Alright. No more games at all. No more football, no more volleyball, no games, nothing! If that's what you want, then we'll give it to you. No more games from this point onward until further notice."
More silence as the boys seemed to take it all in. Then one of them finally said something. "Wait sir! Just take away football. We want volleyball and the other games. Just take football."
However, his words were unable to dig them out of the hole that my young son dug for them.
"It's too late" said Major. "Your friend has already spoken for you. We will give you what you want. No more games at all. You are dismissed"
The boys left with their heads down and anger in their faces and hearts. So sad and unfortunate to watch. Then three of the boys came to the table to talk to Major.
They asked if they could stop choir because they didn't like it anymore and weren't enjoying it. They didn't know if it was an option because I had told them it wasn't since we were doing it as our worship and they were so involved in it.
Major told them to talk to Alex, the choir director and then have her decide. So they left.
I was so mad. I didn't want them to be able to quit. I knew the only reason they wanted to quit is because they were getting back at me, and the choir was kinda the source of them getting in trouble. They dug and fell into their own hole and now they were trying to spitefully, with revenge and selfishness, take down everyone else with them too. Their decision was going to negatively affect everyone: the rest of the boys, the girls, our choir director, the church if we went to sing, and most importantly themselves. They were going to miss out on doing a service work for the Lord because of football. I understood they were upset but this behavior was beyond me to quite understand.
When we brought Alex into the office, she told us that the boys had just come and talked to her and she couldn't convince them otherwise. At first I was for them staying in the choir because it was going to severely affect everyone. However, in the end, we decided it wasn't smart to force them to sing, in case they had some plans to sabotage the songs or the event. Better to trust in God and have faith that angels would sing with us.
And so that's what we did. We let them have their way. We decided it better to pray and try and convince them to join then do anything by force.
Everything was sticky and sad. It was that moment that I felt a big wall divide the boys and I, and I wasn't sure how it was going to be knocked down, if it would be moved at all.
I'm not sure what's going to happen. I just know that I've just lost my boys and I'm not sure if I'll get them back.
Mercy.
Kameron Carter
That night at choir practice, 3 of the boys simply didn't come. This is right after we had our talk concerning their punishment in which I met much resistance. They had talked about not doing choir anymore, however I didn't think they would quit on the last week before our big last performance. I knew it was an act of rebellion and unfortunately, everyone suffered for it.
I thought I would talk to them in the morning.
I talked to my dad and my director both about the drama going on in the hostel. I was surprised when they thought that I handled the situation with wisdom, love, and a firm hand. They both told me to not let up on the consequence, especially since there was attitude concerning when I would tell them my decision and 3 of the boys didn't come to worship. So the decision was made. Don't back down.
The boys were up quite early that next morning; this was odd. I always had to drag the boys out of bed to get them anywhere. And now they were up... But they were conspiring. Little whispers rang clear through the wall.
"We should go play football now. He didn't say we couldn't play in the morning time."
This was indeed a true statement. I didn't mention anything about morning. That's because no one ever got up in the morning for it. They always slept. Still, would playing in the morning negate the punishment I initially gave?
I prayed about it all and decided to wait. I would only dig deeper into a decision if they decided to play.
I got up and walked around, as if I was just roaming and poked my head around. Some of the boys were exercising in the hostel. Others were at the far field in the distance, doing something. It was very unclear as to their activities. I didn't think I saw a football. I decided not to assume and think the best of my boys. They passed the morning test.
The rest of the day went well. It was a little awkward in class as there was still some anger and frustration. Then I went to work with the kids down at the river. We were collecting rocks. I did my share of work and had a great time with all my kids. Then I retired to my house for some other work.
Close to 4:30 pm the boys came up from work. They were excited, thinking they were finally up early enough to play football. When they asked about their punishment, I told them that everything was the same. Saddened and frustrated, they departed. I went back to my room for more work.
A little time past, and then I heard it again: the whispers of rebellion.
"We should go play football. This punishment is not fair and stupid. I won't follow. Come on guys lets go play" along with other things were said.
My heart began to weep at this moment. "Don't do it guys" I thought. Their decision would be completely reckless, selfish, and unwise. There was nothing good that could come out of this decision. I knew my boys better and truly didn't think they would go down this road.
It got quiet. Then I heard the moving of feet again. I looked outside and was completely in awe of what I saw. There they were, six of the boys walking down the hill with one of their balls. I had only taken one of the 3 balls they had in an effort to help them not be tempted to play. Yet it didn't work. My heart truly was heavy. "Why would they do this to themselves?! You're playing a game that you're not going to win. Let's not play this game!"
Some of my thoughts.
Just to be sure that all weren't guilty of this rebellious act, I walked through the hostel to see if any of the boys were there. There were two faithful. One was doing other non related work instead of exercising, while the other was exercising as I instructed. He also stopped as I instructed and went and took bath at the right time as well. I was very happy and I had a little bit of faith restored in my boys. However, my heart still hurt for the other 6, the ones who decided to choose sacrifice over obedience.
It made me think of me and Jesus. Very often I make the rebellious decision even though my heart and mind clearly know the way of the Lord. How their actions mirrored the life of a sinner and our loving God. Even though our God loves us from his bleeding forehead to his pierced feet, disobedience and sin have their consequence.
I went and informed my director about their behavior. I felt like a tattle-tell. He witnessed the rebellion as well with his own eyes. He wrote the names down of those who offended and told me he would deal with it.
When the boys returned at 5:35, I didn't say anything. Not only had they blatantly disobeyed my rules, they didn't even come up at the right time. They were 20 min late. A little late for my comfort. In the end they were on time for worship, but still my heart was heavy with the trouble that was about to come for them. I let them live in a state of ignorance for awhile. But I knew what was coming. I almost didn't want it to come.
The next morning after worship, our director called the boys together. My heart was thumping, for I felt something rough about to unfold.
I was called in about 20 min after the boys. When I walked in the room, I could feel and see the tension and anger in the boy's body language. I sat down. Then our director spoke
"The boys claim they are always on time."
I almost cursed out loud. But Jesus took the wheel. Seriously. I was not ready for that statement.
I gained my composure and spoke. I explained to Major that the boys's tardiness and inability to follow simple rules was the reason why we were having these issues. Therefore that was not even a good excuse or a valid one at all.
No one defended themselves, so Major Sir (our director) spoke. He told the boys that the problem wasn't about them playing games. It was about their attitude towards the games. The campus doesn't even support sports; however we have let the boys play for the time that we have. The games weren't necessarily a right but a gift.
"Why can't you play games for just one week. That's all we're asking. Can you guys do that?!" Major said.
"No, we can do it. We can not play if you tell us not to play." That was the voice of one of the youngest boys who happens to lack the most maturity and was the main voice who spoke out the past couple of days. However it was said with such attitude like "whatever, you won't take it away. We don't care. We're calling your bluff"
His response caught my attention. "Uh oh. Don't do that. One of the worst things you can do with authority when you're in trouble is to have attitude and be smart to the mouth. That will always end bad"
My thoughts
Major responded with a quick come back. "Then why aren't you following the rules? What do you want? Do you want us to take away all the games?! We can take away games completely. We can just say no more games from this point on. Do you want us to take away the games?!"
My eyes lit up as he said this. I knew very well that someone was going to respond with a wise crack comment and ruin it all. And as soon as this thought crossed my mind, it became reality.
That same boy, young, angry, and quick to speak, piped up with a, "Yea! Take away the games. We don't need to play at all. It's ok. Just get rid of them." All with the same attitude. But worse.
I ran my head into a wall in my imagination. "DUMB!!"
The other 5 boys were in shock and their eyes got wide. But no one said a thing.
Major broke the silence. "Alright. No more games at all. No more football, no more volleyball, no games, nothing! If that's what you want, then we'll give it to you. No more games from this point onward until further notice."
More silence as the boys seemed to take it all in. Then one of them finally said something. "Wait sir! Just take away football. We want volleyball and the other games. Just take football."
However, his words were unable to dig them out of the hole that my young son dug for them.
"It's too late" said Major. "Your friend has already spoken for you. We will give you what you want. No more games at all. You are dismissed"
The boys left with their heads down and anger in their faces and hearts. So sad and unfortunate to watch. Then three of the boys came to the table to talk to Major.
They asked if they could stop choir because they didn't like it anymore and weren't enjoying it. They didn't know if it was an option because I had told them it wasn't since we were doing it as our worship and they were so involved in it.
Major told them to talk to Alex, the choir director and then have her decide. So they left.
I was so mad. I didn't want them to be able to quit. I knew the only reason they wanted to quit is because they were getting back at me, and the choir was kinda the source of them getting in trouble. They dug and fell into their own hole and now they were trying to spitefully, with revenge and selfishness, take down everyone else with them too. Their decision was going to negatively affect everyone: the rest of the boys, the girls, our choir director, the church if we went to sing, and most importantly themselves. They were going to miss out on doing a service work for the Lord because of football. I understood they were upset but this behavior was beyond me to quite understand.
When we brought Alex into the office, she told us that the boys had just come and talked to her and she couldn't convince them otherwise. At first I was for them staying in the choir because it was going to severely affect everyone. However, in the end, we decided it wasn't smart to force them to sing, in case they had some plans to sabotage the songs or the event. Better to trust in God and have faith that angels would sing with us.
And so that's what we did. We let them have their way. We decided it better to pray and try and convince them to join then do anything by force.
Everything was sticky and sad. It was that moment that I felt a big wall divide the boys and I, and I wasn't sure how it was going to be knocked down, if it would be moved at all.
I'm not sure what's going to happen. I just know that I've just lost my boys and I'm not sure if I'll get them back.
Mercy.
Kameron Carter
Monday, September 28, 2015
Sir Kam 1, Enemy 1
"Parents and authority, take the time to listen to those underneath you. You may just find that you were even slightly wrong the whole time"
A shout out to parents for their difficult job of raising kids. A shout out to kids who have to bear it all when their parents make a mistake it raising them.
Being in authority is hard. Probably one of the hardest things I have ever done. Being a boys dean of kids who are pretty much your age is also very difficult. But how it has been such a growing experience.
Things have been a little more relaxed here on the compound and it has caused some problems for both the girls and the boys. As well I have passed the honeymoon stage with the kids, meaning that I no longer think they are perfect little angels, lacking flaws. We all have our flaws. They boys have been late to different functions recently, mainly evening worships. This would normally not be a problem; however we have been doing choir for about a month now and we have had limited time to practice every day (30 min) all that we know. Being late to this especially wastes our choir director's time and upsets her and prevent its from really doing anything productive.
One of the reasons of being late is because sometimes the boys play football late, and then they can't get ready in time for the worship. They have an hour to take a bath and eat and put on new clothes but sometimes they are unable to accomplish that in the time they are given. Sometimes however, work goes over time, and so they play over time, they don't get ready in time, they're late to our practice, they eat during study hall, they don't study, and it just continues.
So I've been getting on to them about being better stewards of their time. At first they were doing ok when the first punishment was given. Then they would fall off the wagon. Then they would get back on and then fall off again. Kinda up and down and our choir lady was getting fairly annoyed and upset.
So I began to threaten some of their free time with the intention that they would be more on time if football playing was on the line. It kinda worked. The whole time I felt like i was giving plenty grace and mercy.
But then they fell off the wagon again. And I saw defiance starting to arise
So this time I gave the full ultimatum: because they couldn't eat their food and get ready on time in that hour and balance their time, they wouldn't be able to play football for a week. Seems a little harsh.
Even though not all were fully guilty, the punishment was universal. I did this with the intention of having someone step up to the plate and lead the boys to get their stuff done because I don't want chaos to ensue when I leave.
Well as you can imagine, they didn't take it very well. After I finished talking, they let their opinions out about the nature of the situation, the punishment, other things, how they weren't going to obey and pretty much more plans of rebellion as a result of this punishment. I def don't agree with the last part
However, in it all their were some points made in it all: I couldn't punish them all because all weren't guilty, I didn't give them enough warning, I should have given them another chance, the punishment didn't fit the crime, they were late because sometimes they were late coming back from work which is why they played later and were thus late to everything else, etc.
Some points were valid. Others I didn't think so. In the end I still listened.
For I think it can be very easy to let power cloud judgment and skew a decision that is made. In other cases, sometimes, parents and authority are wrong and we make mistakes.
Even though I didn't believe in the spirit of rebellion as a result of the punishment, I did consider their last appeal.
One of my boys suggested that I didn't give them enough warning before giving a punishment and that I should allow them to prove themselves. So I would give them my watch and they would come up from playing on time, and everything else would work itself out.
I listened and told them I will consider their appeal as they very angrily left and griped and moaned concerning everything.
I'm thinking about it. I'm thinking about how Jesus give grace and mercy. And I'm wondering in what places have I made a mistake. In what places was I right. In what places were the kids being kids and in which cases were they being adults. It what place was I an adult and in what place was I a kid.
So many questions. I'm considering their proposition and even made a flow chart of the possible outcomes of this scenario.
I've been praying a lot.
Why is this all do hard!?
This story shall be continued. The outcome of it all shall be told.
May Jesus be in the center. And may God help us all.
Alabanza
* sorry I didn't spell check. I was in a rush *
Kameron Carter
A shout out to parents for their difficult job of raising kids. A shout out to kids who have to bear it all when their parents make a mistake it raising them.
Being in authority is hard. Probably one of the hardest things I have ever done. Being a boys dean of kids who are pretty much your age is also very difficult. But how it has been such a growing experience.
Things have been a little more relaxed here on the compound and it has caused some problems for both the girls and the boys. As well I have passed the honeymoon stage with the kids, meaning that I no longer think they are perfect little angels, lacking flaws. We all have our flaws. They boys have been late to different functions recently, mainly evening worships. This would normally not be a problem; however we have been doing choir for about a month now and we have had limited time to practice every day (30 min) all that we know. Being late to this especially wastes our choir director's time and upsets her and prevent its from really doing anything productive.
One of the reasons of being late is because sometimes the boys play football late, and then they can't get ready in time for the worship. They have an hour to take a bath and eat and put on new clothes but sometimes they are unable to accomplish that in the time they are given. Sometimes however, work goes over time, and so they play over time, they don't get ready in time, they're late to our practice, they eat during study hall, they don't study, and it just continues.
So I've been getting on to them about being better stewards of their time. At first they were doing ok when the first punishment was given. Then they would fall off the wagon. Then they would get back on and then fall off again. Kinda up and down and our choir lady was getting fairly annoyed and upset.
So I began to threaten some of their free time with the intention that they would be more on time if football playing was on the line. It kinda worked. The whole time I felt like i was giving plenty grace and mercy.
But then they fell off the wagon again. And I saw defiance starting to arise
So this time I gave the full ultimatum: because they couldn't eat their food and get ready on time in that hour and balance their time, they wouldn't be able to play football for a week. Seems a little harsh.
Even though not all were fully guilty, the punishment was universal. I did this with the intention of having someone step up to the plate and lead the boys to get their stuff done because I don't want chaos to ensue when I leave.
Well as you can imagine, they didn't take it very well. After I finished talking, they let their opinions out about the nature of the situation, the punishment, other things, how they weren't going to obey and pretty much more plans of rebellion as a result of this punishment. I def don't agree with the last part
However, in it all their were some points made in it all: I couldn't punish them all because all weren't guilty, I didn't give them enough warning, I should have given them another chance, the punishment didn't fit the crime, they were late because sometimes they were late coming back from work which is why they played later and were thus late to everything else, etc.
Some points were valid. Others I didn't think so. In the end I still listened.
For I think it can be very easy to let power cloud judgment and skew a decision that is made. In other cases, sometimes, parents and authority are wrong and we make mistakes.
Even though I didn't believe in the spirit of rebellion as a result of the punishment, I did consider their last appeal.
One of my boys suggested that I didn't give them enough warning before giving a punishment and that I should allow them to prove themselves. So I would give them my watch and they would come up from playing on time, and everything else would work itself out.
I listened and told them I will consider their appeal as they very angrily left and griped and moaned concerning everything.
I'm thinking about it. I'm thinking about how Jesus give grace and mercy. And I'm wondering in what places have I made a mistake. In what places was I right. In what places were the kids being kids and in which cases were they being adults. It what place was I an adult and in what place was I a kid.
So many questions. I'm considering their proposition and even made a flow chart of the possible outcomes of this scenario.
I've been praying a lot.
Why is this all do hard!?
This story shall be continued. The outcome of it all shall be told.
May Jesus be in the center. And may God help us all.
Alabanza
* sorry I didn't spell check. I was in a rush *
Kameron Carter
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)