365 days of Separation

"Even when more time passes, it doesn't necessarily get easier. You just become more accepting of the things you can't change."

365 days ago, I was scrambling for the last couple of things to put in my bag. 

I was finishing up the final touches of the kids' gifts and putting them into a box

I was gathering the belongings I didn't want to take back to America with me. 

I was preparing to leave home. 

I remember how fast it all happened. I gave some quick hugs to the boys down in the hostel and went up to load my things into the winger. I gave the girls their pictures from me with little messages. I tried to keep looking in their faces to remember exactly how the Lord made each one uniquely different, uniquely beautiful and uniquely handsome. 

I didn't cry as I was preparing to leave even though it would happen. I know this only happened this way because I insisted/demanded that I be able to take my oldest boys (Muthu, Robert, Suban, and Silas) with me. I didn't care if I had to pay for their way there and back; I was not leaving this home alone.

In the last moments I did the one thing that was seen down upon for so long: I gave all the girls hugs. I figured it was my last day and I didn't care that it wasn't the most appropriate thing in Indian culture. I was going to hug my kids if it was the last thing I did to show them another token of my love. 

I hugged Ella last. It was tender. As my illegit wife and mother to my 27 kids, I was going to miss her most definitely. Who was going to stop the foolishness and eat pancakes with her? Who was going to make pancakes for her?? Who was going to be the pb to her J, the black to her white, the illegit husband to the family we had formed? 

I gave her a real American hug and she cried.

I got on the winger and we began to drive away and And I remember thinking this was a terrible dream. After the kids left my line of sight I remember looking up at the boys hostel and seeing Roben and Mama wave goodbye. I didn't give them a proper parting. 

The rest of the day was only bearable because I had my boys with me. They made the sting not as bad. We took pictures and laughed and reminisced. But I was crying inside. I was only going to be with them a couple more hours. Then I may never see them again. 

The airport drop off was a bit much for me. I gave them all my last pieces of young wisdom and gave them all long hugs and told them to behave. I dropped some money in their hands and pushed my bags into the airport. I kept turning back to see their faces one last time. When they were out of sight's view, that's when the realization began to hit me and I went into a state of anguish and panic. 

The tears were trying to come but I promised myself I would keep it together until I got on the plane. 

Side note: I lost it in the plane 

And so now it's been 365 days, on this blessed thanksgiving that I hit the anniversary. It's quite a way to spend thanksgiving seeing as how last time I was traveling during it and this year I have plenty to be thankful for even with them alone. 

I am thankful I had the privilege to teach and be taught. Thankful to love and be loved seriously. Thankful to be called their "sir" their "dad". 

Not everyone gets this luxury you know. Not all persons get the opportunity to love and be loved by such a great group of people. Not everyone gets the opportunity to see Jesus in such a way 

Being back in the States is still no easier today than it was at day 1. I think I'm just learning contentment with the way things are. Many days, things are falling apart overseas and I want to just play the hero and help Out my kids and family there. But then the Lord reminds me that He holds them even more closely than I do. He loves them even more deeply than I do. He's so much more for them even than I am. 

And while being here may some days be the worst, I'm learning a daily lesson that God is writing my story and right now, they just aren't in the chapter the way I would want them to be. 

Don't worry, they are still a part of my life. I have never tried so hard to stay in touch with a group of people. Calling, FaceTimeing and sending packages to them are some of my favorite pastimes. I am determined to let them know that just because I am physically gone, I am never really gone. I think it paints a faint picture of How even though Jesus isn't physically with us walking and talking with us, He's even more present in our lives than the person on the other side of that thin wall... If we let him be. 

So with that, I'll keep pushing and pressing on the upward way, and with Christ at the center, I'll make it.

I am going to see my kids in a few short months and that keeps me going too. However I am praying that the promise of seeing them in heaven forever if we all choose Jesus is a bigger push for Christ like perfection and surrender. 

Because then the only separation we'll have is one of how long it takes our wings to get us back together. And I think I can deal with that degree of separation. 

Hobey ho and Lord come quickly and grant us mercy 

6 months

"Your children growing up is one of the most tragic things a parent can face....but a far greater tragedy would be them never growing up and making their own mistakes and using their own wings. You may never have them together again in the old ways, but the new ways are just as beautiful and perhaps you treasure them more because you know how fleeting they are."  -- The Marie Tenold

I have a little less than 6 months until I get to return home. I know using the word "home" may be strange because I have been back in America for the same amount of time as I was originally gone. And that is kinda scary. Scary because it's surreal to know it actually happened. Also surreal to know that it could happen again. That I could go back. That I could see my kids again. Very surreal.

I haven't written a blog in over 8 months. That's more than half a year. I'm not really good at this blog thing. But I'm going to try to post things here and there until my return to India.

I've been talking to my kids per usual and it's still the highlight of each week when I get to hear their voices, see their faces through FaceTime, or just knowing they are alive and well. I stay pretty updated with Ella still being there. I can't imagine how different it would be if she was not around. I wouldn't know anything. The kids tell me stuff sometimes, but normally I have to ask them about subjects that Ella gives me the scoop about.

Like today, I talked with my Assam-hero son, Robert, also the pretty boy jock of my boys. He was telling me his aspirations to be a doctor and was weighing his options. To do or not to do. He knows he would be behind but I tried to assure him that if he really wanted to help ppl in that way, then he would have to be committed and just do it. Praying about it was of course my first advice concerning it all. He mentioned that if he decided to take on the challenge, he would have to live in Pune with his friend and work and go to school out there. The schooling in that part of India is better than in Kolkata or Meghalaya. Even though I was excited about the possibilities, i was reminded of another sad truth that continues to hit me again and again in the face: when i return to India, things will not be the way they used to be.

Things have been changing since the day I left because change doesn't wait to happen while you're away. It keep happening. Many of the teachers have left and more will be leaving soon. many teachers have arrived and more will come soon. Many of my students (kids) have gone to new schools, gone home, plan on going to other schools, and so on. other students, ones who aren't my kids, have showed up and changed the structure of Springs of Love School. when i step back on that beautiful red, muddy soil, the sun will be shining differently, the rain falling in a different direction, and the air will have a foreign smell, because things will not be as they once were. 

i will be elated to see my kids. don't you worry about that. however, i won't see them all at the same time. i will probably spend more time traveling to see this kid or that one or this staff or that staff than actually settling down and enjoying it all. it will be 30 days of memory-making and i plan to make years of memories in the days given. 

even though i discuss with Ella how much i wish things were back in the olden days with all 27 kids and funs times, she always prepares me with the cold hard facts that it won't be that way. "why do my kids have to grow up and graduate?" "why do they have to go onward to work and university and marriage and moving away and all the other things that life throws at you?" "why can't we all just stay in one place and repeat the same year over and over again, a vortex of time that can't be added to or taken away from?" i don't want them to grow up and leave me, even though i have already left them. i don't want to return as the missing piece to our beautiful puzzle picture, just to realize that I'm not the only piece missing.

and then Ella hit me with the deep quote from her mother, who we just call, Marie. (refer to the cat poster worthy deep quote above)

how right she is, i realize. its a sad situation but one i must accept. even though i would love to return and it be like feb-nov 2015, deep down, i know its better for that not to be the case. my kids need to move on. they need to grow. they need to fall down. they need to get back up. they need to make mistakes. they need to realize those mistakes and apologize. they need to forgive. they need to hurt. they need to have joy. they need to smile, to cry, to laugh, to sing, to dance, to live. they need to live without me. not that i can no longer be a part of their lives, but that they can do what i am doing now: living on my own trying to do this adult thing and living for Jesus the best way i know how. moreover, praying that i can do something with this little old life that has been given to me. i know my parents would hate to have me still living in the house, not making choices, and making mistakes, and taking risks, and risking my comfort, and stepping out in faith and the like. they don't like to have me or my other brothers out of the house and doing our own things; but i do know they take comfort and pride knowing that we are living. that we are going. that we are moving on, growing, falling down, getting back up, apologizing, hurting and having joy, smiling, laughing, crying, and cutting out our own path in this life. I know they pray that God's light will be what is leading me and that i will keep my eyes on him no matter what. because honestly, this is not our final home as we know. but sometimes i wonder if we believe it. 

this really isn't our final home. its full of goodbyes, and hurricanes, and death, and hunger, and crazy elections, and proud people, and pointless activities, and lacking what God truly wanted us to have: communion with Him. And since He can't go on too much longer without having us near Him, He's preparing to come back. which is more surreal than the thought that i have been back in america for 10 months. 

and considering that my trip back to india will also be short-lived, i want even more for Jesus to come back so we can all stop crying and falling down and being apart, and be smiling, and laughing, and getting up and being together forever. but in order to do that, we all have to walk our own paths, go our own ways. each one will be specifically unique and beautiful. however, for those who make it, we will see on the end that we were all just one small thread on the same rope bound together by Jesus who pulled us along the way. and that's kinda cool to think about. 

so i am learning to let go but hold on to the assurance that my Jesus will make it all right again. he will bring us back together again for longer than 30 days and we won't have to go through the turmoil of being apart. he will wipe tears, and cast our fears forever, he will tear down walls and put up ones that keep evil out. he will have us all in one place and that place will have him at the center. and what a day, glorious day that will be.

and so the countdown begins again. 6 months until i go back. ____ months until the great Comeback where we'll all be making memories and smiling and being together forever and all that jazz.

even so come, Lord.

even so…

Praise be.

Trying To Smile

"Don't cry because it's over. Smile because it happened." -- Jeffrey Harmon Brownlow

I stay up to date with my friend Heather Bholender and her husband Jeremy Sterndale through her frequent blog. She's very faithful in updating it and I decided I should get back to mine and be faithful.

I haven't blogged in a while because it's hard. Being back in America is hard. When I blog about being back in America, I just remember blogging in India and all the joys I experienced on a daily basis. Yes I have experienced the joys of seeing old faces, old friends, eating old foods and doing old things. They do provide some happiness. I'm trying to hold on to it and remind myself that this is just where I'm going to be for awhile.

However I get the most joy from spontaneously calling my kids. I truly praise the Lord for Skype credit. It's the only way I get to regularly communicate with them. I try to call my boys especially as least twice a week and see how they are. I don't like talking on the phone with them too much because I can tell it's awkward for them. Even though I would rather hear them talk, I end up filling up all the awkward silences with all of my talking and questions and answers. But when I hear them laugh or hear them even say something it makes my heart the most happy.

I also get the most joy when I go to the store to buy them things to send them in the mail. There is nothing more reckless for me right now than shopping for my kids. I'm kinda that father who goes to the store and buys all the things that I feel that my kids would like. I actually mailed off all of the things just yesterday.

Besides calling my kids and buying them things, I'm not doing a whole lot. I'm currently in Chattanooga with some friends just passing the time away and waiting for my job to start in Florida. With all this free time upon me, I think about my kids a lot. When I dwell on what I had with them and the times that I miss the most, it makes me sad.

Very sad actually.

Because my heart's desire is to be with them. To travel to their villages and meet their families. To play uno with the boys and hear their crazy jokes and stories. To laugh with the girls and go for roaming. To see Jesus in them on a daily basis. To love and be loved by 27 Incredible children.

But then that sadness reminds me of how thankful I must be. I must be thankful and happy because I got that opportunity. It was and is mine. Such privilege I was given to be all part of the greater picture in God's kingdom. True, it's absolutely heart breaking some days when I wake up and I'm not in my mosquito net. Those are the rough days, when I call my children, talk to them for hours, get off the phone and remember that I am days of journeying away from them.

But then there are the good days. The days where I look at my pictures and think, "wow! Bless. Bless it all for such a time as this."

It happened. It really happened

And that's beautiful. And worth it. And the reason why I'm trying to smile. I mean I have at least 27 reasons to do so. Plus it is a lot harder to frown anyway.

In the sad, although it may be hard, I'll try to press forward with that smile, because in the end, it truly. Did. Happen.

Lots of bless!

An Advanced Apology

"The offended should be more understanding of the offender's situation and less quick to know everything about the offender. However, this does not give an excuse to the offender to do whatever he/she wants"

As I prepare to step back onto American soil after 9 months in a foreign land with foreign people that I now call home and family, I want to prepare you and apologize.

I'm sorry for my emotional up and down state that will probably occur during certain hours of the day, especially at night when I should be the responsible father and put my boys to bed and play them their bed time story.

I'm sorry if I must remove myself from certain situations or cry or become sad all of a sudden during a conversation or an activity. I have probably been reminded of my kids in some way and will miss them so greatly.

I'm sorry if I distance myself from you for any period of time. I probably just don't want to be around people, want to be alone or may be annoyed with whatever is being done. It's probably not you. Or it could be you.

I'm sorry if you don't understand my English when I use certain phrases like "that one only", "then", "come one time", "don't tell", "simply telling" "simple", "this is life", "any command?" "Ahhss!", "Ayohhh!", "listen no", "Chee! Keep quiet no!" "yes ra", "what is what?", "do I look pretty?", "How does my hair look?", "huh! Hi!" (All while flexing my muscles), "...or what?" I also may seem a little more nosy when I ask "what you're doing", "where you're going" or "did you eat rice?" Just our cool India lingo.

I'm sorry if I'm always wondering why people aren't staring at me. It's not that I've gotten vain since I left. However, since there are no tall African American males who could pass for Nigerians, I was always a sight where ever I was.

I'm sorry if I come to you house and begin eating food with my hands. It's actually easier, more clean because you don't have to wash spoons or forks, makes your food taste better, and it's better for enjoying. I'll try and Be civil for the sake of everyone else.

I'm also sorry if I come to your house and I ask for a bucket and/or a pail. I've been taking bath from a bucket for the past nine months and it's one of the happiest times of my life. I don't expect to give it up soon. So If you hear splashes of water in the bathroom, don't worry. I'm saving water.

I apologize for being even more cheap than when I left and not needing a whole lot of stuff. We didn't have electricity most times, water was outside, my bed was simple and me and my kids were poor. Didn't have the most extravagant food and did without a lot of stuff. I just didn't have it and that was ok.

I'm sorry if I'm always ALWAYS talking about my kids for the rest of my life. Them and my Jesus were everything to me and I could talk to you about it for awhile. If you really don't want to know, then please don't ask because I won't be able to give a short answer and will refrain from telling you other things about my time if I sense you actually don't care that much. Don't worry. It's normal.

I'm sorry if all I want to eat is rice and curry. It's life. As well, sorry that everything I make will now be hot because life is just better that way.

Sorry if I'm always cold during this winter because I don't think it ever dropped below 60 something while I was in Meghalaya, and that was freezing. I'll be wearing jackets and sweaters and coats and hats everywhere. Don't tell.

Sorry if I get mad when you tell me "welcome home." This is currently not the happiest time for me and this is currently not my home, but a foreign place. I may often refer to India as home and america as the foreign place I now live.

I'm sorry if I prefer to sleep on the ground than a bed. In India we didn't have very cushy tempur pedics. We only had blankets and thin mattresses on plywood. However that really helped out my back for the first time in years. So it serves two purposes. It helps my back and I feel closer to home.

Sorry for wearing a lungi everywhere. It's like a man skirt. It's the best thing ever. Sometimes I'll wear a bedsheet in its place

I'm sorry if you don't understand when I'm saying yes or no. It's kinda backwards. I make noises with my mouth and head nods or something something with my hands. I'm probably always listening but you just can't catch my body language and noises.

I'm sorry if when I start driving initially, I go to the wrong side of the road. Everything is backwards there. Just don't let me drive.

I'm sorry if I get nervous about everything. Right now as I type this, I'm nervous to see everyone. I don't know why. It's just a lot to handle at one time: the white ppl, the black ppl, the right side of the road driving, all the bazaars, the nice streets, all the iPhone's and tablets, all the ppl not wearing clothes, not seeing my kids anywhere. That's really hard. All the English. All the stuff... It's a different world out here. I'm trying to get used to this foreign country.

In many different things, you may not understand why things are going the way they are. Just ask me about it. Just seriously want to know how you can help me. If that's what you would like, you can help me make this transition a lot easier.

I don't make an excuse if I hurt you, because that's not ok either but you may be a little more understanding when you read this. So thank you for what you do.

And again, I apologize.

I don't know if Alabanza is the word to describe how I feel now...

1, 2, 3

"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

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

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