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if any one person on this earth is responsible for pulling me out of my “dark” years and encouraging me to get back into my faith, it was kristi. you’ll read a little bit about her in mad church disease. she was the first person that ever held me accountable to anything in my life. she was my coffee date. my late-night movie friend. she was the maid of honor in my wedding.

then life took her to wichita, ks and me to dallas and then finally we are here in nashville and she is in south africa with her husband doing anything. anything at all. whatever is needed.

she wrote this on her blog today and it was too powerful to not share.

i have no action steps to give you. no thought-provoking questions. just read kristi’s words…and tell me what your heart tells you.

I have always been sensitive. Always. I cry at simple commercials, I laugh easily, I am more likely to embrace rather then give a handshake. That’s just me. But I am never really ready for the shock of seeing somebody dying…every time I walk into a room when it’s happening, I never really get over it even though I have been practicing now for 2 years.

Nosakhe, one of our Community Care Workers told me she got a new “patient” this week and wanted me to meet her. She needed my help to assess the situation. She said she was very sick and suffering. She was right across the street. So we walked over and I was drawn to this woman. She was probably 35 or 40 years old with a few stray gray hairs mixed into her head of black. She was facing the wall as we entered the room and didn’t stir as we made our way in. I became immediately aware of the stench of her urine and body odor, even though I understood immediately she was the only one to be left alone in this huge room for quite sometime with two beds. I left the door wide open and forced open the window beyond the limits till it creaked. She stirred. She was incapable of speaking her aunt/mom/sister told me. So I got close to her ear and told her my name and that we were there to love her.

It must have been 100 degrees in there and she was naked but covered in 4 blankets that reeked of waste. I put my gloves on and started removing the layers. She was sweating and rolled her eyes towards me. I started praying in my head and removed all offensive jewelry so not to scratch her sensitive skin. My watch, rings…anything that could be abrasive on her sweet body. I knew I would be here for hours. The people in the house started watching and I asked for a bucket and all of the supplies. She was gritty and neglected. I asked a hundred questions. After I stripped the bedding I instructed that they needed to be washed and dried at least every week, I started showing them how to bathe her. I never stopped talking to the woman. My eyes never left hers. I told her how beautiful she was and that we both were going to get through this crazy.

I showed them how to clean her raw bed sores and how to dress her wounds. How long has she been in this condition? I then changed her adult diaper and for the first time in my life didn’t really know what I was made of. I walked the people in the room as well as myself through the process…as long as I kept talking I figured I wouldn’t pass out from the smell or from what I was seeing. Her whole back side as well as her delicates were covered in sores and swollen. How long has she been left to rot? I brought with me baby wipes and prayed that they were sensitive enough. She was full of puss and heartache. She was so brave. I still was talking to her and tried my hardest to keep my eyes on hers and not only on the task. I kept speaking to the other woman as they were the ones to clean her from this day forward…I was merely training.

So I tried to turn her and noticed one more sore and I could then see into her body and the tissue within. My stomach turned and I prayed once more. How long Lord? Please heal this woman. I told the ladies watching me that it was essential to clean this wound. I could here the flies in my ears. I finished and then put the new diaper on. She weighed so little, we could have been using one designed for a child. The only reason I struggled was because she was tall, not because of weight…I assumed she weighed 60 at best. I changed gloves and gave further instruction to the woman watching my every move. I then used aloe to soothe her skin and spoke tender words to love and unlock her joints. I never broke eye contact. She started following me with her head and I was so gentle.

In my former life before mission work, I was a licensed massage therapist…but this was beyond all of my training there (draping, keeping the clients modesty…) but since she was already so exposed and nude, I just rubbed her down. I assumed she wasn’t being touched or cared for and by her response, I am fairly certain I was correct. Her ribs and naked breast all sucked to her body because her skin clinged tightly to her. She was so dehydrated. I was so careful and slow and worked my way, head to toe with the aloe…working between all the sores and ribs and places I thought she was hurting. She never dropped my gaze. I then put chap stick on her and she opened her eyes wide and I put more on.

Relief.

I stared telling the woman how we had to be careful as to not to overwhelm her and not to feed her too quickly as to damage her delicate stomach. I started with the water. She clearly couldn’t sit up…so I spoon fed her water. She was so thirsty. We stopped to let it settle and then I gave her more. We then gave her some watered down porridge and I told them that her body would most likely reject the nutrition and that we had to be super careful to feed her a little at a time at first so her body could adjust. I also instructed them to get her out of that room. She needs air, she needs people, she needs to live. We talked about being around people and how important it was to read or spend time with her. I was smitten by this woman because she is somebodies daughter, mom, sister, aunt and I loved her immediately.