Arwen's Journey

In the event that you have not yet heard, our oldest daughter, Arwen, has been diagnosed with stage four neuroblastoma. She has since undergone her first cycle of chemotherapy at Mott Children's in Ann Arbor, Michigan, after which we were discharged from the hospital. Her treatment plan over the next eighteen months includes four more cycles of chemotherapy, surgery, high dose chemotherapy with stem cell transplants, radiation, and immunotherapy. The prognosis is fifty or sixty percent chance of survival. Those are, of course, human terms, and we serve a God who is not limited by statistics.

Arwen has had some good days and some bad days. She tolerated the chemotherapy with varying levels of discomfort and pain. We were heartbroken at times to watch Arwen suffer, but our prayer with her has been one of thanks to God for an opportunity to worship Him in the midst of trials. Arwen's spirit has been holding up quite well - she has been very brave and a good witness of Christ in her.

We have been blessed and humbled by the outpouring of support for our family. So many of you have been praying for us and giving to us, and we are so very thankful for you. Please accept our apologies if we haven't thanked you personally or responded to your inquiries. Everything has been such a whirlwind. Our immediate need for a vehicle has been met. Also, we have arrangements with several families so that a place to stay when we are in Ann Arbor for treatment will not be an issue. We are, however, still looking for permanent housing near family in Mt Pleasant, Michigan. We are blessed to have a place to stay this month which is not far from family.
To each of you who have been our friends and support, thank you. The body of Christ is truly a loving family.

Our ministry plans have been detoured by this whole affair. For those of you who have been faithfully supporting us through Samaritan's Purse, you have some options. Samaritan's Purse will continue to hold our account with them indefinitely. What this means is that all the finances that have been donated to us or that will be donated to us through them will be available to us whenever we are able to return to our missions work. If you wish, you may continue to give to us through Samaritan's Purse and any donations will eventually be used for our ministry but will not be available to us now. If you prefer to support us during our time here in the US, you can give through a GoFundMe account that has been set up for us here: or you may email us at for an address to which you may send any donations. We do plan to apply to serve in Togo again with ABWE, but are not sure of any timelines due to Arwen's need for treatment. Anything given through Samaritan's Purse in the meantime would eventually be transferred over to our new mission.

Our hearts have sometimes been heavy through these last weeks: emotions changing on a minute by minute basis. We are learning again to give over to God all that is already His. The hospital in Togo is struggling, and we would not have chosen to leave at a time like this, but the hospital is God's. It belongs to Him and we place it in His hands. We feel that we've abandoned our friends, but they too belong to God. They are not ours to save. We hand them over to the Lord. Our daughter has been entrusted to our care, but she is not ours. We place Arwen into His capable hands. He is the God who heals! He also has the right to take back what He has given. Arwen has been entrusted to us for these ten years, and those years have been a blessing and a privilege. We learn from Christ's example in prayer. In Luke 22, Jesus asks the Father to take away the cup of suffering if that is in the Father's will. We are free to ask for what we want! We are asking for Arwen's healing. We believe she will be healed. Yet, Jesus also prays that his own will would not be done if it is not also the Father's will. "Not my will, but yours be done." Can I trust God so much as to ask Him to not carry out my will? The other day Arwen herself said this: "I'm going to be healed either way. Healed here or healed in heaven. I hope I can be healed here."

In the middle of Lamentations, a book of the Bible filled with sorrow and anguish, the author pauses to look toward the Lord rather than on his misery and says this:

But this I call to mind,
    and therefore I have hope:
The steadfast love of the Lord never ceases;
    his mercies never come to an end;
they are new every morning;
    great is your faithfulness.
                              -Lamentations 3:21-23

Our prayer is that through all of these difficulties, the Almighty would work in our hearts so that we can continue to look toward Him rather than our trials. We place our hope on the solid rock of our salvation and wish not to be tempted to hope on any lesser thing. We make our prayer one of thanksgiving to the Lord and we pray that His mighty power would be made evident in our lives and circumstances.

Here are some ways you can be praying:
For trusting hearts of thanksgiving
That the Mallay family would be a witness of Christ's own work
Healing for Arwen - immediate or with treatments
For the family's physical and spiritual health
That treatments would kill the cancer and not harm Arwen
That Arwen might keep her hair
No pain, nausea, or itching
That God would continue to provide
For clarity and provision in housing near family
For the hospital in Togo

We do hope to speak at our church in Hillsdale later this month. We'll keep our facebook page updated with any definite plans:

Missionary Doctor - A Christmas Miracle

This is a mission hospital. That means different things to different people, but I imagine that I'm not the only one who knows that tends to mean that we are short-staffed. Christmas is no different in that regard…except of course that we are more short-staffed than usual. Despite taking more call days, I was blessed to not be on call either Christmas Eve or Christmas Day this year. You should understand, though, that being one of a handful of people helping to manage the hospital tends to mean getting called anyway.

Christmas Eve was wonderful. I didn't work. Nobody called. I spent the entire day sitting with my family and playing games with my children. We let them open some gifts that evening, and we were even able to video chat with some family back home. What a lovely gift that day was!

Africa feels very different from home. Many of us certainly don't miss the snow, but during the Christmas season, it can be difficult to feel very festive. To give our families here a bit of that feeling, we'd made an effort to celebrate the holidays this year with several social events culminating in a community Christmas brunch on Christmas Day. So, with many Christmas movies, Christmas cookies, Christmas carols, and even Christmas eggnog, Christmas day finally came, and my family and I were just about ready to leave for Christmas brunch when the phone rang.

The doctor who had been working through the night had just finished his work in the maternity ward and was ready to go home and then take his family to the Christmas brunch. Just as he was leaving, a pregnant woman came into the hospital bleeding…and she was bleeding a lot. We have no radiologist and no ultrasound technician, so he called me to come help try to figure out what the problem was. There we were, two family doctors and an ultrasound machine. Was the baby outside the uterus? Had the uterus torn? No, we determined that the placenta was separating from the wall of the uterus. Placental abruption is dangerous for both the baby and the mother. The baby was at risk of losing her source of oxygen and the mother was at risk of bleeding to death.

We called the surgeon to ask that he come right away to perform a C-section. The baby's heart rate was decreasing. The mother continued to bleed and screamed in pain. We have no anesthesiologist and only one nurse anesthetist who does not currently work nights, weekends, or holidays. This time the anesthesia was up to me, a family doctor. The other family doctor who had called me would often help the surgeon with the C-section, but he knew the baby was going to need extra help, so he waited to "catch" the baby.

Praise God! The spinal medication went in quickly and easily. The surgical site was prepared. The surgeon was ready to go. The other family doctor and an assistant were ready to receive the baby. Just as they started to make the incision, I leaned over the mother and asked her, "Connaissez-vous Jésus?" Do you know Jesus? She said that she did know Jesus as Savior. I said to her, "Il est là avec nous maintenant." He is here with us now. She nodded in understanding.

I was praying for a Christmas miracle. The baby was out quickly. The mother's bleeding was improving, but I could tell there was a problem. The baby was not breathing. There was no heartbeat. They had started chest compressions and placed a tube in the baby's airway. They asked me for some epinephrine to give to the baby in hopes of starting the heart up again. Time passed.
The baby did not live.

The mother was awake throughout the procedure. They asked if she had been told about the baby. "Not yet," I said, "better to wait until after her operation is finished." After they took the baby quietly from the room, I sat at the mother's head and watched the tracing of her heartbeat. How was I to tell her this awful news? When she was in the recovery area, I knelt next to her bed said in childlike French, "Mother, do you understand that your baby has died? I am so sorry." Her blank expression seemed to last far longer than the actual seconds that passed, and I thought that perhaps she had known or suspected, but she quickly melted into the gut-wrenching wailing of a mother who has lost her child.

Not for the first time, I left the hospital in tears. I was supposed to spend the rest of the morning celebrating Christmas with my family and friends, but a death, especially that of a child, always darkens a day's mood. The day couldn't be viewed the same way. Fellowship and laughter couldn't feel rich. Peace would give way to restlessness and doubts. How could I celebrate Christmas? I tried to look for good. The mother was alive. She would be okay. She would return to her family. Truly, there were so many blessings. So much to be thankful for. Yet, my joy was gone.

Christmas should be joyful…but why is Christmas joyful? Isn't death enough to ruin Christmas? I realized something, not for the first time, and I am sure not for the last. I remembered that Christmas and Easter are inseparable. What does that mean? There have always been birth and death. Every person in every culture in all parts of the world understands birth and death. The baby in this story was born and died this Christmas. We prefer that the death come far later than that, but we all know that it's coming; we know that it will sting. Is that sting enough to ruin Christmas? It would have been - but there is something more than birth and death. There is resurrection! There is hope! This is the very reason we celebrate Christmas. Easter is coming. “Oh death, where is your sting?”

It is because of the birth, death, and resurrection of the perfect God-man, Jesus Christ, that we can have a hope that is more than a passing fancy. We can be sure of our hope. This is the Christmas miracle, that Christ came to die so that we could have life. Death cannot ruin Christmas: Christmas ruined death.

Through him we have also obtained access by faith into this grace in which we stand, and we rejoice in hope of the glory of God. -Romans 5:2

Read the context of that verse.

Be encouraged in the hope that we have in Christ Jesus. If you want a New Year’s resolution, it could always be to push in further and know Jesus more. This is a battle. I pray each of you looks for the strength to fight this battle in none other than Christ.

Merry (7th day of) Christmas and Happy New Year. All glory be to Christ the king!

Mobile Clinic

A few days ago we saw close to 200 adults at a blood pressure screening clinic in a remote Togolese village...

Each person was presented with the gospel of Jesus Christ and was connected with a local pastor.

Please pray with us for the salvation of the people of Kpégo.

Pray also for the mobile clinic ministry as we think about how to use it more effectively, and that God would be glorified through this work.

If you are interested in supporting us in our ministry in Togo, please click below for instructions:

Summer Update (by Becca)

Hello, friends and family!

It has been 3 months since our last blog update, and we've been busy. Our biggest news is the arrival of our 5th child, baby Irene Verena. She was born on July 31st, which makes her already 2 months old! It's amazing how time flies. We praise God for a smooth, safe delivery, and that she is a very healthy and happy baby. The whole family adores her.

My mom came out to stay with us for 2 weeks to be with me for the birth and to help out with the new baby. We had a very nice visit, but it was too short! It was very fun for the kids to see their grandma again, and she brought many fun gifts and greetings from family in the U.S. We are so thankful that she was able to come see us here in Togo.

Life here at the hospital and on the missionary compound was busy as we hosted a few large short-term mission trip teams and had an Independence Day celebration and mission team meetings. We also welcomed some new and returning missionaries to the field, and had to say good-bye to several fellow missionaries who were leaving Togo (either because their terms were up or because God was calling them elsewhere). It has been good to make so many new friends and get to know our team-mates better. It has also been hard to say good-bye to so many friends. We are thankful for the relationships God has given us and the time we get to spend with these friends, whether long or short.

A new teacher is here and going to start doing school work with the kids next week. Up until now, we've been doing full-time home-schooling. We will still be home-schooling for some subjects, but the teacher will be taking part of the load. The kids are very excited to get started in "school" at the missionary kid school-house.

In the middle of September, we went to Spain for a spiritual retreat with Samaritan's Purse, our sending organization. It was very nice to see some of our old friends from orientation and missionary training that had gone to other countries in West Africa. It was also fun to get away for a few days and enjoy the beautiful Costa del Sol in southern Spain. Unfortunately, our kids were sick with a stomach virus for much of the time we were there, so we didn't get to do as much sight-seeing as we would have liked, but we got to enjoy the beach and the hotel pool a little, and it was nice to talk with the team from the Samaritan's Purse home office.

As we look back on the last 3 months, we can see that we definitely have a lot to be thankful for, and we know that you all were praying for us, and we are so grateful for you! As we look forward to the next few months, we would appreciate prayer for the following:

  • There have been many protests and a lot of political unrest in Togo recently. We do not feel that we specifically are affected much by this, except that the government has shut down the internet repeatedly in order to keep the opposing faction from communicating with each other, so our communication also gets disrupted. We also need to be careful about planning shopping trips and travel around times when there are protests, as those can turn violent and we don't want to be caught in the middle of them. Please pray for a peaceful resolution to the difficulties in this country and for safety and wisdom for those working and living here.
  • Seth has been wearing many hats at the hospital lately: he's been personally involved in pediatrics, anesthesia, ultrasound, and administration of the medical clinic and mobile clinic. He's feeling pulled in a lot of directions, and obviously very busy. Please pray for peace and wisdom for him as he tries to settle into his role(s) here, and pray, too, for more workers to come and fill the many needs at the hospital and in the community.
  • Please pray that school will go well for the kids, and that as that frees up some of my time, God will open the doors for me to pursue new ministries outside the home, hopefully befriending and working with more Togolese families.

Thank you again for your prayers and support. We praise God for the work he is doing here in Togo, and we are so thankful to you all for helping us be a part of it.

Missionary Doctor: Yay! I’m a llama again…

Have you seen the Disney feature The Emperor’s New Groove? It’s a favorite in our family - mostly for the humor, but there are often truths to be identified even in cartoons. The story is about a selfish Emperor who must learn the lesson of considering people other than himself. Early in the film he is accidently turned into a llama by a careless villain, and most of the storyline involves him trying to find a way to become human again. Near the end of the movie he finds the potion for just that, but it’s unlabeled among other potions for becoming all sorts of animals. So, while running around and trying to escape the villain, he tries one potion after another. He becomes a turtle, a parrot, and a whale before turning back into a llama. Here he exclaims, “Yay! I’m a llama again! …wait….”

What does that have to do with life? Missions? Togo? Well, most of you know that we spent a year at a language school in France before moving to Togo. It was the opportunity of a lifetime, but it was also very difficult. Europe was far more foreign to us than we anticipated and everything that had never seemed like a big deal was suddenly trying (like buying food). Now we’ve been in Togo for half a year and have encountered similar challenges in a whole new context. God has certainly given us grace throughout all of this and continues to remake us in His image. Yet, the strangest thing has been occurring. We recently were in the country’s capital city for groceries when we drove past a store that we recognized. Amid a foreign people who speak foreign tongues in a foreign culture in a foreign country on a foreign continent, we saw a store - a brand - that we knew. We were suddenly overcome with the warmth of home. For a moment, we felt the comfort and safety of familiarity. It was then that we realized that the store was not an American brand; it was French. It was a grocery store that does not exist in the USA. How strange a realization that was! My wife simply said, “Yay! I’m a llama again.” We could only laugh at how appropriate the reference was.

We’ve had several more instances of the same phenomenon and will now grin and repeat the quote. It has, however, made me question my concept of home. We are, like many others, a family displaced in the world, and we continue to think of a small portion of this earth as our home. Specifically, we think of home as where our families remain, though even much of our family is displaced. I realize anew that this world is not our home. We do not yet live in perfect unity with God. His plan has not yet completely come to full fruition. We have work to do. In Matthew 8 a scribe expresses interest in following Jesus, and Jesus responds, “Foxes have holes, and birds of the air have nests, but the Son of Man has nowhere to lay his head.” Do I let myself get too settled? Too comfortable? Again, in the same passage, a man says that he will follow Jesus after burying his father - at some non-descript time in the future after settling his affairs. Jesus replies, “Follow me, and leave the dead to bury their own dead.” Do I have to have everything in order before I respond in obedience to His call on my life? Does my home and family come first? Later in chapter 10 Jesus says that “Whoever loves father or mother more than me is not worthy of me, and whoever loves son or daughter more than me is not worthy of me. And whoever does not take his cross and follow me is not worthy of me. Whoever finds his life will lose it, and whoever loses his life for my sake will find it.”

These words are convicting. I’m not supporting neglect of family or becoming a workaholic, yet I recognize that I cannot use the comfort of home or my love for my family as a reason not to obey in every area of my life. I hope that resonates with you too. Perhaps you are exactly where God wants you in life or geographically, but we must consider again and again whether there are things or people holding us back from obedience. At the end of Matthew 9 Jesus said to the disciples, “The harvest is plentiful, but the laborers are few; therefore pray earnestly to the Lord of the harvest to send out laborers into his harvest.” Are you a laborer? Am I a laborer? I recently told my wife that my whole life dedicated to missions would be worth it if only one soul were saved, even if that soul was my own. I truly wish to gain my life, my home – so I think I must first give it up for the sake of Christ Jesus. Continue to pray for us as we persist in looking for the good works “which God prepared beforehand, that we should walk in them” and that people “may see [those] good works and give glory to [our] Father in heaven.” Here are some specific ways you can be in prayer for us:

Life in Togo has been somewhat hectic. The hospital is undergoing a lot of change - several long-term doctors are in the process of leaving this month and next as they continue to seek God’s will for them. Inherent in that is having to say goodbye to friends and support that we’ve come to rely on personally. We also lost all three of our nurse anesthetists and so for our surgeons to do surgery, I and another family doctor have been doing basic anesthesia. I’ll soon be taking on call for the maternity ward as well as medical call. I’ve also been learning basic ultrasound skills as one of the two physicians taking care of that will be leaving. For a time, it appears that the hospital will be covered by one surgeon, one pediatrician, and myself.
Rebecca is 35 weeks pregnant and feeling ready to have a baby rather than a belly. We are blessed to have her mother coming out to help and encourage us around the time the baby is due. We are planning on hosting a couple of cousins from Rebecca’s side of the family over the next few weeks and are looking forward to fellowship with them. Several medical and PA students are scheduled to be at the hospital over the next few months and will need direction and teaching.
Our children have been battling simple illnesses on and off for a few weeks and homeschooling has slowed down for them as that is partly dependent on undependable internet. We have used some of your funding for us to purchase the roof of a small church plant several hours drive from us and are praying for that church to be fruitful (this is the same church Rebecca mentioned in our previous blog post). The Ghanaian Muslim boy who we hosted several weeks ago has kept in contact with us and professes acceptance of Christ and is sharing the gospel with his family and friends.

We are always encouraged by your notes and letters. Thank you for praying.

The Waiting Season (by Becca)

"For I consider that the sufferings of this present time are not worth comparing with the glory that is to be revealed to us. For the creation waits with eager longing for the revealing of the sons of God... For in this hope we were saved. Now hope that is seen is not hope. For who hopes for what he sees? But if we hope for what we do not see, we wait for it with patience." (Romans 8:18-19, 24-25 ESV)

Our kids perform a song they've been practicing with the other missionary children of the area.

In Michigan, March was always one of the hardest months for me. It was usually cold, cloudy, and dreary, and we were generally all sick with the winter viruses that we had somehow managed to avoid until right when winter was finally supposed to be over. We were waiting eagerly, impatiently; longing for sunshine and warmth and the better health and happiness that came with it. Sometimes, we would get a brief glimpse of spring, only to have it snatched away by another snow or ice storm. We waited for the sun to return and life to begin again, but that usually didn't happen until April (if then), despite the calendar's bright assurances that spring was actually already here.

Caspian celebrated his 8th birthday this March.

Rather surprisingly, March feels similar in Togo, but for a completely different reason. March is a month of waiting here, too: waiting for RAIN. In Togo, March is generally the hottest month of the year, and it comes at the end of the long, dry season that begins in November. Everyone feels tired and hot and dusty. For the Togolese, the feeling of waiting is probably even more intense, since their very livelihood as subsistence farmers depends on the rains coming on time. Sometimes the clouds will build up, the feeling of pressure in the air will grow, and we'll even hear thunder in the distance, but the rain doesn't come. There is no relief from the oppressive heat.

Gwynevere and a friend sit outside on a hot, dry day.

Just as the earth itself seems to cry out for the sun to shine again in Michigan and bring the green of spring, the earth itself seems to cry out here in Togo for the rains to come again, to bring cooler temperatures and fresh breezes and the green of the growing season.

Walking home from church on a hot, dry day.

I don't think it's coincidence that in nature we have this season of waiting, of breathless anticipation, of desperation for life to begin. It is a reflection of what all creation is waiting for... "we wait for it with patience."

Elora loves holding our neighbors' baby monkey.

What does waiting with patience mean? I tell my children it means waiting without complaining, and that's part of it. But I think a truly patient person sees waiting as an opportunity rather than a burden; they think about how they can use the waiting time to prepare for what lies ahead. Recently, Seth and I went to visit a church up the mountain from us that had just been built and was celebrating its inauguration. On the way, we discussed how dry and hot it was. I asked what the farmers were doing right now, with no water for their crops. Our friend who was riding with us started pointing out the fields we passed. They were cleared, furrowed, and in the process of being planted. "They're already planting," she said. "They are just waiting for the rains to come, but they want to be ready when they do." While we were still at the church, a huge storm hit. It has rained almost every day since. That was April 1st. March was over, and the rains had come. The farmers knew they were coming. They hoped for what they could not see, and waited for it with patience, preparing all the while.

Elora and Gwyn get soaked playing in one of our first big rains.

There are so many waiting and preparing seasons in life. Right now I am in a waiting season that many other women experience: I am 5 months pregnant and waiting for my baby to be born. I don't think I'm quite at the "March" stage of waiting yet, which means, for now I'm enjoying the pregnancy and feeling the baby moving inside me, and I'm not yet at the always-uncomfortable-isn't-this-over-yet-get-this-baby-out-of-me stage. But I know it's coming in the next couple of months. It always does. Eventually, waiting becomes uncomfortable and we want to be done. But it would be silly to wait all that time without buying a crib, or baby clothes, or diapers. The waiting season is also a time to get ready for what is coming.

Right now I'm not just waiting for my baby to be born, but also waiting for God to show me exactly what I should be doing here in Togo. Seth has his work at the hospital and clinic, and I am home-schooling the children, but I feel that there are more ways I can contribute to the community and the ministry in and around the hospital. Recently, I realized that while I am waiting, I should also be preparing. I feel like whatever I do will probably involve working with the local children, many of whom don't speak French. So, I have started taking Ewe lessons. Ewe is the tribal language spoken by a lot of the nationals in this area, and the children speak it at home with their parents, speaking French only in school. I don't know exactly what I will be doing yet, but I want to be prepared.

Noah is one of several Togolese children who visits us regularly.
He only speaks Ewe.

Last Saturday, my two older daughters and I had the wonderful opportunity to visit a remote village named Gbadi Bena where some Togolese believers are trying to start a new church. Some of the church leaders from our town had somehow acquired Operation Christmas Child shoe boxes to hand out to the children there. Yes, Christmas boxes in April-- talk about waiting! Gbadi Bena was not easy to get to, and one of the friends I went with mentioned that most people she talked to even here in Togo had never heard of it (Google maps hasn't, either, by the way). We drove for an hour on the main road going north from Adeta, where we live, and then we turned off onto a winding dirt road going up a mountain. "This is the road to Gbadi Bena!" one of the other passengers told us. "Oh good," we thought, "that wasn't too far." What we didn't realize was that we would be on the road to Gbadi Bena for two and a half hours as it wound back and forth up onto the plateau, getting progressively windier, narrower, and more full of pot-holes. Waiting patiently to get to our destination was hard, especially for my six-year-old daughter, Elora. But, while we were driving there, one of the Togolese pastors who had come with us, Pastor Jeremy, talked to us about his heart for the remote mountain villages. "We have churches all along the main roads," he said, "but still in the mountains there are people who have never heard the gospel. My own parents were some of those people. My father finally did hear about Jesus before he died, but my mother never did." How many people are still waiting? 

The road to Gbadi Bena and the car we rode in.

When we finally got to Gbadi Bena, we discovered that the people there are in a waiting season of their own. Right now they are meeting in a house, but they want to build a church building. They have cleared the land and dug the trenches for the foundation, but they don't yet have the resources to build a church. They showed us the area they cleared, and we prayed with them that God would provide. They also don't have a pastor yet. Some of the pastors in the other churches in the area would like to help, but it is really hard for them to get to that remote of a village on a regular basis. So, they are also waiting for a pastor, or for one of the nearby pastors to get better transportation.

The area cleared for the new church building...
except for the large stump in the middle!

After showing us where the church will someday be (they hope for what they do not see), they took us back to the house where several dozen children were waiting for their boxes, singing Bible songs and listening to some women teach them from the Bible.

The children had to wait a while longer, because we then had to figure out how to distribute the boxes, because there were more children than boxes. Eventually they decided to limit the distribution to those on a previously-made list and give the rest candy. It was hard to exclude any of the children, but they all waited patiently to receive their boxes, and those who didn't receive boxes didn't even complain, but watched the others open their boxes with interest. I felt like my own kids could learn a lot from them! For their own part, Arwen and Elora were glad when their waiting was finally rewarded and they got to hand out the boxes alongside Pastor Jeremy's son, Jean. Arwen remembers helping me shop for things to put in shoe boxes like these since she was very young. We never expected to get to see some make it to their destination. Just one more thing we were waiting for and preparing for without even realizing it! 

You are probably in a waiting season in some way in your life right now. Maybe you are waiting for the right job, the right spouse, or the right opportunity. You might be waiting to get accepted into college, or to graduate. You might even just be waiting to figure out what you are waiting for! My prayer for you is that God will give you patience and help you see the ways in which he is preparing you and teaching you in this time. Thank you for your prayers for us, as we learn to wait patiently for so many things.

"The Lord is good to those who wait for him, to the soul who seeks him. It is good that one should wait quietly for the salvation of the Lord." (Lamentations 3:25-26 ESV)

Missionary Doctor: Giving Thanks - Some Visuals From a Mission Hospital

Rejoice always, pray without ceasing, in everything give thanks; for this is the will of God in Christ Jesus for you. -1 Thessalonians 5:16-18

I was encouraged today to look through a collection of photos taken at Hôpital Baptiste Biblique here in Togo. These photos (courtesy of Judy Bowen) reminded me of many things for which I am thankful. I'd like to share a few of them with you.

I am thankful for this hospital compound! We almost always have electricity and we have clean water, a home for our family, and a community of missionaries who care for one another. There are plans to expand the hospital, but even what we already have is more than many other hospitals in various places around the world.

Here is a photo of our obstetrician, post-resident Dr Potter, along with a visiting obstetrician together in surgery. And next to that a photo of myself with one of our surgeons, Dr Kendall, in what looks like a typical "consultation" here. I am thankful for our surgeons and OB/Gyn specialists. They are such valuable members of our team. I am thankful for open communication and for an atmosphere of encouraging one another.

Similar to the visiting obstetrician above, we often have short-term personnel come here to aid us and to lift us up. Here is a surgeon who came and offered himself as a servant, and next to that a family doctor and medical student who likewise came alongside the doctors here to be a blessing in service. I am thankful for the short-term missionaries and their desire to serve. I'm also thankful for the wisdom and experience they bring with them (and the chocolate they bring with them...).

Here is a little one being weighed and so full of life. To the right is an image of a child born prematurely who did relatively well for close to a month, but then ended up dying. It was touching to see how the mother cared for him. I am thankful for life. How precious a life is, even when it doesn't seem to last long by our standards.

Dr Ebersole poses with a little boy who had recently undergone an esophagectomy after having eaten lye more than a year before. Fellow post-resident Dr Tebo is pictured with a patient who is too cool to be NPO (not allowed to eat for the time being). I am thankful for our pediatricians and the knowledge and experience that they bring to the table. I'm thankful for our success stories.

Here Dr Tebo and I are introducing a paraplegic woman to her new PET cart while her daughter and some friends look on. You can see in the second photo just how happy she is with her gift. I am thankful for the generosity of donors and for the compassion that I see people show toward others. It's truly a blessing.

Here is a photo of a chaplain sharing the gospel and then one of a nurse praying with a patient. I am so thankful for our chaplains, nurses, and aids. They so often help us with the language barriers we encounter. I am amazed at their patience toward us. I thank God for a country where we are free to share the gospel, a mission focused on prayer, and a hospital where we take the time for both. I am also thankful for our nursing program here that continues to provide the hospital with excellent nurses.

Here we see Dr Ward, another post-resident, being his true self. Getting to know him and learn from him has been a lot of fun. Next is our fearless administrator making me *feel* tall. I am so thankful for laughter and for friendships. I'm glad that we can still have fun and lift each other's spirits and remind each other the reason for our joy. I'm also thankful for our administration team and for their willingness to brave so many meetings to keep the hospital running.

In this photo, I've come down to everybody else's level so that our photographer could get a decent shot while the PA laughs at me. In the next, I'm asking a patient (in limited French) if her pain is any better. I'm thankful for our photographer. I am thankful for our PAs and the outstanding work that they do. I'm thankful for my limited French and the gratefulness of our patients.

There aren't any pictures to go along with this, but I'm thankful for my family and how well they have taken adjusting to life in Africa. Also, dear friends, I'm thankful for you and your prayers for us as we continue to work. May Jesus be lifted up.