GOD WAS IN HIS LAUGH : Ryan Albers
A breeze channeled through the sheet-covered doorframe, cutting a breath of relief into the afternoon heat as he stumbled unsteadily across the dirt floor to the foot of the bed where he was to be examined by the medical team assigned to his care. Few years earlier, his irregular heart beat led to the development of a blood clot that traveled to his brain — a stroke that not only imparted an unforgivable gait and limited the purposeful movement of his upper left extremity but which minimized his ability to audibly and clearly convey the thoughts now largely entombed in his mind. Beyond the mosquito nets drawn from the corrugated roof, the eyes of a younger man looked down from the frame affixed to the bare cinderblock wall. His suit carried the weight of a successful businessman, well-groomed with a handsome smile. As the frail, unkempt man before me struggled to express himself, his eyes welled with emotion, and so did mine with both images of a man so starkly contrasting the divergence of his outward appearance…
I am a 26-year-old, Caucasian, American male born into middle class privilege who has never faced true adversity. My life, my faith, and my education have been handed to me on a silver platter, and I have been guarded from the unpleasant, heartbreaking realities of this world from the day I was born. For that reason and for most of my life, I have had no frame of reference for and an utter lack of awareness of the injustices and destitution faced by billions of souls daily. However, upon growing old enough to understand glimpses of world news, a seed of knowledge inherently developed. I would say a prayer, I would make small donations here and there, and I would chalk that up to a pat on the back. In other words, I would acknowledge yet maintain the distance between my reality and theirs because if I knew the disparity firsthand, the discomfort would be unbearable.
Over the last several years, however, I have been blessed with opportunities to see life outside of my defined box. Stateside, high school service trips in the Appalachian Mountains and on a Native American reservation in South Dakota first opened my eyes to this form of service and the humble needs of fellow Americans. However, more recently by way of my health care profession, I have had opportunities to travel internationally to provide medical services in Honduras, Kenya, and Ecuador both for brief and relatively extended periods.
Most recently, I was fortunate enough to have been invited to join a medical team from the University of Kentucky traveling to Ecuador in partnership with an established healthcare clinic nestled in Santo Domingo — Centro de Salud Hombro a Hombro (Shoulder to Shoulder Health Center). In addition to providing primary care, Shoulder to Shoulder Global is working to bolster the community as a whole, including a focus on education, public health, access to safe water, and economic opportunities. During this past spring’s iteration, I joined 46 students, faculty, and health care professionals crossing country borders and international water to escape our comfort zones, immerse ourselves in an unfamiliar culture, and serve the needs of a community we had yet to love. We spent long hours setting up makeshift clinics each day within meek churches, schools, and remote villages to provide care for acute illnesses while facilitating referrals to Centro de Salud for chronic disease states requiring long-term follow-up. Lines stretched onward with lunch often passing without an opportunity for us to eat, ensuring everyone received appropriate attention and care. The conclusion of clinic was followed by a return to our primary camp for a brief supper before moving to redistribute supplies, make an account of remaining medications, and assess the day for possible improvements in the logistics of the care being provided. An hour or two of conversation, reflection, and bonding with our new companions adequately offered refreshment before falling asleep in anticipation of another day of our vacation spent wearied and humbled for the sake of another whom much of the world has forgotten.
It is difficult to describe the corresponding inward effect that is implicated by way of humbling oneself in the service of another separated by language, cultural values, and beliefs, but in the same breath I dare not make the claim that any form or grandiosity of service outweighs another. However, what I have discovered over and over again in my own experience is that some of life’s greatest lessons have come when feeling overwhelmed while in an unfamiliar setting and entirely out of the bounds of my comfort zone. When everything familiar has been stripped away and all of the usual stimuli and daily routines have not been there to provide a safe harbor, my senses have become heightened, ultimately granting yet another opportunity to learn about humanity, myself, and my responsible mediation between the two.
Over the course of my trips, I have seen poverty unknown in America that pictures and descriptions could not illustrate adequately and conditions likely to be deemed unlivable by our society’s standards. Cinderblocks carefully cemented to form homes without safe water nearby, let alone running water or electricity. Nearly 50 miles separating families from the nearest health care facility with nothing more than their feet to carry them. Inconsistent medical supplies and medications, the latter filled with uncertainty secondary to rampant counterfeiting and few resources available to verify authenticity. Yet through most of my encounters, I have found the family unit intact, relational solidarity, children joyfully enjoying nature and each other, a contentment in what they have rather than frustration in what they lack, and a gratitude so profound for what we have shared with them that they call us family rather than friends. What a wonderful contrast to what I have often known and experienced.
Since returning home, I have felt discomfort. The superfluous wants and careless applications of our abundant wealth have caused unease; the lack of human connection despite personal proximity has been striking; and the indifference for my neighbor down the street, in another part of our country, and across the globe has been saddening. In this manner, I am neither the same as when I left nor do I hope to return to my previous state. Rather, I pray that God uses these experiences to break my heart and move me for a purpose beyond what my own creativity could formulate through small gestures, grandiose altruism, and silent prayers. I earnestly hope the same for you.
…As the frail man before me struggled to express himself, his eyes welled with emotion, and so did mine with both images of a man so starkly contrasting the divergence of his outward appearance. The medical exam continued, and the first-year medical student accompanying us moved to perform a common neurologic exam that would help to identify the most probable region of the brain affected. As her instructions were translated from English to Spanish, her nerves led to a miscue. Rather than telling him her hand would be against his cheek, she indicated her cheek would be against his cheek. The moment the interpreter’s translation registered in his ears, his deflated, broken spirit overturned into a pure, joyous outburst of laughter that filled every inch of the 300-square-foot home and set the tone for the rest of the encounter until warm, smile-filled goodbyes were exchanged. All of a sudden, I found myself preferring the animated, living soul in front of me over the memorialized depiction of a former period of his life. What makes a man? What about him warrants dignity? His self-sufficiency had evaporated along with his eloquence. Yet God was in his laugh, and if that were true, God was all throughout him.
A note to the reader…
Please heed the following: there is a danger in blindly pursuing service missions, particularly in the international scope, and it is one that you may not anticipate. That danger is you. Passion for service is beautiful and essential; however, I pray it is accompanied by an equal passion for proper planning, discretion, and a goal that persists beyond the finite time period of your presence at the site of the service being performed. Although a great deal of good can be done in a week’s time or even over the course of a few weeks sprinkled throughout the year through provision of medical services, developing access to safe water, sharing the Gospel, and in many other capacities, all too often there are no roots planted for the future. A dependency develops for these external resources, and when the benefactors return stateside, entropy takes its course as their beneficiary slowly proceeds into a state of decay not having developed the internal tools to maintain what was so briefly provided to them. For that reason, I implore you to seek with discernment international service organizations and opportunities that partner with the community in a way that provides training and education, develops assets that will perpetuate resources, and integrates community members into service and leadership roles so that, ultimately, unless your calling is to remain on site, you are no longer necessary for the benefit’s sustainability.
