Phnom Penh Pals: Team Helm in Cambodia

In full disclosure, this entry is not a happy story.  It involves the death of a child.  And if you are the sort who cannot bear to read of such events, I encourage you please do not read this.  I am writing it not merely because it was horrific and troubling, but because God spoke to me through it. In medicine, it is easy to get lost in our accomplishments.  Toward the end of my time in Bangladesh, I fell into this trap, thinking to myself, "How many lives have I saved since I have been here?"  God forgive me.  I have no power to save lives.  I have never saved a life.  Only the Lord heals. On the last full clinical day of my stay, I went to the physician's room after lunch to do reading on typhoid when one of the nurses came in to inform me they were currently doing an emergent c-section on a 29 weeker, and my presence would be appreciated.  My heart sank.  In the States a baby born at 29 weeks stands a good chance of doing well.  In Bangladesh, our hospital does not ha

Yesterday, I struggled to get my smartphone to charge for the last time (why is that the flip phones circa 1999 are still functioning perfectly, and the brilliant technology of today can't survive even two years?). This weekend, I sent in my last Instagram photo and spent my last bath time scrolling through status updates.  I dragged out my old GPS, and started checking my email on my laptop.  Far fewer than 64 times per day.  I also lost all my contacts in the transaction.  Which means the only people I will be texting in the future are the people who also text me -- which should reduce my list of contacts to about five family members and three friends. Importantly, our family phone bill is now only $25 per month, including taxes and fees. Which is more than $100 less than it was two months ago.  I feel liberated.  This is the beginning of a new thing.  I will carry my Bible again, instead of reading it on YouVersion.  I will actually know where I am going, because I will ha