Mosquitoes bite

Ugh, I hate malaria.
Please pray for my team, as we’re really taking a beating from the mosquitoes. Pattie was crazy with the stuff for three days and Steve’s poor family just keeps getting it over and over again. It seems just as one gets over it, another gets it. They don’t even wait to take the tests anymore; they throw medicine at fevers right away. Poor little Christian—Steve and Iris’s youngest, a little over 1—was so bad for a few days, with a fever up to 104, we were starting to worry we were going to have to fly him and Iris out to Nairobi .
Steve got his golden mosquito last week—his tenth go of malaria. You can tell he’s about at his limit, as he saw some water standing on top of a container the other day and tipped it over in haste. (Such haste that he tipped it over on me.) He’s said that if the team weren’t here, if he wasn’t committed to serving us and leading us, he’d have yanked his family out of here two weeks ago and pulled out to Nairobi to recover.
I refuse to live in fear of mosquitoes, but I really don’t want this malaria stuff. It gets to your head. (I just wrote to my friend Lara and told her, it’s funny because if we’re even a bit emotional, Steve immediately begins to question if we have malaria. Hehe.) And it makes you miserable, miserable, miserable. Praise God for good medicine, though—this is the kind of stuff that kept the average life expectancy for a missionary in Africa once they hit the field at two years way back when.
But, yeah, keep us in your prayers. We’re headed for Nairobi in a week to get supplies, so hopefully we’ll have a chance for our bodies to recover and for the coming dry season to take care of all the mosquitoes.