I really Schruted it.

In my quiet time Tuesday morning, I asked the Lord to humble me.

I wasn't expecting such an immediate and heavy helping of humility.

My dear mother posted up here a bit already, and news has gotten around inexplicably fast through church channels, but just so we're on the same page--I had a bit of a hectic bike accident Tuesday morning.

The funny thing is, I was so excited about writing everyone and saying how great it was to be back on the dry season schedule--waking up early, enjoying uninterrupted time in the Word before catching the sunrise on my bike, then working in the village centers with the kids for preschool. The perfect beginning to my Lopit day!

But Tuesday I hit a patch of sand, slid into a hole and went head-over-handlebars about a mile from Steve’s compound. I’m so thankful I wasn’t 10K’s out. I’d just passed one of the pastors, who saw me biff it and came running. I came up screaming for Kim—who I knew wasn’t too far behind me, running—but begged Pastor S. to unclip my feet from my toeclips and get the bike off me. He did that and more—yanked me up under the armpits, then took my hurt arm, pulling, pushing and wrenching it around until I finally convinced him to stop. His heart was good, I’m sure. But probably not the ideal response, medically speaking. Yikes.

Kim wanted to run back and get a car, but I didn’t think it was that bad, so we walked. I think three quarters of a mile later, I realized that was a really stupid idea. Steve caught sight of me from his breakfast table and I must’ve looked something terrible, because before I knew it I had ice on my shoulder, Iris at my side and a washcloth on my face.

Would you believe that within two hours of biting it, I was at the airstrip, hitching a ride on a mosquito plane? Pretty amazing stuff. Thank you AIMAIR. I spent most of the first flight (to Loki) bawling and feeling sorry for myself. I spent most of the second flight (a long one, in the tiny plane, to Nairobi) trying not to barf, feeling terrible for Kim (who came with and hates flying) and praying it’d all just be over. Our pilot, Mike, was an all-star; he flew the plane through choppy air and helped take care of me. Thank you, Mike.

Chanda (marked on my medical forms as my “guardian angel”) met us at the airport and, lickidy split, we were at Nairobi hospital.

I couldn’t get surgery that first day—something about respiratory concerns because I’d just flown—but the next afternoon I went in. My collarbone was dislocated from my shoulder blade by about an inch and a half, and all the ligaments torn clear away. So the orthopedic surgeon took a wire and pulled everything back together.

Three days in the hospital was more than enough for me, so I’m happy to be at Mayfield now. But I’m constantly being humbled because I can’t do much for myself and it hurts really bad. I’m here ‘til at least Wednesday, when I have an appointment to get the stitches out. Then, I dunno. Hopefully back to So Sud as soon as possible. Sling for four weeks; recovery will take about six, they say. It will never be 100% again, so my major league pitching dreams have been shattered. Whimper.

Honestly, this couldn’t have come at a worse time—I was so happy to be back home, yet discouraged recently in other ways. (I’ll write on that when I can.) I talk rather flippantly about it now, but—like my mom says—what else can I do? In reality, being out AGAIN for medical stuff makes me wonder if I should even be in the field at all, certainly because it came right after a rough night where it just seemed like nothing we do in Lopit actually gets to the people. (Again, later.)

So, as you pray for healing, pray for encouragement or guidance. And pray for finances; Chanda took care of all that so far, so I don’t know what I’m looking at, but it is still scary, especially since I don’t know how much travel costs insurance will cover, particularly for Kimmie. Just one more thing I’m trying to put off thinking about. Meh.

I’ll write more when I can; typing with one hand is really tiring. Thanks for all the emails everyone; I’m sorry I probably won’t write you back just yet—part of the reason of this lengthy post, so I only have to type it once. I’d better stop now—I seem to be getting more discouraged as I go.

Thanks again, and keep loving Jesus.