A Father’s Heart

Two weeks ago, a young 13 year old boy named Washington was admitted to Tenwek after his leg was crushed by a boulder which fell on him while he was bathing in a river. He arrived more than 24 hours after the injury, having been first “treated” at a small hospital near his hometown. His shattered shin bone was plainly visible beneath a huge defect in the surrounding skin. The dirtiness of the river water, combined with the severity of the open wounds and delay in adequate treatment, meant that infection would be inevitable and difficult to treat.

I spoke with the boy’s father, a young man himself in his 30s, not wanting to paint a false picture, explaining that although we would do what we could to save his son’s leg, amputation might be unavoidable. The man seemed to understand and said, “Please do what you can.” So I prayed with him, asking God to do a miracle.

What followed was a series of surgeries to try to control the infection. At Tenwek, for pediatric patients, we use a drug called ketamine, a relative to PCP (angel dust) to provide sedation for short surgical procedures. Ketamine produces a “dissociative anesthesia,” meaning that although the patient is completely awake during the procedure, he neither feels pain, nor is cognizant of his environment. Often, patients under ketamine communicate very interesting things, and, like a truth serum, can reveal the deeper contents of the heart. Washington told us during his first surgery (in which we removed a large amount of dead skin and bone), in very good English: “My name is Washington, as in Washington D.C., and when I grow up, I want to be a doctor.” Then, speaking in Swahili, over and over again he said the word “babba” followed by the same repeated phrase. I asked the scrub techs what he was saying and they translated, “Daddy, don’t leave me.” And his daddy never did, always sitting by his side in the pediatric ward, constantly there.

At first, it looked as if the infection was under control. However, a few days ago, the leg took a major turn for the worse. Despite multiple surgical debridements and treatment with three IV antibiotics, a foul smell began to emanate from the wound, and Washington spiked high fevers. I spoke again with Washington’s dad, explaining the next surgery would need to be an amputation. “How will he walk?” the father understandably asked with a combined look of anger and desperation. Although I try to avoid making promises I may not be able to keep, I told him, “I will personally make sure he gets a good prosthesis from the U.S.”

My experience with Washington and his father opened my eyes to finally notice the many other fathers on the pediatric ward, constantly there, offering comfort in the midst of tragedy and pain. They remind me of our true Father, whose perfectly strong and tenacious love never lets us go…constantly patient…continually there…comforting when we are hurting…upholding when we are weak…providing hope in the midst of darkness.

Romans 8:15: For you did not receive the spirit of slavery to fall back into fear, but you have received the Spirit of adoption as sons, by whom we cry, “Abba! Father!”

If you would like to donate to Tenwek’s Compassionate Surgical Fund, which helps patients like Washington, please email donations@wgm.org and mention project ID 125-35224. Thanks for all your support of our family!

Camping in the Aberdares

The drive to the Aberdares.

The campsite. Note the small "adult" tent that was pitched under this shelter.

The view from our campsite when we awoke in the morning. The mist in the center of the picture is from the nearby waterfall.

"Native" Jeremiah, barefoot as usual, trying his hand at trout fishing.

To appreciate the size of this waterfall, note the person standing to the right.

Another view...

Trout cooked over an open fire...as the Kenyans' say, "very sweet."

After the rains...

Trying to dry out and get warm. Of note, it is about 50 degrees F.

Jeremiah's legs...remnants of a great weekend.

A few weeks ago, Jeremiah and his entire dorm of sixteen young adolescent males went camping in one of Kenya’s national parks, the Aberdares, a central mountain range about 100 km north of Nairobi, rife with huge waterfalls, forest elephants, rainbow trout, and…rain (the entire water supply of central Kenya comes from this region). The chaperones? Jeremiah’s “dorm dad” (Rodney) and his “genetic dad” (me). After driving 3 hours on slippery dirt roads, stuffed into our “new” used Toyota Regius Ace with 10 somewhat stinky boys, Jeremiah riding shotgun, we arrived at our site and set up camp in the dark. Soon, the sloppy joe meat pot was steaming over the fire, and we settled in for the evening. Rodney and I had no shame in setting up our tent under the makeshift tarp shelter we erected. I found out later why this was such a solid move.

The following morning, while I was cooking breakfast, Jeremiah and about 6 of his buddies emerged from their tents wearing only homemade loin cloths, saying they wanted to “go native” and “blend in” with the environment (which I can assure you did not happen). Aside from this unwanted sight, (which reminded me of a scene from the movie “Lord of the Flies”), the morning was incredibly scenic; and, viewing the surroundings for the first time, I understood why some people call this area the most beautiful part of Kenya. Later, Rodney, an avid outdoorsman, set us all up for fly fishing in the mountain brooks that flowed nearby.

About 1pm, it began to precipitate. At first, this was a novelty for the boys, who were running about, getting pelted with the falling rain and hail, not thinking about how cold they could potentially be in the very near future without dry clothes or a roaring campfire. After a solid two hours and 3 inches of rain, however, the fun was over, and our campsite, including “the adult tent,” was beginning to flood. The majority of the boys took shelter in our van, which was only somewhat dry. We literally built a dike around our tent and dug drainage ditches to protect our only remaining precious resource: dry clothes. The rains let up around 4pm…for about a half hour. It then continued into the evening, and thus we decided to “turn in” early (which for the boys was about 1am). Sometime in the middle of the night, I woke up, noticed that the rain had ended, and looked out the widow of the tent to see the “southern cross” surrounded by the starriest night I have ever witnessed.

The next morning was cloudless, and when the sun edged over the mountains, our campsite began to dry out. After breakfast, Rodney led the boys in a discussion on a Christian view of relationships with the opposite sex, specifically how this relates to the new dating policies at Rift Valley Academy. As I sat listening to these boys share their collective thoughts on the subject (actually with more wisdom than I anticipated), I thought to myself, “Here is an incredible group of young men, missionary kids, each with a unique story of how God got them to this place at this time in life.” And I wondered what each of them would become in the future, products of the rich lives they have been privileged to live.

After one more round of fly fishing, we broke camp and headed home. When I arrived back at Tenwek later that evening, I took a long and very hot shower, amazed at how thankful I could be for something we so easily take for granted. It was a great weekend. Next camping trip in the works: the Suswa caves.

The (Not-So) Typical Work Week at Tenwek

Jeremiah, recovering with cup of chai in hand, after removal of the plates and screws in his knees and ankles.


Total knee replacement done with implants sourced from Nairobi. The goal is to help patients with bad arthritis, and use the funds generated by this program to subsidize care for the poor.


People often ask “What is your typical orthopedic surgery work week like at Tenwek.” Following is a sampling of last week’s schedule, highlighting the most interesting case for each day, and the teamwork worldwide required to make modern orthopedic surgery possible at our rural mission hospital:

Monday: Intramedullary nailing (with a long rod) of a midshaft femur fracture with nails remanufactured by a team of students and professors from Cedarville College. Often times, and not surprisingly, nails that are donated to Tenwek are of extreme sizes, more appropriate for NBA players than the average Kenyan. This team took 80+ of these excessively long nails, and first engineered, then re-manufactured them to the most common lengths (38, 40 and 42 cm). Thank you Cedarville team!

Tuesday: (1) Knee arthroscopy (knee “scope”) in a 34 year old Maasi man who works as a chef at one of the premier safari lodges in Kenya (arthroscopy equipment donated by an orthopedic surgeon from the U.S.). (2) Revision SIGN femoral nailing in a 29 year old Muslim man who reminds me daily to get him the English Bible he requested (I promised him he WILL get it tomorrow!). SIGN Fracture Care International is a company which designs, manufactures and distributes orthopedic implants to medically underserved countries around the world.

Wednesday: Three month old distal clavicle fracture in a 47 year old man. Tough case…that’s all I have to say about that.

Thursday: Total knee replacement in an Indian-Kenyan man from Lake Victoria. The goal is to use the funds earned from this burgeoning “adult reconstruction” program (hip and knee replacement) to subsidize the cost of orthopedic trauma implants for the poor. In the next four weeks, we have 6 additional cases scheduled!

Friday: Ankle fusion in a 73 year old man who was initially (mis)treated at one of the largest hospitals in Nairobi where his broken and dislocated ankle was placed in a cast.

Saturday: Plate and screw removal in a burly, 14-year-old young man by the name of Jeremiah Galat. He insisted that the anesthesiologist NOT give him any sedation so that after he was given the spinal, he could slap his own legs without feeling it, and try to make me laugh during surgery.

Sunday: Sabbath day off! Thank you Dr. Moore (4th year orthopedic resident from University of Alabama) and Dr. Bacon (not-so-retired orthopod from the U.S. who is with us for 4 months) for taking call this weekend. The orthopedic service at Tenwek could not survive without a regular influx of visitors who sacrifice vacation and holiday time to serve along-side us.

In all we do at Tenwek, our goal is to bring glory to the One who saved us because of His own mercy! Thanks for all your prayers and support!!

Titus 3:4-6 But when the kindness and love of God our Savior appeared, he saved us, not because of righteous things we had done, but because of his mercy. He saved us through the washing of rebirth and renewal by the Holy Spirit, whom he poured out on us generously through Jesus Christ our Savior.

On Call

Helen Tangus, one of the lead hospital chaplains, prays with a group of patients.


While dozing off around 11pm last Thursday night, our house phone rang and Heather answered. “Do you want to talk to Dr. Galat?” she asked, clearly a call from the hospital. As she handed me the phone, I could hear chaos in the background, children crying and people talking in heightened tones, obviously stressed by whatever situation was unfolding in Casualty. This, in combination with the strong Kenyan-English accent of the caller, made it difficult for me to understand what was being said. I did, however, hear something about a child with a “traumatic amputation” and thought to myself, I had better head up to the hospital ASAP.

When I walked into Casualty a few minutes later, it was far worse than I anticipated. Over in one corner was a young woman whose right arm was wrapped from hand to shoulder with a blood-saturated dressing. Nearby, a small boy lay quietly on a stretcher, his entire right arm missing, with only a compression dressing on the remaining shoulder. Next to him, several staff members were attending an even younger patient, a little girl about two years old with severe facial and scalp lacerations. Between them stood a dazed, young woman with her own injuries, the mother of these two children, herself completely unable to cope with the trauma or offer any comfort. Across the room sat another, almost juvenile-looking injured mother, ignoring her own pain, desperately trying to nurse the crying child in her lap who also had bandages wrapping both legs. Under the dressings were severe abrasion injuries too horrific to describe. “Will you have to cut them,” the mother asked, looking first at the baby’s legs, and then, with desperation, into my eyes. The entire scene was surreal, and for the first time in years, I found myself slightly nauseated.

“What on earth happened here,” I asked out loud. No one was able to give a solid answer…something about a small bus swerving out of control after hitting a donkey. Stories like this are all too common, but what struck me hard that night was the fact that so many of the victims were multiply-injured women and children. “What are God’s purposes in all this?” I thought to myself as I was completing the amputation of the arm of the first young woman at 2am in the morning. The next day I found my answer, at least in part. Person after person: chaplains, visitors from the U.S., and staff heard about the victims of this accident and visited them, offering prayer and comfort and hope. This is the reason Tenwek Hospital exists, and why we are here, so that the arms of Jesus can be extended to those who are suffering. While answers may often escape us, we can continue, in faith, to reach out to those who are hurting, and trust that God’s purposes are always pure, always loving, and never random.

Please pray for the victims of this accident and the many others that we see at Tenwek on a regular basis. Thank you for all your prayers and support!

2 Cor. 1:5 For just as the sufferings of Christ flow over into our lives, so also through Christ our comfort overflows.

An Unexpected Goodbye

The RVA Crew from Tenwek. Only one student is missing, Brendon Steury.

Settling Jeremiah into his new dorm room.

I will miss regularly interacting with Jeremiah (and wrestling...although less frequently now that he is so big...i.e. more at risk for injury).

As missionaries living and working overseas, “goodbyes” are common, but nonetheless painful, especially when involving those closest to us, and even more so when these goodbyes are unexpected. Jeremiah, our oldest, now a strapping 185lb, 14 year-old freshman in high school, was accepted in April 2011 to the Rift Valley Academy (RVA), a well-known and highly academic mission boarding school about an hour outside of Nairobi on the edge of an escarpment overlooking the Great Rift Valley. About 500 students, K-12, attend this school (which began in 1906), most of which are missionary kids from all over Africa.

The wait list to get accepted to RVA can sometimes be several years long, so when Jeremiah was accepted in April, we were quite surprised. After much discussion and prayer, and with the good advice from many that we should leave the final decision to him, Jeremiah chose, back in April, to defer his acceptance and return to the wait list for the following year. However, when we arrived in Kenya two weeks ago, and after seeing all his friends from Tenwek preparing to go to RVA, Jeremiah began to regret his decision. He came to me and said “Dad, can you call RVA and ask them if that position they offered me is still available.” Knowing the chance of there being an open spot one week from the start of school was next to nil, and wanting to help put the issue to rest for Jeremiah, I said, “Sure, but I don’t think the possibility is good.”

The following day, I emailed the admissions director, just after Heather and I read the devotional in “Jesus Calling” entitled “Entrust your loved ones to me.” We prayed and asked God to open the door if this was His will for Jeremiah’s life. After several hours, and no return email, I decided to call (as Jeremiah originally requested). I reached the assistant principle, and after explaining our situation, and that I knew the request was a longshot, he said, “Let me ask the admissions director…she is sitting right here at my desk!” I could hear her in the background saying “Is that Dr. Galat, Jeremiah’s dad? I was just going to email him to let him know that we have a spot for Jeremiah if he wants it!” This time, we were shocked.

Long story short, we just finished New Parent Orientation with Jeremiah yesterday, and said our unexpected, but peace-filled goodbyes. He is now "on his own" (that is, out of our hands and in God's). It was a hard day for both him and us. But, as is so often the case in our lives, when God works at the last minute and in such a miraculous way, we can be completely confident that He is the one who has done this work. We know we can entrust our son to God, the One who loves Jeremiah (and all our children), far more perfectly than we ever can. Please pray for Jeremiah, that he would adjust well to this new change (yet again), that he would make some really close, solid friends, that he would do well in high school (taking some tough courses), and finally, that he would get fully prepared for rugby season, which starts next spring!

Thank you so much for all your prayers and support!

Home

It is easy to forget how long and grueling the flight from the U.S. to Africa can be…minimal sleep, the logistics of managing 28 pieces of checked containers, carry-ons, etc., and keeping track of Levi (he is a stealthy little fellow). But God blessed this journey greatly…Delta waived $1200 in excess baggage fees and only 2 of 28 pieces did not arrive in Nairobi (not a bad ratio). Customs officials asked only a few questions, and quickly waived us on through without inspecting any bags (after seeing Claire’s big smile).

We have arrived home…and it does not feel like we have even been away these past 14 months. The sound of dogs barking last night (our first night in Nairobi) was almost strangely comforting, lulling me back to sleep. We have often wondered where “home” is, as we do not own a physical structure. Multiple times we have told our kids that “home” is wherever we are as a family, whether in Phoenix, Ohio, Minnesota, or now again in Kenya. This perpetual earthly roving reminds us that our ultimate home is yet to come: the place where we will never move again, never have to say goodbye, never have to re-adjust, and most importantly, be forever with the One who loves us with perfect love, saving us by His death on the cross. Then, we will truly be Home.

Hebrews 11:13-16 13 All these people were still living by faith when they died. They did not receive the things promised; they only saw them and welcomed them from a distance. And they admitted that they were aliens and strangers on earth. 14 People who say such things show that they are looking for a country of their own. 15 If they had been thinking of the country they had left, they would have had opportunity to return. 16 Instead, they were longing for a better country—a heavenly one. Therefore God is not ashamed to be called their God, for he has prepared a city for them.

Paradox 2.0

Watching from our balcony the approaching dust storm decending upon the Valley...simultaneously beautiful and foreboding.

As we finish our final few days in America, having completed a good, yet periodically difficult year of furlough, our emotions paradoxically toggle between strong joy and deep sadness (joy in the many memories shared with family and friends as an extreme blessing from God//sadness that we are leaving them for another two years), supernatural peace and self-focused anxiety (peace arising from the knowledge that God has called us, and that He is so near//anxiety when contemplating the seemingly impossible and imminent task of yet another transition, moving our family 10,000 miles overseas, checking 27 pieces of luggage, setting up our “new” house at Tenwek, and resuming responsibility in the orthopedic department), and excitement and fear (excitement to return to the places and the people we love in Kenya//fear of the unknown).

We are reminding ourselves that paradoxical, conflicting feelings are completely “normal” in these times of transition (and thus allowing ourselves to “feel” and to not take ourselves too seriously). But we are also reminded how broken we are, and how much we desperately need Jesus to equip us to accomplish these seemingly impossible tasks which lie ahead. Thankfully, God specializes in doing “immeasurably more than we can ask or imagine” (Eph. 3:21) and we have seen Him do this time and again. Amazing, however, is the paradoxical fact that God works in these impossible ways, in response to the simple prayers of ordinary people. For some reason, God moves when people pray. As such, we are dependent upon, and partners with, you who are committed to praying for us while we serve in Kenya. If you would like to commit to praying regularly for us over the next year, please let us know and we can add you to our prayer team list. Thank you for your ongoing support of our family!

PS. This past year, many people have asked us the question “Why are you doing this work?” (Interestingly, no one finishes the second half of the question which is “when you could have a much more comfortable life here in the states?”), and it has really made us examine our paradigms. Another question (posed in a sermon preached by Pastor Chris Davis this year) helped us resolve this “why” question. He asked “Do you view your gifts as resources to be shared, or earnings to be hoarded?” Bottom line issue…ALL we have is a GIFT from God.

PSS. Heather and the kids have started their own blog, entitled “Real Life…at Home in Kenya” (click to view). Check it out!