MISSION UPDATE: Acute Kidney Failure

We noticed she seemed a little off. She didn't have her usual energy, enthusiasm, or playfulness. No alarms sounded, though. Everyone has a down day here and there.

But then we noticed her face seemed puffy. And then her eyes were swollen.

We became aware of symptoms Chotika, 11, hadn't shared with us and we knew it was past time to have her checked. So on Sunday evening, we took her to the hospital hoping for answers.

That's not what we got.

Home again, we spent two days watching her and saw some improvement. But then it quite suddenly became clear that God was telling us what the medical profession wouldn't say ... she wasn't okay.

Yesterday (Tuesday, October 22) two of our staff, Best and Bew, went with Hannah and I as we drove to a neighboring province with a bigger, more equipped hospital. And it was there that we got the beginning of a diagnosis ... acute renal failure.

I had an idea that it wasn't something simple when I requested to go to the office of the doctor instead of her returning to our hospital room to talk with us. As I waited with Bew outside her door, my hands felt cold and my heart raced in my chest. I prayed for Cho, I prayed for peace, and I prayed for surrender.

The surrender part is so hard.

The door to her office slid open and a very polite nurse appeared in front of us to direct the way to the seats before the gentle-eyed doctor. We sat down and she turned her computer screen toward me and, in clearly spoken English, began to share what had turned up on the lab reports. Obviously, failing kidneys are serious no matter what, but apparently the trickier part is knowing what caused it.

Because if the cause was an infection, it's more easily treated and healed. However, if hereditary or auto-immune disease factors play a role, the prognosis is more grim and the treatment plan more complex.

That's where we are now; in the metaphorical waiting room hoping the answers to come are of the best case scenario variety.

In the meantime, our girl is very sick and we're praying for guidance as we navigate such an intense circumstance in a culture that, even after 5 years, is often so confusing. We're praying for wisdom to know how to advocate for Cho. We're praying for discernment to know when and how to speak up and when and how to trust what's being said and done. We're praying for healing because we so badly want her healed and yet we're trying to stand with open hands because she belongs to Him and not us.

But we love her, Lord.

To which He responds so loudly that I can almost actually hear it. "I know. I love her, too."

And so we wait, trusting in that love. But we're asking you to trust and praise and pray with us because it's all very scary and surrender is hard.

I'm typing this before I sleep on Wednesday night. Friday morning our boy, Hat, who also happens to be 11, checks into the hospital for pre-op testing for his heart surgery that's scheduled for Sunday. Unfortunately, they won't be in the same hospital but thankfully the hospitals are in the same province.

We're asking for prayer for Hat, too. For the doctors to have wisdom, for Hat to remain free of illness, and for him to heal without complication or infection. But also, for surrender. His condition feels less scary because it seems like there are fewer unknowns. We understand the diagnosis and the treatment plan is straightforward. For that, we're thankful.

Last night they allowed Hannah to stay with me on the ward with Cho so that I'd have help navigating the language. My 6 months of study this year have helped me tremendously but I'm nowhere near the level of my daughters and so I was grateful they allowed her to stay.

But today they moved her to a different ward and it's now a hard, one-person-per-patient rule. So tonight it's Abi who's sleeping beside her because she'll understand so much more of what's being said than me.

I'm thankful for the staff who've supported us the past two days and for my girls who always show up, in every hard moment. I'm thankful we have Ethan, Sarah, Eden, and Luke here right now because they're standing in the gaps we're leaving as we spread out, and they're doing it with smiles and great attitudes. I'm thankful for the many people who continue to reach out to see how things are and to let us know they're praying. They say it takes a village to raise a child...

...but to us, it seems like it takes a world to raise a village.

To God be all the glory for the people, spanning the globe, who help us care for these precious children and who keep us from feeling like we're alone.

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