Table of Contents
Title Page
Epigraph
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
ANGEL OF HOPE
Copyright Page
Then the Lord said to Cain, “Where is your brother Abel?”
“I don’t know,” he replied. “Am I my brother’s keeper?”
Genesis 4:9
(NIV)
Therefore go and make disciples of all nations, baptizing them in the name of the Father and of the Son and of the Holy Spirit. . . .
Matthew 28:19
(NIV)
Heather rested her elbows on the ship’s railing and stared outward, her mind filling with a sense of purpose and commitment. “Thanks for talking to me, Ian. I feel much better now. All because of you.”
He too leaned against the rail, his large, rough hands inches away from her soft, smooth skin. “It was my pleasure, Heather. We’re all on the journey of a lifetime. God is our shepherd, and we have only to do what he asks of us. Kindness for one another, love for each other, that is what will change the world. Medicine can heal the body. But only God can make well the human soul.”
His words touched her, and her heart swelled. “I think we’re going to be good friends, Ian McCollum.”
“You can count on it, lass. Yes, you can count on it.”
To My Readers,
This book is close to my heart. Two years ago, I accompanied a missionary team to Uganda. There, I met extraordinary people—missionaries, doctors, and American kids who were working in extreme conditions to help make a difference in the lives of others.
I would like to thank them all for inspiring me with their selfless courage. And I especially thank Dr. Henry Krabbendam of Covenant College and the Africa Christian Training Institute; my son, Erik McDaniel, a youth pastor in Anniston, Alabama, who regularly takes kids on mission trips to developing countries; Benjamin Jacobs, a student at Ole Miss, who served on the Mercy Ship Anastasis; and Dr. Monte Wilson, director of Global Impact Ministries, for their input in helping me create this work of fiction. I hope this book will enable readers to experience different cultures and different ways of looking at the human condition.
If you are interested in learning more about the Mercy Ship ministry, contact:
Youth with a Mission
MERCY SHIPS
P.O. Box 2020
Lindale, TX 75771-2020
1
"I can’t believe you’re giving up your entire summer and fall instead of going to college, Heather. I mean, it’s like forever! And just look where you’ll be living. How can you stand it? There’s no room to move, no privacy either!”
“I’ll be home in time for Christmas,” Heather Barlow reminded her sixteen-year-old sister, Amber. “And I don’t care about the living conditions. As for college, I’ll start in January. You’ll hardly know I’m gone.”
At eighteen, Heather was going off on a Mercy Ship to work in Africa, to try to make a difference in a place where children starved to death or died from terrible illnesses. She had grown up wanting to do something worthwhile with her life, but now that she was actually on board the ship, now that it was almost time to say goodbye to her family, Heather was beginning to feel the clutch of self-doubt. And Amber’s reluctance to see her leave wasn’t helping.
Amber glanced around the cramped quarters. “It’s just so—so primitive.”
Ignoring Amber’s complaints, Heather opened her duffel bags and began putting her clothes into the narrow drawers of the dresser bolted to the wall. She would be sharing this old-fashioned small stateroom with a Swedish girl named Ingrid, whom she’d not yet met.
Across the narrow room, Amber seated herself on a bed attached by cables to the metal wall of the ship. “Ugh! This mattress is so thin, I can feel the springs.”
“It’s a hospital ship, sis, not a luxury liner anymore,” Heather reminded her.
Years before, Anastasis had served as a cruise ship. But in the mid-1980s, it had been converted into a floating hospital, with three operating rooms, a dental clinic, a laboratory, and an X-ray unit. The aging ship, painted white from bow to stern, was more than five hundred feet long and nine stories high. Its staterooms, once luxurious quarters for wealthy travelers, now housed crew and staff—175 volunteers who paid their own expenses and agreed to serve a tour of duty as the ship sailed from port to port, bringing life-saving medical services to countries ravaged by disease, famine, war, and poverty.
Long-term crew members—missionary and medical personnel and their families who had signed up for extended tours of duty—were housed in the more spacious upper-deck staterooms, while short-term volunteers such as Heather were assigned the smaller rooms. The ship’s once-elegant lounge and dining areas served as conference rooms and training centers. Children of the crew and staff attended school on board.
Once the ship dropped anchor in a port, engineers, carpenters, teachers, and evangelists took medical and dental services and supplies into remote areas and inland villages. They built schools, hospitals, and housing, all with donated goods. The Mercy Ship was a floating hospital. And a vision of hope.
“Well, I think it’s a dumb idea to even be going on this trip, and I don’t know why you want to go in the first place,” Amber said, voicing her displeasure once again. “I’ll bet there’s no decent guys to date, and nowhere to go even if there were.”
Heather sighed. It irritated her when Amber sounded so frivolous. Why couldn’t she understand how important this trip was? Heather had spent so much time thinking about the trip, a whole year planning it, and ten days in May at a special boot camp preparing for it. She asked, “Are you trying to make me feel guilty? Because I won’t. I’ve wanted to do this for a long time, and you know it.”
Amber scuffed her fashionable shoes on the floor. “I’m going to miss you,” she said quietly.
“I’ll miss you, too.” Heather saw tears shimmering in her sister’s green eyes. “Hey, what’s this? I thought you’d be glad to have the house to yourself. And no big sister to be in your way when school starts, either. You always said you couldn’t wait until me and my friends were out of high school so that you and your friends could have the halls all to yourself.” Heather sat beside Amber on the bunk and put her arm around Amber’s shoulders.
“What fun is there in being home by myself? Mom and Dad won’t have anything to do but go to work. And grouse at me, of course. You’re the one they think is perfect in this family, you know.”
“They grouse at you now,” Heather teased gently. “So what will be different?”
“You won’t be there to get them off my case.”
“Then don’t do anything to get them on your case.” Heather gave Amber a squeeze. “Honestly, I really do think you go out of your way to provoke them sometimes.”
“If you mean I like to have fun instead of trying to save the world, then guilty as charged.” Amber sniffed and slumped lower on the bunk.
Heather did feel sorry for her sister. Their parents were both highly successful plastic surgeons—their father a wizard in facial reconstruction, their mother a respected specialist in body reshaping. True, much of their practice these days was given over to cosmetic facelifts, liposuction, and cellulite reduction, but they still were renowned fo
r their ability to help the horribly deformed or tragically maimed. Their busy schedules left them with little free time at home. With Heather gone, Amber would be pretty much on her own. She has tons of friends and her senior year coming up, Heather reminded herself. Amber would be fine.
Heather scooted off the bunk. “Look, sis, Mom and Dad will be back from their tour any second now, so please help me out. No pity party, okay? I’ll start to cry, and that wouldn’t be good. I promise I’ll write often. And don’t forget, you all are going to spend a week touring Europe before you have to fly home. That should be fun.”
The ship was docked in London, taking on supplies, and would sail in two weeks for the coast of Kenya. From there, Heather would accompany a special team to Lwereo in central Uganda, where she would work as an aide in the only hospital for the entire district—a hospital staffed by Irish missionary doctors. Heather’s team would also build a dormitory for an orphanage run by Americans. In December, she was to fly directly home, arriving the week before Christmas.
“A week in Europe . . . whoopee,” Amber said glumly. “My idea of fun isn’t tracking through museums and art galleries. Mom’s already got a list this long.” She held her hand above her head. “Is there even one dance club on the list? I think not.”
Heather laughed. “Can you see Dad moshing on a dance floor?”
A smile lit Amber’s teary eyes.
Encouraged, Heather asked, “Or how about Mom fighting her way to the bathrooms? Both of them could get hurt twisting their way through such crowds. Who’d do surgery on the surgeons?”
Just then the cabin door opened and their parents stepped in. Amber quickly wiped her eyes, and Heather got up to meet them, not wanting them to see Amber’s distress.
“Great tour,” their father said. “You’re in good hands. Excellent ORs—state-of-the-art— on a par with the ones I use in Miami.”
“I’m glad you approve.”
Her mother looked apprehensive. “Now I know how my mother felt when she was seeing me off to Guatemala when I was twenty-two.” Heather and Amber’s parents had met years before in the Peace Corps, and their stories of their adventures had inspired Heather all her life. The seeds of her desire to help the underprivileged had been planted early.
“It won’t be easy, you know,” her mother added. “You’ll see things that will break your heart. It doesn’t take much to have your idealism crushed.”
“It’s too late to turn back now. I’ll be fine, Mom,” Heather insisted, feeling more unsure than she sounded.
“Of course you will,” her father agreed, sending her a confident smile. Still, she could tell by the look in her parents’ eyes that they were nervous about sending her halfway around the world. “We’re proud of you, honey.”
A deep blast of a horn, followed by the command “All ashore” over the PA system, made them all jump. Heather’s heart thudded.
“I guess that’s us,” her mom said. She hugged her daughter, then held her hand while they climbed the network of ladderlike stairs from the lower staterooms to the upper decks.
Topside, the June breeze felt cool. The open deck was crowded by other travelers, all in stages of telling families and loved ones goodbye. “This is it,” Heather said, almost losing her nerve and following them down the gangplank to the dock below.
“You write,” her mother said.
“And e-mail on that laptop I gave you,” her father said, giving her a smothering bear hug.
She kissed the three of them one last time, then watched as they left. On the dock, they stood with a throng of people, waving and calling goodbye. Tears filled Heather’s eyes. All at once, the six months away from home and from all she’d ever known loomed like an eternity.
The ship towered above the dock, making them look small and insignificant amid the hustling dockworkers and their equipment. Heather watched her parents and sister climb into a cab. Hanging out the window, Amber blew her a kiss. A lump the size of a fist clogged Heather’s throat, while a breeze from the sea pushed her thick hair away from her face. Tears trickled unchecked down her cheeks.
Lost in sadness, she didn’t realize that anyone was standing next to her until a deep male voice with a soft Scottish accent said, “It seems that your eyes have sprung a leak there, lass. Could I offer you my handkerchief to help mop it up?”
2
Heather swiped at her moist cheeks. She turned to face a young man with red hair and eyes the deep blue color of the ocean. He wore a sympathetic smile and held out a clean white handkerchief. Dazzled by his smile, she said, “I—I’ll be all right.”
“Here.” He tucked the white cloth into her hand. “I’ve never met a lass who had a tissue when the waterworks started.” His tone was gentle, his accent musical.
She dutifully dabbed at her tears to please him.
“Come, walk with me,” he said, offering his arm. “It’s better on the far side of the ship where you can look out over the water. Makes you forget your ties to the land.”
She tucked her arm into his, and his large, warm hand clasped around hers. Together they strolled toward the ship’s stern, away from the sight of her family’s cab driving off.
“Your first trip over?” he asked.
“Yes.” Heather was certain he thought her a big baby. Here she was bawling like a kid whose mommy had left her on the first day of school. “How about you?”
“My third.” He nodded at her. “Ian McCollum, Edinburgh, Scotland.”
She introduced herself.
“Heather . . .” He rolled her name around on his tongue as if tasting it. “Like the heather on the moors. And just as pretty, too.”
She blushed, and he grinned. “In a few days you’ll be so busy you won’t have time to miss anybody.”
“I know you’re right. I didn’t mean to get all sentimental. I’ve been wanting to do this for years, so please don’t think I have any regrets about leaving.”
“It’s a good cause,” he said. “I keep coming back to work between semesters at university.”
“Where do you go to college?”
“I’m a medical student at Oxford,” he said, then added, “Seminary student, too.”
His soft accent fascinated Heather. She caught herself staring at his mouth as he spoke.
“Is something the matter with my words, lass?”
She felt her cheeks flush. “Uh—no . . . of course not. A doctor and a minister?” she asked quickly. “My parents are both doctors in Florida, and believe me, their practice keeps them busy all the time. How can you do both?”
“In truth, I cannot separate the two callings. To heal the body and not touch the soul—well, I could not do it. Physical healing is a fine thing, but to open the gates of heaven for a person . . . ah, well, that’s the greater thing.”
“I guess it’s a little different for me,” she said. “Mom and Dad were both in the Peace Corps—it’s where they met, and they’ve always taught my sister and me that those who have been blessed by God should be generous. And I don’t just mean by giving money away either. I think it’s important to give of yourself, to do something worthwhile for others. I think of people as God’s hands on Earth. A person shouldn’t waste her life, or her blessings. You know what I mean?”
“Yes. It’s more blessed to give than to receive.”
“Ever since I can remember, I’ve wanted to make a difference in the world. I’ve wanted to go out and do something meaningful with my life. When I was a kid, at Halloween—” She broke off. “I’m sorry, I’m babbling.”
“No. It’s interesting. What did you do on Halloween?”
By now they had reached the far side of the ship, and they stood at the rail, looking out at the sea. “When other kids were out collecting candy, I collected money for UNICEF. It always made me feel really good to mail in that donation. I’d think about all the starving children I was helping. Kids in my classes thought I was crazy, but I didn’t care. It was what I wanted to do.”
&
nbsp; “You have a sweet and gentle spirit, Heather.”
She shrugged self-consciously. Sometimes she wished she were different. More like others her age. In grade school, she had been known as the school’s do-gooder and was often teased about it. In high school, kids seemed more understanding, especially when she’d organized a food drive for a Miami homeless shelter and organized a clothing drive for hurricane victims and had been written up in the newspaper for her efforts. Two summers before, she’d been a candy striper at her community hospital and had loved it.
“I get sappy over a Hallmark card commercial,” she confessed, then wondered if he even understood what she was talking about. “You know . . . I cry over anything that gets inside my heart. Sad movies, sad books.”
“Don’t think badly of yourself because you have a tender heart. Such hearts are needed in this world today. You will be touched many times when you go into the bush, Heather, lass. There are many in great need.”
“I guess you’d know since you’ve done this before.”
“Like you, I can’t help myself. It’s my destiny. To make people’s bodies whole. To tell them about God and his love for them.”
Ian McCollum’s purpose sounded loftier than hers because it was double-edged. Once, when she and Amber were younger, in a fit of jealousy, Amber had hurled an accusation at Heather: “You just do this to get attention, you know. It’s your way of getting Mom and Dad to take the time to notice you.”
“And what’s your way? To be as bad as you can be?” Heather had fired back.
Over time, she had often thought that there was a grain of truth in both her words and Amber’s. She turned toward Ian. “What area of medicine are you interested in practicing?”
“Hands-on,” he said with a grin. “I could never be stuck in a stuffy laboratory, or even an operating room, day after day. Out in the bush, children die every day from things that are totally preventable. Stomach parasites, measles, whooping cough—illnesses that a simple vaccination or the right antibiotic can prevent.”
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