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How the Virus Stole Easter

By Kristi Bothur (With a nod to Dr. Seuss 😊)

Twas late in ‘19 when the virus began Bringing chaos and fear to all people, each land.

People were sick, hospitals full, Doctors overwhelmed, no one in school.

As winter gave way to the promise of spring, The virus raged on, touching peasant and king.

People hid in their homes from the enemy unseen. They YouTubed and Zoomed, social-distanced, and cleaned.

April approached and churches were closed. “There won’t be an Easter,” the world supposed.

“There won’t be church services, and egg hunts are out. No reason for new dresses when we can’t go about.”

Holy Week started, as bleak as the rest. The world was focused on masks and on tests.

“Easter can’t happen this year,” it proclaimed. “Online and at home, it just won’t be the same.”

Maundy Thursday, Good Friday, the days came and went. The virus pressed on; it just would not relent.

The world woke Sunday and nothing had changed. The virus still menaced, the people, estranged.

“Pooh pooh to the saints,” the world was grumbling. “They’re finding out now that no Easter is coming.

“They’re just waking up! We know just what they’ll do! Their mouths will hang open a minute or two, And then all the saints will all cry boo-hoo.

“That noise,” said the world, “will be something to hear.” So it paused and the world put a hand to its ear.

And it did hear a sound coming through all the skies. It started down low, then it started to rise.

But the sound wasn’t depressed. Why, this sound was triumphant! It couldn’t be so! But it grew with abundance!

The world stared around, popping its eyes. Then it shook! What it saw was a shocking surprise!

Every saint in every nation, the tall and the small, Was celebrating Jesus in spite of it all!

It hadn’t stopped Easter from coming! It came! Somehow or other, it came just the same!

And the world with its life quite stuck in quarantine Stood puzzling and puzzling. “Just how can it be?”

“It came without bonnets, it came without bunnies, It came without egg hunts, cantatas, or money.”

Then the world thought of something it hadn’t before. “Maybe Easter,” it thought, “doesn’t come from a store. Maybe Easter, perhaps, means a little bit more.”

And what happened then? Well....the story’s not done. What will YOU do? Will you share with that one Or two or more people needing hope in this night? Will you share the source of your life in this fight?

The churches are empty - but so is the tomb, And Jesus is victor over death, doom, and gloom.

So this year at Easter, let this be our prayer, As the virus still rages all around, everywhere.

May the world see hope when it looks at God’s people. May the world see the church is not a building or steeple. May the world find Faith in Jesus’ death and resurrection, May the world find Joy in a time of dejection. May 2020 be known as the year of survival, But not only that - Let it start a revival.

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Some amazing kiddos decided to brighten everyone’s day by writing out inspirational sayings and dropping off a whole bunch of snacks at the hospital ER break room. I’m almost in tears. These are some of my favorites... (at Lakeview Hospital) https://www.instagram.com/p/B-qXFMqj5lX/?igshid=1btx1skd7949i

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Might have a heartbreaker on my hands when he gets older...🥰 (at Como Park Zoo & Conservatory) https://www.instagram.com/p/BzGbD_4Ff56/?igshid=sboom43to37c

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#MySunshines https://www.instagram.com/p/BupuW9nlckl/?utm_source=ig_tumblr_share&igshid=qkoe7v1l1uas

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Loved the movies... I don’t even think he knew we were flying. 😂 https://www.instagram.com/p/Btuxw5kljQA/?utm_source=ig_tumblr_share&igshid=remr1ubihfnm

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Guess who’s coming home today?!?? Just taking airport selfies waiting to board our plane... 😁 https://www.instagram.com/p/BttiUUFl2hL/?utm_source=ig_tumblr_share&igshid=1835x7ws98rsd

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For my mom...

This past week I’ve been planning a funeral. I never knew - the details, the decisions, how much everything costs. When my mom was alive, she used to say that she didn’t want us to spend any money on her when she died. She wanted to be buried in a pine box. Well, there actually is a pine box option. It’s twelve-hundred dollars for the coffin alone.  A week ago, today, my mother died. She was young, 68. She dedicated her life to loving Jesus and loving other people. She created a family for people who didn’t have anyone else. She included.  I think that verse in Psalms about how God "sets the lonely in families" might have been written about Donna Stoesz. We used to joke that she would stand outside MSP and wait for people to get off the plane to invite them over for holidays. My mom believed in welcoming people and sharing her home. She was kind, caring and a lovely woman.

At the same time, she wasn’t a marshmallow. My siblings and I nominated her for “the meanest mother” award among our friends and she won— multiple times. She was strict and had what I thought, then, were silly rules. She wouldn’t let me watch R-rated movies or stay out all night with boys. She made me eat my vegetables and do my homework. She took away our Nintendo when we argued over it too much. When we were chronically late for school, she lovingly made us portable egg sandwiches for breakfast, and then made us eat them in the garage during the cold MN winter so that we could see when the carpool was leaving.  

She challenged me to do my best.  When I was a kid, she used to tell me that when I was born she had a dream about me. In the dream, she saw a whole crowd of people falling down and giving up. In the middle, she saw an adult version of me get back up and stand strong.  Now that I am an adult, I only hope I can be that woman. What I do know is that when my mom looked at me, that was the version of me that she saw. She made me better, not because I was trying to please unrealistic expectations but because I knew unquestionably that she believed in me. She was on my team. More than that, she reminded me daily that Jesus was on my team too.

Mom used to say that God had a perfect track record and that he was never late. Right now, I'm struggling with that one. It seems like He was too late. If you read my previous post, you know that my son Josiah is waiting in Uganda for a visa to come home. He’s still waiting. My mom never got to meet him. I don’t know why. There are whole theological libraries dedicated to the question of “why do bad things happen to good people,” intellectually termed “the problem of evil.” I’m going to come right out with my answer, “I don’t know.” It’s hard for me to wade through logic on this one.  

First Thessalonians talks about (paraphrased) not grieving as those without hope and that death isn’t the end. Jesus said in John that, "The one who believes in me will live, even though they die.”  I believe that even though my mother’s body has died, her spirit is alive. I believe that she is with Jesus, something she has wanted her entire life. I believe that God has a perfect track record of being faithful, kind and compassionate. Sometimes those things look different than we expect.  I believe that even if I don’t understand how this is good, it is. I’m not asking anyone to believe the same but I can say that this gives me hope. Right now, I need hope. I think we all need hope. Jesus promised us, “In this world you will have trouble. But take heart! I have overcome the world.”  With bittersweet joy, I can now say that, in Jesus, my mom has overcome the world too.

For any interested, the service to honor my mother is tomorrow Friday February 1st at 11am (visitation 10am) at North Heights Lutheran Church in Roseville (2701 Rice St, Roseville, MN 55113). Luncheon to follow.

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A little over two and a half years ago, I met a wonderful little guy, fell in love and started the difficult, and exceedingly frustrating, battle to be called his mom.  We met while I was working in a rural hospital in the African countryside. He was one and a half, severely malnourished and extremely distrustful when I met him. He slowly allowed me to be around him without screaming and we bonded over watching “Frozen” on my iPhone.  When it came time for him to be sent to an orphanage, I couldn’t bear to let that happen.  I knew in my heart that was not the future that Father God wanted for him.  Even though it terrified me and several close loved ones told me I was making a huge mistake, I decided to try to adopt him myself.  

Because of the legal requirements of his home country, Uganda, the first step was for me to go before a judge to get legal foster custody.  Several agencies told me that this would be impossible for me. However, with God all things are possible. Then I had to partially move to his village and have a steady home there while being overseen by government social workers.  We worked with an American adoption agency and a local law firm to slowly fulfill the requirements and collect the necessary evidence for the court hearing.  Our court date was cancelled several times. My lawyer and I had to travel around the country to the cities where the judge was holding session and formally request that it be rescheduled. Even on the day of the hearing, the judge attempted to again postpone right at the last minute.  I remember at several points worrying that I might have “bet on the wrong horse” in trusting those on whom I needed to depend.  This thought only served to remind me of Psalm 20:7, “Some trust in chariots and some in horses, but we trust in the name of the Lord our God.”  At times, I think the Holy Spirit especially appreciates clever word play. 

This past 2 years veritably defined the term “comedy of errors.” If it could go wrong, it did.  There were numerous delays.  No one seemed to be able to write a report or affidavit correctly the first time.  Witnesses would refuse to appear. The police lost the case file—twice. For the past 6 months, there has been a near-constant threat of ebola crossing the border from the DRC, just a few hours by car.  I broke my foot and had to hobble around on elbow crutches. Josiah almost drowned (he’s totally ok. I got him out.) Our lawyer died. The amount of setbacks in the process could fill a rather long book. Slowly, I started to learn to look at problems not as roadblocks but instead like speed bumps.  With great joy, I am happy to say that this past summer the adoption was approved and made official in the High Court!  Since that time, we have been waiting for the US immigration process to issue an orphan visa so that he can finally come home. Sadly, this has been no easier than navigating the legal system of Uganda.

Also, in a similar time-frame, a little over two and half years ago, my mom got sick. It was slow at first - some random anxiety, odd statements and forgetfulness.  These were the first signs of a rare form of early-onset dementia.  Now, I find myself in an unimaginable situation. While I am here in Uganda awaiting Sy’s visa, my mom’s condition has severely worsened and she’s had to be placed on hospice. Doctors don’t expect her to live much beyond a few days to weeks without life-prolonging interventions. For 2+ years, she has faithfully prayed every day for Josiah’s safe arrival home to his family. She’s emotionally supported me, as much as able, with my frequent and prolonged trips to Uganda. She has pictures of him all over her house and happily tells anyone who will listen about her “newest grandson.” Even now, when her body is shutting down and her mind is failing her, my family tells me that she remembers his name and smiles when they talk about him. Josiah even has a book with her picture and loves to point out his “Nana” whenever reading it.

As an emergency doctor who frequently deals with death, I can fill an entire lecture period with commentary about medical ethics and end of life care, but right now, for me, it comes down to this: I want her to meet her grandson. I know that admitting her to the hospital or giving her IV hydration isn’t going to fix her underlying condition.  I know it could be prolonging suffering.  I know that “giving up” is sometimes the most merciful course and it’s important to respect the patient’s wishes. However, I can’t stop thinking that it’s not fair that she should wait so long and fight so hard to miss by a few weeks the fulfillment of her hopes.  Would she truly want that either? I don’t know the right answer and like everyone who faces these decisions, we’ll have to muddle through and hope we’re making the right choices. Sometimes there’s not a “right choice." Sometimes it’s just "a choice.” Sometimes life is messy and doesn’t work out like a fairy tale. Sometimes the denouement is bittersweet, but sometimes it only seems terribly sad because the story isn’t over yet. Josiah means “Jehovah has saved” and his middle name, Owomugisha, means “blessed one.”  Those two things are both true regardless of how things seem. Eventually, I have to believe that "all things will work together for good,” even if I don’t know what that will look like yet. 

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at Kampala, Uganda

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at Kampala, Uganda

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#ChristmasEve (at Rukungiri District)

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#NewTraditions #ChristmasEve (at Rukungiri District)

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#christmastime #bordercollielife #proudmama

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It’s officially the Christmas season. 😍 #somethingfamilyish #christmastime

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All good things must end...

It's been a while since my last blog post. My international emergency medicine fellowship is, sadly, over. For the layperson not attuned to the lingo of academic medicine, fellowship is an optional position after required medical training finishes. During mine, I got to travel, be a doctor and experience awesome people and cultures, while fully funded. Truthfully, I'm not sure how I managed to convince my bosses to agree to all that in the first place. There’s a slight chance they might be reading this now. So, I’ll hold on further speculation. During the past two years, I was able to advance medical education and emergency medicine in Bolivia, Haiti, Japan, India, Sri Lanka, Nicaragua and of course, Uganda. It was an amazing time of personal learning and volunteering. As a sampling of the projects I’ve been working on… In Bolivia, I got to partner with MELA (Medical Educators for Latin America) and Mano a Mano Bolivia to teach in large group conference settings. Working with Project Medishare in Haiti, our team served in an inner city trauma center to provide direct care. I met some amazing friends and colleagues during that trip. In Japan and Sri Lanka, networking abounded as I met with some brave and inspiring physicians advancing emergency care in developing medical environments. In Nicaragua and India, our team worked with human trafficking victims to provide access to medical care and social support. With Global Emergency Care Collaborative in rural Uganda, I got the privilege to work with some remarkable pioneers and train the next generation of Emergency Care Providers at the bedside. Regardless (irregardless?) of all this, it's over now. It’s hard not to be a little bereft with all the fun coming to an end. Never fear my fractions of dozens of followers! The adventure will continue!! Hellen Keller once said, "Life is either a daring adventure or nothing” - words to which I aspire. Since fellowship, I am currently on my second trip to Uganda for reasons that will be hopefully become abundantly clear in 3-12 months (warning: big reveal at some point). Right now, I am sitting on the porch of my house, yes MY house, surrounded by a gaggle of curious children playing soccer in my front yard. They come over whenever the “mzungu” is out. (Mzungu loosely translated means “white person,” directly translated it means, “one who aimlessly wanders.”) I’ve been lucky to find friends from Uganda, USA, Belgium, Australia and the UK. Yesterday, several of us went dune-buggy-ing in town. You haven’t really seen people unabashedly stare until you’ve been driving through a small African town in an exceedingly loud two seater go-cart, as a woman in pants no less. However, you’ve never really been go-carting until you’ve been on the rocky mountain roads of rural Uganda. For the next week, I get to wake up to a beautiful view from the hillside of Rukungiri town. Then, in less than 2 months, I’ll be back for more. After this adventure is eventually over, I’m not sure where the next one will be. However, I know that I won’t be doing it alone. This is the amazing thing about adventures. At the end of the day, you don’t remember what you did as much as you remember who you did it with. Pictures of scenery and mountains are beautiful, but nothing makes me smile like looking over the ones that have the smiling faces of those I’ve met along the way. To all of those amazing people, thank you and I can’t wait to see you in the next chapter of this adventure that is life!

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...and now I have visitors. 😜 (at Rukungiri District)

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And this is my daily audience... 😂😂 (at Rukungiri District)