Truly Blessed

Today is February 8th. Also known as my birthday. I’ve been looking forward to it for lots of reasons. First, I love celebrating, wearing a sparkly birthday crown, and getting a small and squishy teddy bear from my sister. I’m also excited about turning 17 (finally) because it means that I’ve survived yet another year. Looking back at all that has happened since my last birthday is quite incredible. Actually, the fact that my family and I are still alive is fairly remarkable! But through it all I have seen God’s hand working steadily. He never let me go and that’s all that matters.


Last year at this time, I was celebrating my birthday – Fijian style (well sort of). We started out the day with a scavenger hunt. About 20 people piled onto a truck that was meant to hold 5 and then we set off around Buca Bay. To get each clue, we had to dance the Macarena – often in front of people we didn’t really know. Following all of this ridiculousness was a fantastic celebration that included cake and a salusalu (Fijian flower-necklace). The whole day with filled with shouts of laughter and lots of humidity. Looking back on that day, I never would have imagined how things would change…


In late February, things started to go downhill. People started getting sick and eventually we found out that my mom had Hepatitis A. So Miss Sarah got all us kids together and told us that we couldn’t go in my mom’s room and that we needed to wash our hands like crazy! We figured that we could all cover for my mom when it came to home schooling and taking care of the kids. That all fell apart when we found out that Miss Sarah had Hep A as well. Jessi and I looked at each other with faces that said, “oh boy, heeeere we go”. Here we go is right. The following days found us bringing lots of nasty boiled food to our moms, trying to keep the kids contained and out of the mom’s rooms, and praying that this wouldn’t last too long.


So much for that plan. For a while we thought that my mom was getting better and almost everyone from the two families left Natuvu and went to Rainbow Reef to make room for the team of Pepperdine students that were soon to arrive. Eventually I went back and joined Jessi, Mr. Hawthorne, and my dad as we hosted (well, Jess and I hosted. Dad and Mike built the houses.) all of the college kids. I had been having pain in my ribs for a while which had made it hard to breathe. I thought that I had bruised it somehow and couldn’t seem to shake it. In the mean time, my mom and sisters weren’t doing so good. Margaret had bumped her elbow and the hospital on Taveuni told my mom that she had chipped her bone. They put her arm in a cast, and sent my mom (who was getting worse with Hep A) back to Rainbow Reef.


Eventually, I figured out that I had Hep A as well. Not only that, but my liver (as we figured out later) had swollen (due to Hep A) and was pushing against my ribs which made breathing almost impossible. I was quarantined in my room where I ate boiled food and watched movies all day long. I’m not sure of the exact timeline, but eventually Margaret came back to Natuvu to be checked out by the doctor. She was getting progressively worse and Jess and I spent the whole day trying to get her to eat. As I sat on the bed next to her, I wondered what was going on. The perfect little world of February 8, 2010 was no more and things were spiraling out of control.


My dad was running (well boating, actually) back and forth from Natuvu to Rainbow Reef, trying to help my mom who was really sick and Margaret who was really really really sick. Eventually my parents decided to charter a flight (every other flight was full) to get to the main island, Suva, where they could get serious medical help. So, after a scary night with Margaret (which included my dad telling me that if she lost feeling in her arm, then I would need to run and get the doctor so that he could slice it open. Failure to do so could cause the loss of a limb. Yeah, no pressure.), Mary Sue, Margaret, my dad, and my mom all flew out to Suva. Charlotte, Laura, and I were the only Thompsons left at Natuvu at this point and Laura and I were both really sick.


Then the evacuations began and this is where it gets complicated. Actually, I’m not sure if anyone really knows exactly what happened but I’ll try to explain at least some of it. Basically, Margaret was so sick that she transferred hospitals and then got to the point where she had only a few hours to live. My parents made the decision to have her evacuated to New Zealand and with the help of my aunt all the arrangements were made. A very sick Margaret, a tired Mary Sue, and two very stressed parents arrived in New Zealand where Margaret got help. It was very touch and go since she was on the verge of going septic. Scary to say the least.


In the meantime, Charlotte, Laura, and I were starting to get phone calls from the states. Lots of phone calls. During Margaret’s evacuation, my family back in the states realized that they needed to get us kids out of there so we could get the medical help we needed and be taken care of since our parents would be gone for at least a few weeks. The process of bringing us to the states had begun. With about 20 hours notice, the Hawthorne’s and I (thanks guys!) got us all packed up and ready to go. We only got to say goodbye to a few people and left with promises of “We’ll come back!” and other such reassurances. As we drove away, I looked back at all the familiar faces and tried to comfort myself with the thought of, “its just temporary and we’ll be back in a few weeks”. If only I had known…


Long story short, Margaret’s health progressed slowly but surely while she was in New Zealand. Char, Laura, and I were with my grandparents in Lake Charles and enjoying a lot of grandkid-spoiling. We were still really confused about what the future would hold and the only thought that kept me going was, “Take this day by day. Don’t worry about the future – God’s handling that.” About a month and a half after Margaret’s evacuation, we all ended up in Georgia where we stayed with my aunt and her family.


One of the biggest comforts during all of this was that we knew that at least half of the world population was praying for us. Seriously, though. Our friends and family rallied the prayer troops like nothing I have ever seen before. Our friends in CO had a prayer night for us and my relatives asked everyone they knew to pray for us. We truly believe that they only reason that Margaret is still alive today is because of prayer. I literally have a word doc filled with all the messages and emails I got during all of this. It was amazing to say the least.


While in Georgia, we started thinking about what to do next. Should we move back to Colorado? What about the house we’re building? (Don’t worry, the house was eventually destroyed by a hurricane. Haha.) What about all of our friends back in Fiji? How could we possibly leave them? One afternoon my dad and I went on a walk and he asked me what I thought about moving back to CO. I was pretty startled. Just thinking of the faces of all the precious friends we had made in Fiji made me tear up (and for those of you who know me, that is a rare event). Could God really want us to move back after all of this? I mean, we had sold our beautiful house, got rid of most of our stuff, said goodbye to all our friends, and left everything we had ever known to follow his call to Fiji. Could it really be that we were meant to stay there for only six months?


With all these questions still on our minds, we went back to CO where we reconnected with friends and family – it was awesome! I realized how much I had missed everyone, especially my church family. We lived with our grandparents while we figured out what to do next (thanks Boo and Perkins!) and tried to get our wits about us. To clear our minds and give us room to think, we took a family camper trip to the Grand Canyon and other fun spots. At the last stop on our trip, we came to the decision that God was calling us to move back to Colorado. Wrapping our minds around this was difficult to say the least. Leaving Fiji is probably the hardest decision I have had to face, but knowing that God had been faithful through everything, we felt peace. When we got home, we started to look for a house and eventually found “the one”. The next step was to go back to Fiji to say our goodbyes and deal with everything that we had left there.


So Mary Sue and I found ourselves on a plane back to Fiji (my dad had gone a week before). I was excited, stressed, and, well, really excited!!! I couldn’t wait to see everyone and get closure since I had to leave so fast. The next couple of weeks were filled with hello’s, goodbye’s and HOURS of garage sales. We hung out with friends, went swimming, played music, and soaked in our last days together for a long time. The night before we left, we went to a nearby village for a feast. It was amazing! We sang, ate, danced, and did all sorts of crazy stuff. But my favorite part of the whole trip came at the end of the night…


To give you some background, the girls and I had done a lot of music in this village and had taught them one of our favorite songs: Sweet Sweet Sound by Sarah Reeves. It had been our theme song when we were moving to Fiji and we loved it. Apparently the villagers did too – so much so that they learned the words and sang it all the time. So, when the night of fun and laughter was ending, we sang this song. The lyrics are as follows:

“I am an instrument of the living God, my life a melody to His name. More than the song I sing, worship is everything. I live to glorify my King.

Hear the song of my life. Let it be a sweet, sweet sound. Let it be a sweet, sweet sound.

I raise this anthem high. Let it be a sweet, sweet sound. Let it be a sweet, sweet sound.

Through all the mire and clay, you’re washing me with grace. You’ve carried me, oh Lord, through it all. So I will testify even in the fire. I live to praise my Savior.

Let everything that has breathe praise the Lord, praise the Lord. And all creation will sing hallelujah!”

As listened to the song, I looked around at the faces of the people that meant the world to me. I saw little Victorina singing and looking at me with her shy brown eyes. I saw Jess singing and the peace on her face of knowing that this was where she belonged. I saw Ana and the joy on her face that was a result of Christ coming into her beloved village. I looked around at the people that had loved my family and I and had been so generous to us. I took in the moment. Breathed it in. Tried to memorize the tastes, the smells, the lights, the faces. The immense amount of love. This was the Fiji that I knew and loved. These were the people that had taught me what it means to love people and not the things of this world. I realized that through all of the joy and hardship, God had been creating a story – a story that was, indeed, a sweet, sweet sound to His ears. And I smiled because I realized that God had truly worked through our time in Fiji. He had revealed himself to others through us and people’s lives were changed because of it. Even through all of the mire and clay, His grace had transformed me and those around me. The short six months were part of His plan and what an incredible plan it was. As we drove away that night, the whole village came out to say goodbye and scream “moce!” to us. It broke my heart and repaired it all in one go. God had a plan, and it was a good one. I hoped that my mustard seed of faith in this fact would grow. It was an amazing way to end a chapter in my life story.


The next morning, I woke up to the sound of pouring rain. “Ohhhhhhhhhh noooooooo”, I thought. Moving 20+ bags in torrential Fijian rain certainly wasn’t going to be a picnic. We eventually got everything loaded into the boat and ready to go. We hugged, cried, and said goodbye before pushing off the dock and into Buca Bay. The rain had cleared up quite a bit and as I looked back at the dock, I could just make out everyone’s faces. My emotions were all over the place. Immense sadness at leaving my Fijian family, but at the same time joy in knowing that God had something good in store. But as the boat ride continued on, I had to put my emotions aside to fight for my life. You see, the rain got considerably worse as we puttered along in our small boat that went about 15-20mph. The storm’s intensity increased to the point where I started to get worried. Really worried. The waves were getting higher, the rain was getting stronger, and the wind was picking up a lot. The boat was filling with water and I finally convinced the driver (who was completely chill and actually laughed at me for being worried. Yeah buddy. Nbd. I’m just about to sink to the bottom of the ocean with my sister and dad. No worries.) that I needed to bail it out. There was no way I was going to sit there and let us drown. So I grabbed half of a milk carton and bailed for all I was worth. I should have won an award ‘cause it was that awesome. My dad, in the mean time, was figuring out what we should do when we tipped. He had a plan for floatation devices and everything. Go Dad. I think that I actually got a glimpse into what the disciples felt when they thought were about to die in a storm, except that instead of trying to wake Jesus up, I was looking up and yelling at him and telling him that I was not about to die in some stupid storm. No way. Not after all of this.


By the grace of God, we eventually spotted land. My dad and the driver wanted to still try to make it to the island for our flight but I put my foot down. Nuh uh. No way, Hosea. I wanted land and I wanted it now! So, much to the chagrin of the two men, the teenage girl won and we headed for land. We eventually made it to Rainbow Reef where we met up with the medical team that we were traveling with and after about an hour, we headed out to Taveuni to catch our flight. Our bags were soaked and so were we. Decked out in a pair of random sweats, an old choir t-shirt, and sporting a wet-dog look, I helped my dad start to put all of our stuff back together. When we got to the airport we realized that we had an extra box. It was promptly ripped open and the contents (Lots of books. Sorry mom!) were given away to passerby (they were pumped). We loaded up on a little island-hopper plane and headed back to the main island, where we took a 12-hour flight to LA. By the time we got to LA, lots of the cardboard boxes had disintegrated from the torrential downpour. So, we grabbed big plastic bags (the ones you put carseats in) and shoved stuff in them. Needless to say, the people checking us in were less that thrilled. We bit our nails as we weighed every bag (they were all about 52 lbs) and thanked God for gracious people that let us send them anyways. As we landed in CO, I breathed a sigh of relief that we had made it. And as I got into bed at our new house that night, I closed my eyes and said a quick prayer of thanks for everything. Just everything.


The following months found me starting school, making new friends, and trying to figure out life all over again. Music, calculus, and youth group became my new favorite hobbies and I jumped back into the crazy American schedule that I hadn’t missed one bit in the laid-back culture of Fiji. Just thinking about Fiji brought joy and pain at the same time. Memories of all the amazing things that happened there were comforting but also hard as I realized that I couldn’t walk out of my front door and see beautiful palm trees or walk over to the nearby school and listen to all of the kids singing in perfect 4-part harmony. But God was working through every heartache and I realized that every trial that came along was used for good and for His glory.


Looking back at where I was at this time last year and where I am now, I am amazed by God’s faithfulness. He has walked me through this past year and brought me closer to Himself in the process. He has given me friends, family, experiences, and gifts that bless me more than I will ever deserve. No, it hasn’t been easy. In fact, it has probably been the hardest year so far. But I wouldn’t, not for one minute, trade it for anything. I am thankful for every single lesson God has taught me this year and I praise him for the good and the bad times. All that matters is that my Savior loves me and that someday I will see His face. Life can go where it will, but in the end I am blessed. Indeed, I am truly blessed.

Our last night in Vunikura 

Saying goodbye

Beautiful Fiji