Dorina

It’s hard to believe how quickly time has flown so I’m long overdue to catch you up with my life here at the Hope Center. The field service is in full swing, so there is a never a dull moment. This past week we have increased to 3 operating rooms functioning.

Right now, we’re housing over 100 patients, and that means the building is constantly buzzing with movement, laughter, healing, and the unexpected. It’s not unusual to be rushing from one task to another and suddenly feel a tiny hand slip into yours with one of our little patients just wanting to walk beside you. I often have a little group of friends following me around by the end of my shift with them attempting to assist me in all my tasks. 

Although we have our designed roles that we need to complete there are the numerous other tasks that come up day to day. One moment I’m checking in on a post-op wound that needs some extra love and attention, the next I’m grabbing the keys to fill up a vehicle with gas or running to restart the generator during a power cut. Sometimes I’m coordinating a ride to the bus station for a discharged patient to get back to their family, other times I’m in the kitchen making sure we’ve got enough supplies for the coming week. It’s busy, unpredictable, but it’s beautiful.

In the middle of all of it, I’ve found a deep sense of calling. The quiet assurance that this is exactly where God wants me. He’s in the details: in the smile of a recovering patient, in the grip of a child’s hand, in the shared laughter during lunch prep, and even in the long days that stretch me past my comfort zone.

This place and work is showing me more of God’s heart. He’s present through the chaos, using every small task to draw me deeper into His purpose.

The fun doesn’t stop at work but continues into my days off. I’ve been blessed with a circle of friends who bring so much joy and light into my life here. Exploring hidden bakeries in town or walking through a rainstorm just to get a milkshake are memories I’ll never forget. These friendships are a gift, unexpected, unplanned but deeply cherished. 

Thank you for the continual support and encouragement.