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From the Plains of Nineveh: A Nurse on the Front Lines of Mosul
From the Plains of Nineveh: A Nurse on the Front Lines of Mosul
From the Plains of Nineveh: A Nurse on the Front Lines of Mosul
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From the Plains of Nineveh: A Nurse on the Front Lines of Mosul

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This is the journal of a 25-year old nurse, who was stationed on the Plains of Nineveh at the Front Lines of Mosul, with an international disaster team in 2017. While a war raged between government and ISIS forces over the city, the relief team stood by to aid the wounded and dying that came through their trauma bay doors.Each day was deemed unpredictable, as the hospital treated victims of drone attacks, suicide bombers, landmines, snipers, as well as ISIS soldiers who had been hurt in battle. An unnerving amount of patients were women and children.After each day, the nurse would return to her bunkhouse and unload in writing, while explosions of bombs shook the walls around her. Live or die, there was a message needed to be shared.

LanguageEnglish
Release dateDec 26, 2018
ISBN9781999542108
From the Plains of Nineveh: A Nurse on the Front Lines of Mosul

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    Book preview

    From the Plains of Nineveh - Maranatha Weeks

    FROM THE PLAINS OF NINEVEH

    A Nurse on the Front Lines of Mosul

    Maranatha Weeks

    TABLE OF CONTENTS

    INTRODUCTION

    CALLED TO NORTHERN IRAQ

    THE DEPARTURE

    PREPARING FOR THE FIELD

    ON THE INSIDE

    HE SINGS OVER ME

    PEACE I GIVE TO YOU

    CONFIDENCE IN HIM ALONE

    THEY’RE LOVED BY YOU

    DARE TO HOPE

    HE WHO CALLS YOU IS FAITHFUL

    OVERWHELMED

    ACTS OF LOVE

    ALL THINGS WORK FOR GOOD

    HE LEADS ME BESIDE STILL WATERS

    REUNIONS

    OUR STORY

    PSALM

    THE PATIENT. THE PERSON.

    YOU MADE ME BEAUTIFUL

    WAITING

    UNIFIED FOR A COMMON GOOD

    HOME

    EPILOGUE  

    ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS

    This book would not have been possible without my Jesus and His guiding Spirit, while I was writing to make sense of the unfolding events. It wouldn’t have been assembled without the encouragement, prayers, and editing of Danny Weeks, my uplifting and encouraging father. It wouldn’t have been put to print without the design, editing, and formatting of Edward Alemany, and professional editing of Ceclilia Keating. Finally, it wouldn’t have made publishing without the generous advice and help of my brother, Alan Weeks.

    DEDICATION

    This compilation of writing is dedicated to the most supportive and gracious person in my life who released me early-on, so I could take the hand of my Heavenly Father. I would not be here without his continued prayer and encouragement to me.

    I love you, Dad.

    © 2018 Maranatha Dawn Weeks

    The author retains sole copyright to her contributions to this book.

    This is a personal account of Maranatha’s time serving at the Emergency Field Hospital in Iraq. Maranatha is thankful to Samaritan’s Purse for the opportunity to serve at the field hospital and providing the cover photo. Samaritan’s Purse was not involved in the writing or editing of this book.

    Scripture quotations marked NIV are taken from the Holy Bible, New International Version® (NIV®). © 1973, 1978, 1984, 2011 by Biblica, Inc.™ Used by permission of Zondervan. All rights reserved worldwide. www.zondervan.com. The NIV and New International Version are trademarks registered in the United States Patent and Trademark Office by Biblica, Inc.™

    Scripture quotations marked NLT are taken from the Holy Bible, New Living Translation, © 1996, 2004, 2015 by Tyndale House Foundation. Used by permission of Tyndale House Publishers, Inc., Carol Stream, Illinois 60188. All rights reserved.

    Scriptures marked KJV are from the King James Version. Public domain.

    Unless otherwise indicated, all Scripture quotations are from The ESV® Bible (The Holy Bible, English Standard Version®). © 2001 by Crossway, a publishing ministry of Good News Publishers. Used by permission. All rights reserved.

    PART-TIME MISSIONARIES, CHRISTIANITY, HEALTH/MEDICAL CARE, IRAQ CONFLICT, PERSONAL NARRATIVES

    Have you ever wanted nothing more than to put an end to something? To want to run like the wind into that dangerous place and wave out your arms yelling, Please don’t do this! To arrive right before the unthinkable happens, because just maybe I can stop it from happening again, and again…and again. Or maybe, if I can’t stop it, I could at least gather all the children and lead them to safety. After all, a two-year-old can’t run away from a grenade nearly as fast as an adult can. Or maybe, if I can’t manage to gather all the children, I could at least gather all the babies, because they can’t run at all.

    But I can’t. I can’t do any of that. I can only come this far. The only alternative is for you to come to me...after. After the sniper. After the airstrike. After the land mine. Though I would have rather met before, I will be waiting right here for you after. When your parents are not here with you because you were ripped away during the attack, I’ll be right here. When there is no one familiar around you to cry over you and kiss you goodbye as you leave this earth, I’ll be with you. When you wake up and you’re scared by what you see, when you look down and notice that something on your body is missing or shattered, I’m right here. I will hold you close when you’re shaking. I will clean your wounds, I will sing you songs, I will love you forever. And while I wish that we could have met before, I’d rather meet you after than not at all. In this place where we met you are surrounded by the love of many, you will meet people who rushed across the earth to help you.

    Here you can take refuge.

    Sometimes we can prevent someone’s hurt, and sometimes we can only join them after. But whether it’s before or whether it’s after, let us run to each other. Let us run into those dangerous places for each other. And if we can only come this far, then this far we will come, waiting and ready to help them.

    Ann Galgano

    PREFACE

    Slender, fair and excited, she passed through the airport security scan with her personal items conveyed on the belt beside her. We stood beyond lines of passengers and a tall glass partition wall, watching with mixed emotion. She turned looking for us and waved before melting into the milieu of travelers hurrying toward their own destinations. My mind played with the idea that this could be our last goodbye, but the thought was a mist that faded in the light of a gentle assurance of good. Faith reflecting hope through uncertainty.

    This was not the first time she had journeyed as a nurse to serve the Lord Jesus and those less fortunate, but it was a first time to go where battles were being fought and lives were being lost to a ruthless force.

    God had to prepare me also, a widowed father prayerfully opening a willing hand to God who would take and use my treasured daughter at whatever cost he saw fit: To worship Him by trusting His known goodness and sure promises, be they for good or evil, blessing or loss.

    Syria was only a confusing and tortured land far away until I became acquainted with a Syrian university student earning her Ph.D. on the Pacific coast. Her questions were compelling, and as we shared with each other I became aware of how very little I knew about the Muslim culture and faith. In curiosity, I purchased the book ‘Seeking Allah, Finding Jesus’ by Nabeel Qureshi.

    Growing up in a dedicated Christian home, I was surprised how Nabeel’s own upbringing reflected mine; a loving and careful home filled with reflection and sharing, and deep care for others in their faith and in the community beyond.

    I found myself examining my own attitudes and background and came to appreciate a people who lately through the extremism of a few are marked and hated by many, and inexorably displaced. The plight of these peoples who were now refugees grew deep in my heart, and a desire to minister practically to them played in my mind along with various NGO’s offering the opportunity.

    I wish I could go and help I reflected to Maranatha as we drove together. Alarmed she responded, expressing (to my surprise) fear for my safety and her own possible loss. Unknown to me, God was working in her heart also.

    Now, more than a year later, she was going and I was at home to pray, waiting each day for an update with ‘WhatsApp’ or an email with experiences and deep expressions of the soul; questions and answers, terror and peace, sorrow and joy in the midst of a very, very nasty war.

    Centered in the plains of Nineveh, it was fascinating for me to realize that there were more traditionally Christian peoples there than anywhere else in Iraq or Syria or Iran. I was awed at the work of God (begun almost three millennia ago through the failing prophet Jonah) displaying a continuum - both of the gracious hand of God, and the Enemy of

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