Growing up in Africa, I watched families wait, pray, and hope for healing they could not afford. For a long time, I believed miracles were simply things that happened to us.
Over time, I discovered something different:
Miracles often look like ordinary people who choose to show up and do the work.
I have come to believe that love is more than a feeling. It lives in the quiet ways we care for one another: bringing order to chaos, treating people with dignity, and giving our very best in the spaces entrusted to us.
That belief led me to serve aboard the m/v Africa Mercy in Toamasina, Madagascar. Today, I serve as the Night Shift Lead for Housekeeping.
While much of the world sleeps, my team and I work behind the scenes to prepare this floating hospital for another day of healing. We uphold rigorous infection prevention standards, prepare specialized scrubs for medical teams, manage vital patient linens, and ensure that every ward and shared space is clean, safe, and ready for the work ahead.
It is work many will never see.
But I have come to believe that dignity lives in these unseen acts of service.
A clean room tells a patient, “You matter.”
Fresh linens bring comfort in moments of fear.
A safe environment allows medical teams to do their work with confidence.
Without this quiet work through the night, surgeries cannot take place as safely, and healing becomes far more difficult.
I may never stand beneath the bright lights of an operating theatre, but I believe healing begins long before the first incision and continues long after the final stitch. Every person who serves has a part to play in restoring hope.
I have committed two years of my life to this work. Two years away from home, family, and everything familiar. Because I believe the forgotten poor deserve more than good intentions.
Mercy Ships is entirely volunteer-based, which means I personally raise the support needed to remain here.
That is why I am inviting you to be part of this story.
Your support makes this possible
- $5 helps me show up for a single shift and do the quiet work that makes healing possible.
- $50 helps me serve consistently night after night.
- $500 helps sustain me for an entire month on board.
Whether given once or monthly, your support keeps me here.
And being here matters.
Because somewhere nearby, a patient is waiting.
A ward needs preparing.
A night shift is beginning.
Perhaps the miracle someone is praying for today does not fall from the sky.
Perhaps it looks like you, right now, choosing to show up.
Give now to help keep the wards ready for healing.
Together, we can bring hope and healing to the forgotten poor because no one should be forgotten when healing is possible.