Post Title: A Passion for Pill Bottles

The Start

My elderly mother could no longer attend church. It was too much for her. She rarely left her house at all, in fact. Like most shut-ins, she missed her favorite outlets, and church was one of them. When I let them know, an older couple, John and Marilyn, decided to bring church to my mother and me and sometimes, my brother. Basically, John read us the announcements, re-told the sermon our preacher had given earlier and provided the Lord’s supper and took our tithes. My mother listened to the Message from her favorite chair. She cherished the attention they lavished on her.

On one such occasion, John and Marilyn told us the youth were gathering pill bottles to take on a mission trip to a native American reservation in Arizona. John was leading the group. The indigenous group were in great need.

I can do that! Between my brother and elderly mother, we had a great number we could donate. So, I prepared my first bag. John happily led his group with my bag of pill bottles and others in hand.

I felt useful and thrilled to contribute.

But like all projects, it fell by the wayside.

A Halt, then Redirection

When my mother passed away at aged 87, I started up the project again to fill the hours of loneliness and grief. My brother took a lot of medication, and I felt bad to see them simply thrown away. John and Marilyn said the reservation no longer needed them.  Consequently, I googled the Internet to see if I could find an organization that still used them.

I found Proverbs 25 Ministries. They used them to accompany shipments of medical supplies to hospitals, clinics and pharmacies in developing countries.

Prompted by my Overseas Experience

Just before marrying my husband, an Egyptian Army Captain, I was living and teaching in Taiwan. My students, men from various branches and ranks of the Chinese military, had several farewell parties for our three-member teaching team. At one gathering held at a rocky beach, I fell from a higher area due to my sight issues. Though I tried to hide my dismay at the condition of my knees and elbows, they were quite badly gouged and bleeding.

When I got home from the get-together, I showed my legs and arms to our team chief.

She looked horrified. “You need to get that looked at, pronto.”

“I’m getting married in a week’s time. What if …” I wasn’t sure what worried me about a trip to the medical center in Taiwan. I didn’t think they could detain me from leaving the country. They could give me stitches. But they would still have to let me go. I just didn’t want anything to delay my wedding day in Egypt, not even bruises, bloody knees or painful elbows.

In the end, I did go to get my accident checked out. Amid grimaces and lectures in broken English, I received a tetanus shot and several bundles of pills wrapped in Kleenexes to take home.

“But what’s the white one for? And the red one? And that large one?”

“You take. Morning. Night. Like that.”

No prescription bottles at this clinic.

That experience left an impression on me. I took the “mystery pills” in faith. What else could I do?

 

Open Bible on wooden table with text that reads: We have different gifts, according to the grace given to each of us …if you have the gift of encouragement, then encourage … if you have the gift of mercy, then do so cheerfully.
Romans 12: 6-8

 

An Enjoyable Project

I decided to contribute to the Matthew 25 Ministries cause. I mostly cleaned my brother’s pill bottles. A few friends contributed. It cost money to mail the pill bottles, and I didn’t always have money. So how much I contributed depended on my finances.  My brother used to know exactly how to remove the labels to cut down on the time I had to wash them. It became kind of “our project.” He would take the boxes to the post office for me. I felt united with those who championed my cause.

God’s Calming Hand in my Service

As my older brother’s health declined and he faced more prolonged hospital stays, I became very anxious. Washing pill bottles calmed me. I drew closer to God seeking guidance. As my fingers slid over the adhesive and under the running water until I felt the smooth surface emerge, I spoke to God, feeling my own anxiety rinse away. My countenance became smooth, and I gained courage to advocate for my brother in his trials. I needed that time with God and my hands to be busy. I felt God telling me like I was in control of those bottles, He was in control of our sticky, messy life that now included a nursing home for my brother.

A New Purpose for Recycling Pill Bottles

After Mike’s passing, I so missed him. My grief seemed to steal everything from me—my appetite, my desire to write, and it caused more sight loss. While I slowly recovered my appetite and I am beginning to write more regularly again, my sight loss became more noticeable. Even with my white cane, I need a running commentary on where I’m going at each turn or direction.

But when I am at the sink washing pill bottles, I feel in control. My fingers can pick up on sticky parts. They can detect what my sight cannot. So; I feel the Lord has given me yet again a purpose to bolster the challenges I deal with every day.

Isn’t that amazing?

Like writing, I have formed weekly goals to ship them out. I have opened it up the community. I feel a sense of unity with others who have taken up my cause to re-purpose them.

A Leadership Role

Now I feel comfortable in a leadership role, motivating and coaching others to contribute. I think of the long lines of people in Kenya at the clinics there. I know from my travels they have walked more than two days to reach the clinic from their village. I hope they will have pill bottles to know what their pills will do for them. I feel like together we make a difference to the everyday villager in the countryside or the impoverished city dweller needing medicine.

My Ministry

I believe my spiritual gift is encouragement and mercy.  I can achieve both through this pill bottle ministry.

Sometimes passions grow quietly and sometimes they consume. That’s how mine grew, like a flame whipped around in a storm, but is never quelled. And now, like a candle, it burns brightly.

Please share your passion in the Comments below. Was it a short-term passion or a long-time one? Do you see how God has helped you to grow through it?

© Amy L. Bovaird September 14, 2024. All Right Reserved.