I had to accomplish three things before Susan and I could get on the plane for Barcelona on Tuesday, July 5. First, Susan had to give me a shot to raise my white blood cells. As always, she gave it in the stomach. I then had to get a COVID test which Spain required. Thankfully, I passed. Finally, we drove to Emory where Susan dropped me off to receive two units of platelets. Our dear friend Mark planned to pick Susan and our bags up at the house about four hours later, and then they would pick me up on the way to the airport.

Before my infusion, I noticed the tiny entry point of the needle in my stomach was bleeding. I knew my platelets were low as was confirmed at the hospital; then a chief nurse confirmed what I thought, “You’ll stop bleeding as soon as you get platelets in your body.” But even after we arrived at the airport, my stomach was still bleeding. I had never had this happen with a little shot.

It is true: over the last 21 years, God has been so kind to me whenever I leave the country. I was really not too worried. I figured everything would clear up as we left the ground, or as we left US territory, or at least when we landed in Spain. I was wrong; I bled the entire ten hour flight. As we met Dave and Cindy in the Barcelona Airport, I said to our missionary friends, “Guys, I think we’ll just need to meet you at the camp. I’ve got to solve a bleeding problem.” A helpful airport worker told us the nearest hospital; we gave our one suitcase to Cindy, and we caught a taxi to the ER.

We both had peace, though we had no clue what we were doing. Susan found a way to check me in at the ER, which felt a lot like Grady Hospital in Atlanta. Young doctors-in-training examined me and asked what happened. I told them that my wife had given me a shot and one exclaimed, “Your wife shot you?!” With a bit of charades to overcome the language barrier, we finally got on the same page. They took blood to measure my counts, then the lead person sprinkled some silver nitrate on the wound. Within seconds the bleeding stopped and we celebrated. It took a couple of more hours to find out my blood counts were good and finally another doctor examined me and said I was released.

Now the challenge was finding the camp. Susan and I had done it back in 2018, but I do not trust myself… I am terrible with directions. We took a taxi to the train station and bought tickets to Girona, which was the closest large town to the camp. We followed the kind worker’s directions to the correct platform to catch the train. We were standing with about 200 travelers on one side of the platform when an announcement was made. All of a sudden the crowd started rushing to the other side of the platform. I tried asking several people what was going on, but “No hablo Inglés…” was all I understood. We joined the crowd, got on the arriving train, and found a seat.

“Ay yai yai!” I’ve been lost on a train in Europe before. I always thought the camp was two hours south of Barcelona. After ten minutes, I was convinced we were going north. “Susan, I think we’re going north! We’re going to end up traveling over the Pyrenees Mountains into France!” She said, “Girona is on the way to France. We are supposed to go north.” “What?” I thought, then got up and found someone with a kind face. “Habla Inglés?” “Sí,” she answered. I asked if our train was going to stop in Girona and she said it was. Relief beyond relief! I had been wrong about directions again! I would much rather be bleeding in an emergency room than be traveling the wrong way on a train headed for another country!

In Girona, we met up with Dave, Cindy, and a dozen other Americans they had picked up at the airport. We rode their bus thirty minutes to the camp. Hallelujah! We were in Spain; my bleeding had stopped; we reunited with friends from the past and met others. After a 9:30 dinner, we were ready for bed. As we settled into our cabin for the night, my nose started bleeding. “Ay, yai, yai!”

“So do not fear, for I am with you; do not be dismayed, for I am your God. I will strengthen you and help you. I will uphold you with my righteous right hand.” Isaiah 41:10

Perhaps the best athlete in the group of American coaches is a girl about Karlyn’s age named Maggie. (I wrote about her last year.) She coaches college cheerleaders, high school and middle school athletes, and young girls in Tyler, Texas. Maggie has an unbelievable way of connecting with kids, but she is a no-nonsense coach. Having cheered at Baylor University and then professionally for the Houston Rockets and the Indianapolis Colts, she knows what it takes to be good. Maggie has the gift of ‘speaking the truth in love.’ This is a spiritual blessing in Christ that God wants us all to put to use. ‘Yes,’ the world needs to hear truth, but truth must be told in love. Jesus did this perfectly and we must depend on the Holy Spirit to follow Him. Maggie does just that.

On Sunday, we met in the large dining dining pavilion as many past counselors and leaders joined us for worship and Communion. The campers were to arrive Sunday afternoon. As the hour approached to kick off camp, where should we focus? While Jesus ate His Last Supper with His disciples before His death, He also taught. He gave new meaning to the unleavened bread and fruit of the vine in the Passover meal. He then left us an example: “Now that I, your Lord and Teacher, have washed your feet, you should wash one another’s feet. I have set you an example that you should do as I have done for you.” (John 13:14-15)

As Jesus served, so we are to serve…. As Jesus loves us, so we are to love others… as Jesus gave Himself away, so we are to give ourselves away. The philosophy of L’Arcada is to provide a setting where kids can work hard at the sports they love and experience the love of God through relationships built. ‘They must see Jesus in us!’ At the end of the week, someone shares the Gospel verbally, but other conversations come throughout the week as campers notice something different in these counselors and coaches who follow Jesus.

Dave and Cindy reported at the end of the summer that God had worked powerfully in all of the 2022 camps. There seemed to be more ‘seeking’ than ever before. Teenagers who had never read a Bible were asking where they might get one. One hundred Bibles in the Catalan language were ordered and anyone who asked for one received. On their own, kids were getting up early in the morning to pray and seek God’s will in His Word. Coaches and counselors were able to answer questions and discuss ‘problems in real life.’ Several campers and at least one Spanish worker gave themselves to Christ and many seeds were planted.

We told everyone ‘good-bye’ Sunday night and the Sanchezes took us back to the Girona Hospital Monday morning. We hoped I could quickly receive two units of platelets and take the train to Barcelona to spend most of our last day in Spain. My doctor friend had other plans. I suspect she ordered the platelets be given to me as late in the day as possible so they would hold for the flight home. We spent 11.5 hours at the hospital. The trains had shut down by the time I was released. Dave, who had led the grueling first two days of camp, picked us up and drove 1.5 hours to a hotel Susan reserved near the airport in Barcelona. We arrived after 11:00 pm, then Dave turned around and drove 2 hours back to camp. He sacrificed himself for us. Dave and Cindy are true friends.

After a wonderful breakfast at the hotel Tuesday morning, we took a shuttle to the airport and caught our flight to Atlanta. The platelets held; our dear friend Tim picked us up; God got us home.

‘My command is this: Love each other as I have loved you.’ John 15:12

Spain is a beautiful country full of beautiful people, but statistically it measures to be one of the most broken nations in Europe… drug abuse, abortion, mental illness… Our own U.S.A., though a world power, is quickly becoming famous for its brokenness. But God does not write off nations or people as being beyond hope… He seeks them out.

On each of our three visits, I have marveled at the atmosphere in L’Arcada Sports Camp. Intentional about being ‘real’ and ‘honest,’ the counselors, who went to the camp while young, and the American coaches, many of whom have served several years, are not hesitant to be vulnerable. ‘But God rescued me…’ seemed to always be the conclusion. Friday’s session was full of tears and confession, but God received much glory… as broken men and women praised Him and loved one another. ‘How we all need Jesus,’ I thought, ‘and how we all need one another.’

At the close, our friend Dave shared with everyone that I was going to the hospital and there was a good possibility Susan and I would be leaving Spain soon. The whole group gathered around us and prayed. One person appealed, “Lord, we ask that Dana and Susan be able to finish their time with us.” Much love was poured out and I remembered again that the most beautiful thing on planet Earth is the Body of Christ.

I had asked if any of the Spanish volunteers had witnessed parts of the Olympics held in Barcelona in 1992. The closest town, Banyoles, hosted the rowing events and the citizens are still quite proud.

All the counselors were too young to have witnessed the ’92 Olympics, but Dan, a local leader at the camp, claimed to have been there. His parents watched several games and his mom was pregnant with him!

Shortly after our morning gathering, Viky and Pedro Sanchez, Dan’s parents, took Susan and me to the hospital in Girona, which reminded me of Emory in Atlanta. They laughed about Dan’s claim to have been at the Olympics and confirmed its truth. We told of our experiences during the ’96 Olympics in Atlanta, but we could not outdo their story of watching the Dream Team play the Spain team in the championship basketball game.

Without this Christian couple, we would never have gotten into the Girona Emergency Room; no one in Admissions spoke English. Viky was the perfect advocate! The young medical professionals in the first room I visited aimed to stop my bleeding. They finally inserted silver nitrate into my nostrils. Success! I have only had it in Spain, but I am a big fan of silver nitrate…

In another room, they took some blood and measured my cells. The hemoglobin count was good; the platelet count was not. An expert hematologist visited from another part of the hospital. I could tell she knew her stuff as she drew close and said in perfect English, “Mr. Davis, your platelets are 2000.” I knew she was thinking: ‘So what are you doing out of your country and in mine?’ Meekly, I told her 2000 is kind of normal for me… would she mind giving me enough platelets to get home? Also, would she mind signing an insurance form saying I am fit to fly?

She ordered one unit of platelets, took the form and left. A while later, she returned. “Mr. Davis, I filled out this form but had to stop at the last page. Honestly, I cannot say with confidence that you are fit to fly. If something bad happens on your flight home, our hospital could be held liable.” “I understand,” I replied, “and we don’t want that to happen. So what should we do?”

The doctor inquired about the return time on our original ticket and gave her advice. “This bag of platelets we are giving you today will hold you till Monday. Come back then and we will give you enough platelets to fly home Tuesday morning.” Susan and I looked at each other and knew this was God’s plan. He did not want us to leave Spain early. “We’ll be here Monday morning. Thank you, Doctor.”

We were so thankful the bleeding had stopped and that I had enough platelets for a few days. By the time we got back to camp, I was feeling much, much better. By God’s grace, it looked like we would complete the trip…

“My grace is sufficient for you, for my power is made perfect in weakness.” II Corinthians 12:9

According to the report the previous day at the hospital, I should not have been bleeding, because my blood counts seemed pretty good. I arose early Thursday morning, went to the huge eating pavilion, and talked to God. He still gave His peace and I knew He was with us. I had not slept very well as my nose bled through the night. I prayed I would feel stronger as the day went on, but after breakfast, I felt weaker. As the 10:00 meeting approached, where I planned to encourage everyone with ‘the truth that God has chosen us and we are His beloved children,’ the bleeding started again and I filled my pockets with tissues.

After a time of worship, where I couldn’t even sing, Dave introduced me as the guest speaker for the week. I knew around 30% of the people there, and wondered what everyone thought as this guy wearing a mask stayed in his seat and thanked everyone for the welcome.

Then I noticed the raised hand of a twenty-four-year-old young lady. “Yes?” I asked. “Do you mind if I pray for you?” “Yes! Please do!” I must have really looked bad as this was the first question of the day. Hannah prayed a sweet prayer and it seemed everyone was pulling for their guest speaker to survive our first session.

Though I was still bleeding and my voice was weak, the discussion was rich. The question centered on God choosing those no one else would choose. Are the lost and outcast and hopeless ‘beloved’ too? Dan, a leader from Spain, reminded us of the story of the Samaritan woman and referred to its video depiction in The Chosen series. What a perfect example! Jesus re-routed a long journey to Jerusalem in order to reveal this woman’s worth and to let her know she was loved by God. God wants this powerful message to be heard and believed today! He wanted everyone in the room to know they had been chosen and that in a few days over a hundred campers, most of whom had never even heard the Gospel, would have a chance to know the One who created them and to know how much He loves them.

After the morning meeting concluded, Hannah, the girl who had prayed for me, asked to visit. She told Susan and me that I reminded her of her dad, who had been a doctor and died of cancer when she was 12 years old. “If Dad were still alive, he’d be sharing the same message you shared today. After he passed away, so many people told us they loved and followed Jesus because of his influence. Even up to the last month he lived, Dad represented Jesus and let people know of God’s love.” Susan and I were honored Hannah told us about her Dad.

I spent most of Thursday with an ice pack on my nose. “Susan, I don’t know that I can finish the week. Think you should call Delta and see if we can catch an earlier flight home?” Susan called and then asked Taylor to call from the States. There were some seat openings, but it would cost $2000 per ticket to change the dates. Since we only paid $1000 per ticket for the round trip, this was not a good deal. I asked, “What about the emergency insurance we had to buy before signing up to work at the camp?” We called them and they were very nice. Their company would get us home, but we first had to have a doctor’s signature saying I was healthy enough to fly.

We told Dave and Cindy that we needed to go to another hospital to check my blood counts and ask a doctor to sign the documents the insurance company sent us. The plan was made for Dan’s parents to drive us to Girona after I led the second session Friday. I asked two brothers I had gotten to know to lead the last two sessions if we worked things out to leave early.

Meanwhile, I just continued to feel weaker and weaker. “Help us Lord.”

“I love the Lord for He heard my voice; He heard my cry for mercy. Because He turned His ear to me, I will call on Him as long as I live. The chords of death entangled me; the anguish of the grave came over me; I was overcome by distress and sorrow. Then I called on the name of the Lord: ‘Lord, save me!’ The Lord is gracious and righteous; our God is full of compassion. The Lord protects the simplehearted. I was helpless and He saved me.” Psalm 116:1-6

I took a deep breath and slipped my hand up in the air. “Most of you know Susan and I live in Atlanta, so I’ll just comment that I think God communicates with us in many different ways. I don’t often remember my dreams, but last night I dreamed of this very Sunday school class.” A good friend of Susan’s, sitting in front of us proclaimed, “He did! I just heard him whisper to Susan…” Everyone seemed to be getting a little uncomfortable, and I felt sorry for the teacher, but we were all rescued by the bell and class was dismissed. Departing the classroom, several people gathered around, not to tell me I was a heretic, but to share similar stories they had experienced. One said, “I just have never shared my story, because it sounds so crazy.”

Last week I wrote that in January I heard God say, ‘I want you to go back to Spain.’ I am not clever enough to ask for signs like Gideon did, but I did pray God would give me and Susan unity. She was all in. I got in touch with our missionary friends and they were eager for us to return. I told them Karlyn had other commitments, so Susan would be my traveling partner.

God then seemed to line up three conversations, two totally unsolicited, to boost my confidence. A brother whose faith is far deeper than mine seemed overjoyed at the thought of another trip to Spain. He said God would make the way and we need not worry. Next, I had an appointment with the leading radiologist in Atlanta who works with multiple myeloma patients. An area in my arm was causing a bit of pain and my doctor felt thirty days of radiation would help. The radiologist’s name was Mohammed and I liked him at once. He showed me my recent PET Scan compared to other scans of patients. The spot on my arm was not nearly as bright as the other scans. Also, I was not in a lot of pain, so we decided to just keep an eye on it.

Before leaving, the doctor told of his travels to lecture all over the world about the effectiveness of radiation. We discovered we had both been to Israel lately and I said, “I guess my traveling days are coming to an end.” “Why’s that?” the doctor asked. “Well, I have to get platelets twice a week.” “So? Where do you want to go?” When I told him I wanted to go to Barcelona, he said, “That’s a modern city. They do the same things we do in the States. If you are in need, just go to a hospital and ask for platelets. No worries.” “Really? You want to come with me? You can lecture about your profession and I’ll tell people about Jesus!”

Less than two weeks later, one of my favorite nurses at Emory was taking care of me and I told him about the trip. The nurses are always quite busy, but Daniel found the time to pull up a chair and listen to our plans. He was so excited. He encouraged me to pray about it and then live in such a way as to have no regrets. We must have talked twenty minutes. When I got home, I told Susan to buy the tickets. So in March, before the airline tickets increased because of fuel prices, she purchased tickets to depart July 5 and return July 12 for $1000 per ticket.

My doctor always seems intrigued with my trips. His Nurse Practitioner, a dear friend, is more like my mom… she worries about me. “You know, Mr. Davis, flying with low platelets brings its own set of dangers.” But she did not discourage me. My parents support me too… and pray a lot. As we entered April, I had met with my doctors and told my parents. We were committed.

This is where we’ll pick up next week: God seemed to have confirmed His will through other people; Susan and I were in agreement; I was feeling pretty good as we entered the last month of school. Only God knew what was ahead.

“I will instruct you and teach you in the way you should go; I will counsel you with My loving eye on you.” Psalm 32:8