La Limyè Ministries

Ania Dorvil (On-Yah) On March 24th the dream became a vision and the vision became reality. 2 years ago I went to the top of the mountain. It was there where I met some orphans and fully decided to build a home for children. Two years after starting construction, the children’s home opened. On March 5th I spread the word that the home was now accepting children. Every day I prayed and TRIED to wait patiently for the first little girl to arrive. On March 9th a beautiful brown eyed miracle was born. Where? On that same mountain in that same village 2 hours away that I went to two years ago. Her mother passed away after giving birth and the father had no way to provide for her. Milk was obviously limited so she was given tea her first two weeks of life. They would have brought her down to me earlier but they didn’t have the money for a motorcycle. I had to send someone up the mountain to bring the father and his daughter down because he didn’t have the $7.00 needed. Seven dollars ...

He was about 35 years old. His 3 year old and 5 year old with him. His voice cracked as he held in the tears and asked me to take his children. He showed me old, worn pictures of his boys, his wife, his wedding ceremony, the identification cards. He came from another city. 2 hours away. I saw his pain. I saw his sunken eyes. He was ashamed, embarrassed, tired. He had done everything he could do to care for his children, but it still wasn't enough. So his last resort was an orphanage. Most families I meet want their children, but can not simply provide for their basic needs. I thought about this dad. So embarrassed to have to ask for help from a young girl. So ashamed that he could give his boys a better life. I think of his wife. Where was she? Probably at home. Grieving. Wondering if she will ever see her boys again. Knowing this is the best solution for her children. Believing that she made the right choice for their sake. She didn't come with them on the journey to my h...

Varlesnly was 6 months old when she went into the arms of Jesus. I met her in June. She was a beautiful little girl, bright brown eyes, chubby cheeks, a piece of joy to all. There were some problems though. Her mom was young and uneducated. Everyone in the village begged for me to take the child. Everyone but the mom. For though it seemed like she didnt want her baby, I could see deep down in her eyes that there was a little love, a little hope. Everyday for two months I would go visit the family. The ministry provided formula and we constantly reminded the mom that Varlensly was a child of the King, made in His image, and worth more than gold. Things started looking up. I then took a 4 week long trip to the States to fundraise. When I returned, I received the news. "Varlensly te mouri. Li mouri Ellen, wi li vre." No I said. No no no. I just knew I wasn't understanding. I knew I misinterpreted the words I heard. "Varlensly died. He's dead Ellen. Yes it is true....

" If missionary life is so hard, why do they do it?" Because we once met a man named Jesus. No matter how hard we thought Our lives were, We knew His was harder. But He full heartedly gave His all and served. Served knowing he might not get anything in return. "For God so loved the world that He gave.." John 3:16 He gave his all. His Son. He allowed beatings, torture, insults, persecution, even death to happen. In hopes, with great anticipation, that the sacrifice He made would change hearts throughout the world. In hopes that all His children would run back into His arms. He gave it all and it wasn't fair, but he did it anyway. And we don't owe God a thing. The gift of salvation is free to all those who believe. And after tasting such sweetness. After seeing such goodness come from the Lord. After receiving the free gift of eternal life. There's no other way we would want to live. We as missionaries desperately want homes for the orphans. We eag...

Working in devil's territory is hard. Being a sheep in a pack of wolves is harder. But Jesus said it is worth it. My next door neighbor just turned to voodoo. I live in the middle of two villages, so he is my only neighbor. His house and my house. Side by side in the middle of banana fields. I have bible verses written on my wall, he has black flags on his. I have the beautiful sound of a keyboard, he has drums. I guess God got tired of me complaining about the 4a.m. Wake up call given by the lovely roosters, because now it's a little bell that "calls the spirits." There is no snooze button. For he rings it for hours everyday. He is dedicated. Very dedicated and it has convicted me. Because some days, sadly, I push God to the back burner. Some days "I'm too busy." And when that happens my prayer life sinks, my spiritual growth slows down, and my attitude slips up. For months now I thought I needed a friend. Someone to encourage me, someone to hol...

Beautifully written and well explained by a missionary to Thailand named Karl Dahlfred When a new missionary first gets to the mission field, it is obvious where home is. It is that place where you just left. It is the place where you grew up, went to school, got an education, discovered a church family, and formed your most important relationships. But when you live overseas long enough, a strange transition takes place. Your “home” country doesn’t quite feel like home anymore. When you “go home”, some of the same people and places are there, but life has moved on in your absence. When you show up for the so-called “home assignment” or “furlough,” you can not just pick up where you left off. You are a visitor. An outsider. A guest without a permanent role. Your close friends have made new close friends. Half the people in your home church only know you as a line item on a list of prayer requests. Some new technology, slang, or cultural trend has become common place…...