La Limyè Ministries

It’s not the first time it has happened. The nannies start yelling for help. I drop everything and run into the nursery to find Noviette rolling on the floor, wailing uncontrollably. The babies are put into their cribs for safety for when arms start flying. All that she will say is that her head is “giving her problems”. All I can do is hold her tight and pray. Pray that all evil leaves her body. Pray that the God of angel armies fills her up with tender loving care. That God puts peace into her bones and calms the storm that is raging inside her soul. “You’ve lost Satan. You’re done. You aren’t welcome here and You have no power over this child of God. In the name of Jesus YOU WILL FLEE.” November is a big month for my next door neighbor, the witch doctor. Voodoo is what some people have blamed all of this on. That the spirits enter and exit Noviette’s mind whenever they want. And because she already have special needs, they have easier access into her mind. Fe Kadejak. It m...

Let’s be honest. There is a lot of things missionaries don’t tell their supporters. For instance the feeling of “ burn-out” for fear that finances will stop coming in. Or explaining the stress and chaos of daily life overseas for fear that they might see you as unfit, unqualified. But let’s be real. We need to be real. So take us missionaries off the pedestal. We are no more worthy. No more holy. No more strong. So read into my diary. You’ll hear the good stories. Stories of success and dedication and victories… but be ready, because you’ll see the nitty gritty stuff too. The stuff that I shouldn’t share but have to. You have come on this journey with me as I spill out my heart onto pages. So here we go. Life doesn’t prepare you to bury your newborn child. Life doesn’t prepare you to watch your 2 week old fall unconscious and stop breathing. It doesn’t prepare you for the knocks on your door “offering” children to you time after time again. It does not prepare you for the mountains...

The trip to the city never happened after filling up the car with gas.  I was excited to get away for a few hours and had planned to indulge in some ice cream at the market.  But everything changed when Alecson, an eight year old little boy knocked on my window with his dirt stained hand reaching out. I rolled down the window and gave him some crackers. I started talking to this brown eyed boy who's life consisted of begging in order to be fed. Eight years old and this is what he must do. Everyday. He hopped in my backseat and we drove 2 miles to the village he previously came from. Hiked for 10 minutes up the mountain and finally arrived to a little hut made out of sticks and leaves and mud. "8 days since we last saw you!" yelled the grandmother. I sat with this family asking many questions and was remembered just how hard most lives are here. Alecson lost his childhood. His mentally ill mother could not provide for him so Alecson took the 2 mile hike to the nearest town...

He bent down and kissed her sweet cheek. My eyes lit up as I watched this father with his child. He actually wanted his daughter. Even though the mother died at child birth, he still loved his baby. Rare. So many times I see fathers giving up their kids. Too much work. Too much responsibility. No bond. But he was different. He showed me that he loved her. But he could not provide. He wanted to give her up for her sake. He wanted me to take her and raise her. But I wouldn't. I couldn't after seeing the way he looked at Vadgencia. I said my speech that I say every time someone offers me their child. "I'll help you with formula, diapers, and a job...if you will raise her. It's always better for a baby to stay in a family." So many times they still say no... but not this dad. He will work his hardest to raise his daughter. He will do anything he can to help his baby girl. Vadgencia has a disease causing a tissue to cover up part of her airways causing her diffic...

Essie had just returned from the hospital stay when Mary (the children's home nurse) came over because Essie was about to be rushed back to the ER. As we were running frantically, tripping over the Nebulizer cords, and trying to count heart beats, she mentioned that a little baby needs to come into my home. Her mom is crippled and I need to do something about it. It stopped me in my tracks for just a minute as I was already flustered wondering if the newborn in my arms was still breathing. I said we will talk about it later but left it at that. A few days later, the baby's story was mentioned to me again and I mentioned that I would like to visit the family and assess the situation in their village. Little did I know what I was getting my self in to. We jumped on the back of motorcycles and drove the uphill battle for 3.5 hours. We got off around 11 times and had to climb over big rocks and track through mud filled paths while the moto drivers pushed the moto through. Af...

It all seems like such a blur. It all happened so fast and as therapeutic as it is to write down my feelings, I have no desire to think back to that day. To those events. Essie Mae wasn't acting normal. I picked her up and knew something was wrong. She wouldn't wake up. Her heart rate was too fast to count. Her lips were turning purple. The feeling of racing to the ER with Melody all came back to real that night. It was around 10pm. We were heading to a hospital 30 minutes away. Essie stopped breathing before we arrived and every ounce of my blood ran to my toes and that same piercing of the heart that I had gone through just 3 months earlier was back stabbing and all I could do was repeat the name of Jesus. Over and over and over. One of my interns started CPR and in that moment I watched God breath life back into her fragile lungs. But the hospital was out of oxygen. The only hope was to go to the city. An hour and a half from where we were. All in hopes that we would ma...