Thursday, December 17, 2015

An orphanage

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 house. How could she? The pain is too deep. The fear is too much. I think of the boys. They were so content when I met them. Happy boys. Holding each other's hands. Perhaps praying. Praying they wouldn't be sold into slavery. Praying they wouldn't be separated from each other. praying whatever house they live in next will have enough food for their stomachs. In their eyes I saw strength. At such a young age, watching their father beg, they were strong. They didn't cry out of fear. they stood close, in peaceful silence. This is only the first of many fathers I'll talk too. Only the first of many children brought desperately to my gate. And so I ask for prayer. Watching the father and his two sons walk away was so hard. My heart hurt wondering what will happen to the children now. What will the mom think when her boys come home. Probably a hidden joy. A fearful love. Another chance. We need prayer. As we open the orphanage in February, we will have many stories like this one. Where I have to lean fully on God in hopes that I'm making the right decision. Should I take them in or should I make them go. The heartache is coming, but so is the joy. Soon, my house will be filled with beautiful children. Children of all ages from all different backgrounds. Children who will learn their worth in God and will know they are HIS adopted children. I pray they come to a safe and loving house. Where they can play without fear. I pray they find the light. We need prayer. Most of you know we have bought more land. Once the orphanage is stable, we will start construction. Part of our plans is a school for adults. Where they can come and learn a trade. A place where they can learn to weld, or paint, or make jewelry. A place they can find a job. A place where we can get them stable on the feet so that they can care for their children. We want to start jobs. That's what they need. They want their children. They just need help. The plan for the orphanage is to take in the abandoned and orphaned. If a child is offered that has a family, we pray we can work alongside that family to teach basic life skills, hygiene, and a trade. This is our prayer. Will you help us? Our website is now up and running! Please prayerfully consider giving a Christmas gift that'll keep on giving! Donate today to the children's home and help be the hands and feet of Jesus this Christmas. And please remember to pray. For the ministry. For the children. For the families. Check us out at www.lalimye.com and see how you can change the future. One life at a time. Merry Christmas

Friday, November 27, 2015

Varlensly and Nelson

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." Voodoo, so they said. "The dead who have already died, are happier than the living, who are still alive." Ecclesiastes 4:2 I wanted to take her home with me that day, but the mother said no. And there's nothing else I could do. Although I miss her sweet smile, her splashing in the bath, her little grin, she is with Jesus now, and I could not be happier for her. A few days ago the same type story was starting to play out. I was called to come in the village. A mother dropped off her 11 month old son at his grandmothers house and had not return in several days. Again, all the women told me to take Nelson home with me. But he had parents, and they were still responsible. The grandmother lives in a house smaller than my bathroom with no fourth wall. Only three standing. She had two outfits, a bowl, a cup, and a shredded towel. And now this baby. A part of me knew the mom would return and I told her we needed to wait before putting Nelson in an orphanage. La Limye decided to sponsor him monthly with the necessities he needs. His smile lights up the whole room. He can't crawl yet, and has no motor skills, but his two teeth are as white as can be and not a speck of malnourishment shows in his dark curly black hair. After a week, his mom returned. It was a beautiful reunion. She wants her baby. She truly loves her baby. She decided that if we can help her provide, then she doesn't want to put him in an orphanage. No body wants to give their child away. They just want help. And they are more thankful than anyone I know. Somethings are out of our control. Sometimes we don't get to decide. Some days we don't know the best solution. But God does and when we look to Him, and his perfect plan, it will be done. Even when we don't understand, He does. "And he took the children in His arms, put his hands on them and blessed them." Mark 10:16 Soon we will start a child sponsorship program. Please prayerfully consider helping these sweet mamas care for their little ones. Our website will be up soon and all information will be located on there. For now, pray, because it changes things.

Saturday, November 14, 2015

All in hope

" 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 eagerly await for hearts to be changed. Seeds to grow. We try to carry the cross in hopes that it'll turn eyes to Jesus. Because He gave his all, it stirs in us a compassion for all. Serving at times is hard. We don't always see much fruit. We give, give, give, knowing we might not get anything in return. We usually don't and that's ok. Except for last week. Djouby is 15 years old. He sleeps on the floor in a one room shack with 4 other people. Djouby comes to my house 3 times a week for English class. He also comes for food. Last week I heard a knock at my gate so I went outside to give him a snack. To my surprise, he had a 4 foot tall sugar cane stick in his hand. "You give me food, I give you food." Were his words. And right when you think your works aren't working, He reminds you it's not about works. It's about grace. Hearts are changed only by the grace of God. And that's what it's all about. "Let us not become weary in doing good, for at the proper time we will reap a harvest if we do not give up." Galatians 6:9 And you can find this salvation too. It's in the name of Jesus. His love makes hearts leap. We love because he first loved us. 1 John 4:19 Peace that surpasses all understandings. Philippians 4:7 I am forever thankful for the Holy Spirit. He does all the work, I just walk around in circles. But it's not about us anyway. It's about him. Oh Jesus let it never be about us.

Tuesday, November 10, 2015

The voodoo man

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 hold me accountable, someone to keep me focused. I think I found the friend. The witch doctor next door. Because when the candles get lit and the drums get loud all I can do is run and cling to Jesus. When the screams and wails get long and the ceremony smoke flows over my wall all I can do is run and cling to Jesus. Let me tell you about this man. He was made in the image of God. No matter how much witchcraft he does, no matter how many dark deeds for the devil.... He is still made in the image of God. And I see that. I see it in his smile. He is made in the image of God. A God who knows all. Who loves all. Who cares for all. So we must not judge him. "For he knows not what he does." Luke 23:34 We must pray... Because prayer works. I've seen it work, we just have to believe. Because he bends down and listens, I'll pray as long as I live. Psalm 116:2

Wednesday, October 28, 2015

This is not home

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… expect for you because you missed it when it first came out. On the mission field, you said things like, “Back in my country….” but few local people in your host country could relate to your story. They listened politely but you knew they didn’t really understand. But that’s okay. You comfort yourself with the thought, “People back home would understand me.” But strangely enough, those people back home who were sure to understand…. well, they don’t. Now that you are home, you are full of experiences and stories from the place that has become your second home. You say things like, “Back in my host country…” But, of course, whatever story you tell them about your host country is hard to relate to. The things that you really miss about your host country receive a blank stare, or a “That’s weird.” After your quaint tale is done, people go back to talking about the local sports team, the latest in national politics, or something else that you haven’t given much thought to in the past few years. It is not that they don’t like you. They do. They are glad you are finally “home.” But those “back home” people simply can not relate to your experiences “out there” in that country with the funny name whose people have even funnier (and unpronounceable) names. On “home assignment”, people say to you, “Isn’t it great to be home!” and you think, “Yeah, kind of.” Now that you’ve had a few of your favorite foods and seen a few old friends, there are fewer reasons to stay “home.” You start to miss all those things about your host country that you came to love. Certain foods, local friends, the ministry role that you were happily engaged in. Home is no longer home. And sadly, that other place on the mission field will never truly be home either. Home is both places, and neither place, at the same time. When at “home”, the missionary dreams about their host country. When in their host country, the missionary dreams about their home country. Missionaries are forever caught between two worlds. They can no longer completely identify with the people whom they left behind in the home country. But they can never truly identify with the people in their host country. Home is everywhere. Home is nowhere. But that’s okay. There have been other travelers on this road. “These all died in faith, not having received the things promised, but having seen them and greeted them from afar, and having acknowledged that they were strangers and exiles on the earth. For people who speak thus make it clear that they are seeking a homeland. If they had been thinking of that land from which they had gone out, they would have had opportunity to return. But as it is, they desire a better country, that is, a heavenly one. Therefore God is not ashamed to be called their God, for he has prepared for them a city.” (Hebrews 11:13-16) While here on earth, we will always feel a bit unsettled and out of place. Missionaries and those of us living away from the place we grew up may experience that more than others. But someday, all those who trust in the Lord Jesus Christ will finally be home again.

Saturday, September 5, 2015


Rahab A woman with a past to whom God gave a future Joshua 2-5 A prostitute, a harlot bound by the life chosen for her. Everyone in her pagen city knew about her occupation, but none knew about her heart. She'd look out the windows from the gates of Jericho and ponder about the God of Moses. She had heard the stories, heard of the power. Parting the Red Sea, manna from heaven, water from rocks. She thought to herself, what good would stone idols do against a God that controlled wind fire and sea? She lived amongst her people, but did not think like they did. 2 spies were sent to check out the city and fell into the path of Rahab. "Because the Lord knows His people wherever they are, even when they're locked inside a pagan city" From her faith, her heart, her boldness, the walls fell, she was free, and the promised Messiah would come through her family. At times it might seem we are living in the walls of Jericho. Not feeling worthy, not feeling good enough, but knowing that His mercies are new every morning. At times it seems we live with the people who don't understand. Who see our past but not our future. We try to convince the nation of His powers. Powers that could never come from a carved statue. Trying to convince others that His love is enough. More than the worldly attatchments. Better than our worldly idols. Look for the path of righteousness and follow it. The things of this world won't save you. We must surrender the feelings of lust and pride. We must stop the hunger for attention, the immodest dress and crude language. The alcohol, the drugs, the lying, the cheating. The darkness We all have a past, we all have fallen short of His glory. But may we not continue to walk in the dark. We are not of this world. We must act different. Be the outcast in the pagen city. Be the believer. You've heard the stories, seen the miracles. He's coming back soon and will rescue us. No matter your past, just like Rahab, He will give you a future. There are many Rahabs in Haiti. Humans that can't seem to get past the darkness, the poverty, the fear. Women born into it. Not able to choose the path. But I know our great God is working in and through their lives and I know that no matter what life throws at them now, the light will shine on and they will have a testimony like no other. Admist extreme poverty, they still believe in His goodness. Join me in praying for the Rahabs of Haiti. We will overcome evil, by faith.

Sunday, August 9, 2015

The days of Jesus

Beyond blessed that La Limye's board of directors and leadership team was able to come to Haiti in June. Here is one of the experiences that was felt. To all, Thank you all for traveling to Haiti to visit La Limye Ministries this past week and working to make the children's home a little closer to being finished. I personally feel blessed by everyone on the trip and am so happy about the new bonds of close friendship I feel for each of you. On the bus while passing some houses on a hill side Cathy made the comment that Haiti looks a lot like how she envisions Israel looked at the time of Jesus. Not just the landscape of mountains and ocean but the way the people lived then and now. I believe her perceptions are correct. In the time of Jesus people lived in stone houses, got their daily water from a well or pool and put it in jars they carried on their head. In Jesus' time was no air conditioning or refrigeration, most people had to walk everywhere, there was no electricity for lights, people slept on pallets on the floor, medical help was nonexistent for most and poverty was rampant. Society was divided into rich and poor and there was little hope of the poor ever leaving their poverty behind. Finally, there were foreign religions that were taking people away from the God of the Bible. (In Jesus' time it was mainly Greek and Egyptian gods and some nature gods worshiped in lands east of the Jordan river. In Haiti we are talking primarily about Voodoo.) Two thousand years ago God sent His Son Jesus to save the people and give them hope for a better life. Jesus is still doing the same in Haiti today. He is giving hope to the hopeless. They may always be in poverty in this lifetime but they have hope in eternal life with Jesus. I feel blessed that God gave me the opportunity to help, in just a little way, the people in the villages near Ellen's home. I feel equally blessed that He chose each of you as well. God bless, Mike

Monday, August 3, 2015

It's the little things in life

The days in Haiti that I love. That I'll never forget. The days when 10 people come to church in earnest rather than 100 that come to play. The days when we sing and dance for Jesus and no one thinks we're crazy. The days the girls braid my hair and ask me 50 times if it hurts When I sit next to an open fire in 100 degree weather cooking with Mary. Talking about life and love, orphans and poverty. She teaches me how to cook Haitian food and helps me with my creole Language. The days I sit with malange and think up baby names for her son that's coming in October. When Edverline tells me that Jesus loves everyone and ask why. The hours I hold Smeralda knowing that her small frail body is uncared for by her mom. And all I can do is hold her tight. When the neighbors come to give me gifts of flowers and plants. I love the days when Valerie come over and we play with baby dolls and watch Veggietales. I love house visits. I'll walk through the visit and sit on the porch with the family and talk about Jesus. I love the days when grandma cooks me rice and serves me enough for 3 meals. The days we make pancakes and put chocolate chips, blueberries, syrup, and peanut butter on them I love the relationships that are being formed and the seeds that are being planted. I love that I'm gaining the respect of the village, even with the witch doctor. I do not have much to offer. I don't have much to give. But they have welcomed me with open arms. These people show me love like Jesus. They show me how to be happy in the middle of poverty. They teach me to laugh at the hardships. I have moved from my rented house into the orphanage now. I am now with these people all day everyday. And more than anything in the world, I want revival here. I want every soul, every heart to be on fire for the Lord. I want teachers and pastors to come to train the men. Women and mothers to come teach the women about beauty and image. Next week starts our English classes for teens in the morning and adults at night. We also will be showing the Jesus Film and cook dinner for the neighbors. We can't do it all. We can't help everyone. But we can look at the one in front of us and love that one. Love the one God put in our path. The ministry does not have big numbers to tell about, or big stories to share. some days all I do is sit in the corner and watch. Working with the poor takes time and effort and sometimes still nothing gets accomplished. But I am here to love like Jesus. I'm here to show say that His power is made perfect in weakness 2Corinthians12:9 and it is He who sets us free. Galatians 5:1 that he is with us and will rescue us. Jeremiah 1:19 and that no matter what, He is our strong tower. Proverbs 18:10 He is our light and our salvation. Psalm 27:1 I say all of this to ask for prayer. God is at work this very minute. He continues to provide and lead. My prayer is that hearts will be awakened to the need of the gospel down here. I pray that people will not be overwhelmed by the need but be available to help just one. I pray for the girls who will come to live with me very soon.. I pray for you. You who have supported the ministry and cheered us on every step of the way. You who encourages me and lifts me up. I pray we don't get weary in doing good. I pray for love, because nothing can be done without love. Sometimes the light is dim, sometimes it's rays are bright, but one thing I know, it's always shining. Because of Him. The creator of it all. The giver. The teacher. The one all credit goes to.

Saturday, August 1, 2015

He is able

It's like a miracle if you ask me. How can one change in an instant? How can one switch lives in a day? I go from being high-maintenance, OCD, insecure to sleeping with the rats, coaked in dust and sweat, and living off of protein bars. Shower pressure ----- drip drops Bed with a/c ------- floor with wind Cereal with milk ----- cereal with water Flushing the toilet every time ---- every 5th time Washing machine ----ditch water Trains ----- roosters Owning the road ---- holding on for dear life I arrived back in Haiti in June after a series of delays. Weather, Maintnence, luggage, lost crew. I knew that was the enemy trying to stress me, or maybe God trying to prepare me. Either way, I complained about the problems all day. Then I arrived. Back to reality. Poverty. Everywhere. 7year olds carrying their weight on their head in buckets of water, naked babies with swollen bellies playing in the dirt, Tin shacks lining the streets, dead bodies, motorcycles, pain, people, trash, guilt. Everywhere I looked. I praise God for giving me the strength to change lifestyles so quickly. To adjust and go with the flow. But there is one thing I'll never adjust to and that's leaving family. Leaving behind the loved ones and turning to the life of loneliness is the hardest part of switching lives. "Those who put their hand to the plow and look back..." Luke 9:62 I hold back the tears and try to be strong yet so yearn for the comfort and security found in family. The connection and similarities. The language and culture. "The bride will leave her mother and father and cling...." Genesis 2:24 Right now, I cling to Jesus. I cling to His promises and His provision. I cling to His security and comfort. I cling to His way that are so much higher than my ways. So easily I can go to the States and ignore the cry of the poor. I forget the urgency of the situations. I become immune to the world and its desires. But when I come back to Haiti, I am reminded all over again. These people have never had the privilege of comparing cities and countries, roosters vs trains, burgers vs rice. But there is one thing that we can share. The part of our lives that can be found in every culture during every situation. Jesus Christ And how can they hear, unless we go. How can we love unless we show My prayer is that our comforts and securities, our hope and hearts would all be the same because of the one King that we worship. " after this I looked and there before me was a great multitude that no one could count, from every nation, tribe, people and language, standing before the throne and in front of the Lamb. They were wearing white robes and were holding palm branches in their hands. And they cried out in a loud voice: Salvation belongs to our God, who sits on the throne, and to the Lamb." Revelation 7:9-10

Tuesday, June 9, 2015

Returning to Haiti

I am flying back to Haiti today from a visit to the States.

This trip back will consist of moving into the orphanage from my rented house.

For the first time in two years I will have a fridge and a stove!
We are beyond thankful for everyone who has made this ministry blossom.

Please be praying for this transition and for the girls who will be arriving sooner than later!

God is so good and may His will be done!

Sunday, May 17, 2015

A Holy Experience by Ann Voskamp

And there’s no holding this tattered roar back.
I’m angry at sin that smothers children and selfishness that steals human dignity and apathy that infects the hearts of the comfortable. And I pound my own chest.
I’m angry at me.
Angry at how much I want comfortable more than I want Christ.
Angry at how much I want to forget that grimy boy leaned over a garbage heap, wiping his fingers along the inside of food tray, looking for anything left. I’m wildly angry that I want to forget the struggle of the poor so I can pin the next pretty idea on Pinterest.
I’m angry that I’ve seen and I’m ashamed that I am angry and I’m angry that I’ve seen and now I am responsible. More than respons-able – we’re response-bound. Once we have seen the poor, we are responsible — we will make a response. As long as your heart is beating, there’s no such thing as unresponsive. We all look into the face of the poor and it’s either Yes, I will help. Or no, I won’t.
There’s no getting off the hook.
Faith cannot have a non-response. 
We’re either responding with indifference or with intercession, either with apathy or aid.
You can’t look into the face of the poor and just plead the fifth amendment. Your life is always your answer.
I feel sick that I feel so angry. 
Sick that I want to Pin with abandon, that I don’t want to be a witnessthat I want someone else be an uncomfortable voice for the poor.Sick that six weeks from now I can grow cold and forget. I have.
Why do Christians make their lives tell all these half-truths? 
On Tuesday, when I wake up on the farm, my throat is sore. I feel like I’ve lost my voice. I feel like my heart is sore.
What do you say in the face of disparity that defies words?
It’s 708 miles from Port Au Prince, Haiti to Miami, Florida – less distance than the length of the state of Texas.
From a city with no sewer system — where every night workers scoop out latrines with buckets and dump the sewage of its 3 million into open, garbage choked ditches cutting through the city – to not only what Forbes named the cleanest city, but the richest city in the United States of America.
The flight isn’t an hour and a half. In ninety minutes, taxing down the runway, we leave the tarped and twigged shacks of people earning less than $750 a year — to suburban McMansions where the average family earns $52,000.
How long can you walk around feeling like you have whiplash? Is heart whiplash what you need to wake your heart up?
Why would we rather turn a blind eye to the needy than turn to the needy and be like Christ? Do we like our own wants and comfort more than we want to be like Christ?

Saturday, May 16, 2015

A normal day

Many people have asked since I haven't taken in orphans yet, what does a normal day look like for me.

"Normal days" occur in my dreams quite often. I dream of shopping with my sisters. Going to work and making enough to always pay the bills. I dream of wearing jeans and my hair down. I dream of Target and sweet tea and the radio. I dream, and then I wake up.

You see, where I live, there is none of that fancy, dancy. It is dark. It is hard. It is a third world, and the word "normal" is no where to be found.

I wake up from sweating to the sweet sound of roosters (who havent quite gotten the correct schedule down pat)and where the sun never blinks. Throw my hair in a bun, put on a skirt, grab a granola bar, and head to the village. Easy I know. So I walk outside to get 100 eyes staring at me because my skin is just so ghostly. I walk pass the ladies washing clothes in the filthy ditch water while their small babies play in the dirt near by.
I arrive at Noldine's house, who is told now to just call me "mama". Feed her, give her medicine, and kiss her cheek.

A lady stops by my car just knowing that I want to but whatever goodies she has for sell in the basket on her head.

I check on the orphanage to see how many more bags of cement to buy. We exceed 1,500 right now.

I pass by the girls who can not go to school because of chores and know this is just a term for slave.

I watch as the children walk the 2 miles home from school, playing by the trash burning, not worrying about their little lace socks getting soiled.

The local begger who is deaf approaches me knowing that standing at the ministry gate is his only access to food for the day.

I watch as the women cook and clean and wash and tend to children every single hour of the day. All without pay.

A typical day always involves some sort of voodoo appearance. Easter day 2015, I walk into the gas station to see a voodoo ceremony being played on the tv and 20 sets of eyes staring like it is their only hope to gain. Easter night come around and a group of around 300 parade through the street, dancing and singing, with flags and cows ready to be sacraficed.  "For they know not what they do"
Luke 23:34

This is life, a simple life, but a hard life.

A "normal" day in Haiti is about to change. In a few short months the children will be coming in. I will take on the roll of a mother to 15 little girls and my days will forever be changed.

I dreamed of them, thought of them, prayed for them. And know, soon, I will meet them.

This is just a small idea of what life looks like each day over here. It is my life, and I wouldn't change it for anything.

May Update

                                           This is Valerie. My neighbor and best friend!
I walked outside to where the kids were playing and found a plastic bag with a dead baby bird in it, no taller than 6 inches. They killed it with a rock and will share it for dinner. I know we eat chicken and turkey but this just turns my stomach. I gave them my left over rice to share.
A day doesn't go by where I don't hear "Ellie, I'm hungry"
"Give me neither poverty nor riches, but give me only my daily bread" Proverbs 30:8

Building a brand new house for Doune, who will be one of La Limye's employees in the near future.

Cooking 17 bags of spaghetti for the village. We top it off with a ketchup/mayonaise sauce!
Our greenhouse/shadegarden on the left. The home for girls in the middle. The front gate entrance on the right.
At 375ft down, we hit lots of beautiful, God given, clean water!!! We have tanks to fill 700 gallons. Half the water will go to the community through a spout outside the security wall, and half will go to the children's home.
                                     Whoever picks up trash the fastest wins the prize!!

We received a bus for the ministry! No more walking miles to school in 100 degree weather! No more piling 8 people in our little pathfinder! And best of all no more taxi's for the mission teams!

Friday, February 6, 2015

At the end of the tunnel

2 Corinthians 4:8-9
"We are hard pressed on every side, but not crushed; perplexed, but not in despair; persecuted, but not abandoned; struck down, but not destroyed."

I wake up and go to wash my face and not a drop of water will come out. My water tank was empty.

I receive a call from a friend saying he had found a great van in St. Marc, one hour North of me. We arrive and find out that there is no bus to be found, but we are told there are several in Port au Prince. So we take the hour trip back towards home and another hour trip towards the city.

Yes, indeed we did find two beautiful vans that could be used for mission teams and the children . The van would probably seat around 15 people. Only problem was there was only one seat in the van. The rest were missing.

(For you all that know this culture, asking questions and calling ahead would of done no good)

As we head further into the city, we pass street orphans and beggers, awomen trying to sell her 5 tomatoes, people without limbs. A dead body. Poverty to the extreme. Yet everyone looked content.

 Light at the end of the tunnel

We were trotting right along when right in the middle of the intersection our car stalls and then completely goes dead. (We just got it out of the shop two days before) As I sit inside sweating like crazy (because I'm not aloud outside in this part of town) men from every direction came to try and help. When nothing worked, they would leave.

Love your neighbor as your self.

The sun was bolting down its heat. Everyone should have been worrying about their own life, but they still came. Not one of them asked for anything in return for their help.

It started getting late and I needed to be home by dark. We negotiated with a tax driver to tow us.

The normal hour long drive was quite an adventure. We stopped 7 times....yes, 7!

3 times because the rope broke, twice for police, and twice because the taxi broke Down.

Usually we are able to just pay off the police. Seeing that the driver was suppose to wear a seat belt, yet the car did not have one. His license was from the Dominican Republic. No break lights, no form allowing us to be towed. But the grace of God was with us.

The rope was so short, we were being drug only two feet behind the taxi. When he hit the breaks, we are suppose to hit the breaks. Since he didn't have break lights we most definitely ran into the back of him.

No big deal though, no one said anything. We just laughed and kept driving.

Maybe that's why I looked at the Haitians and saw contentment in them. Maybe that's why in the middle of poverty, they still smile. Maybe because they look at life and the problems as a puzzle that will be solved in time.

They've dealt with hardships their whole life. They look at life not as hard but as challenging. A challenge they know if they get through, they can smile, knowing they have accomplished the impossible.

Maybe there always is a light at the end of the tunnel. You just have to believe that you see it.

Needless to say, we didn't drive home in a beautiful new bus. But I did make great memories with the Haitians that would walk through fire for me. Because they never stop believing in the light.

Not every situation is like this and not everyone will see the light. But on this particular day, God allowed me to see the goodness in these people. The love they are willing to give. The hope. The light.