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Showing posts from 2017

Noviette

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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

November pictures

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End of the year

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

Change of Plans

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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

A fathers love

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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

Noviette and Novia

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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

Esther's journey

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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

Esther

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I got the message 2 day after she was born. A beautiful 7.5 pound orphaned baby was carried down the mountain by her teenage uncle after losing her mom from child birth complications and her dad from an accident a few months back. She was brought to another ministry, who’s children’s home was already full, so they messaged me. My mind immediately went back to Melody. It had been almost 3 months since the day she breathed her last... but not a single day had gone by that I didn’t think of her sweet soft voice and still small body lying helpless in my arms. I fast forwarded my thoughts and pondered on all the “what-ifs”. What is this baby dies also. What if I have to buy a casket the size of my purse all over again. I had already given away all of my baby clothes. I was scared. Scared to be hurt again. Scared to love again. Scared to try again. She was orphaned. She had no mother and no father and I was asked to take on that role. How could I say no? I saw her precious p

From Then Until Now

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From Then Until Now. One year. Wow. It has been a whole year since La Limye opened the doors and welcomed in the first baby girl. One year of lots of laughter and lots of tears. Memories that I’ll never forget and celebrations that will forever be engraved in my heart. One year of learning the ropes to being a mother figure to the most wonderful group of girls. One year of sleepless nights and bouncing through the hallway 10000 times trying to get the babies to sleep at 2am. One year of watching these girls hit milestones and beat malnutrition like warriors. One year of more sickness’ than my body has ever had. One year of crying out to Jesus and leaning on the only shoulder I had, His. One year of learning to be more independent and taking care of others before myself. One year of answered prayers and joyful recoveries. One year of dodging bullets and gas bombs. Lockdowns and plan B’s. One year of falling more and more head over heels in love with my Savior. Of risking

Melody

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I don’t even know what to say. My whole being is numb. Every ounce of my fiber cries out. If only I could hold you one more time. Kiss your sweet cheeks one more time. Listen to that still small tune that flowed out of your mouth... one more time. She was born in the wee hours of the morning on February 26th. Her mom wanted her dead…but she was rescued. Then the mom fled. Perhaps it was the plan all along. She became number 8 into La Limye. She was so beautiful. I cleaned her up since she hadn’t been cleaned after making an entrance into this world, and I wrapped her up nice and warm and frantically called hospitals to see who could help her. I was scared as I held her three pound body so closely to mine. Living out in a rural area of Haiti meant no doctors close by with the materials needed that could help. She needed a place that had the resources to take in premature babies. So we made the drive. Over an hour in the car as I kept my hand on her little heart to make sure it was sti

The tombstone home

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Silvean It didn’t take long for you to become my best friend. The highlight of my days are going to your cemetery to talk to you. At 81 years old you sleep on top of your mother’s grave. In Haiti some tombstones are more like little rooms, about 7ftx7ft. So thankfully you have a roof over your head, but that doesn’t do justice. As I sit there and talk to you, you always tell me you can’t see me. You tell me this 10 times during our conversation because cataracts had stolen your sight. I met you as you were starving to death. You knew it too. I could wrap one hand around your legs. It is skin and bones. No fat, no muscle. Every day I watch as your eyes swell up with water as you say to me “I’m going to die like this. No one can live like this.” You tell me about the rain and how you get so wet. You tell me about the wind and how during this season in Haiti it is really chilly at night. And then you tell me you can’t see me, but you can hear me. I tell you about Jesus and you

January pictures

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January pictures of my 7 little miracles. Noldine 4 years Ketchina 2.5 years Dachena 1.5 years Ciarha 1 year Annia 10 months Amanda 7 months Ina 4 months