Showing posts from January, 2017

The tombstone home

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

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


I remember the day you came. A perfect little 18 day old baby with a few illnesses but nothing major. Your distant aunt brought you down from the mountain. I remember them telling me that your moms funeral would be 3 days after you arrived. Her final request was to bring you to me. So here you are going on 5 months soon and you are the sweetest little girl with big brown eyes. When the days of taking care of wild toddlers get long, I can look at your sweet calm spirit and press on. I love you Ina Jean.