Tying up the Ends

Man, theyre cute.

It hurts my throat to say this, but I'm leaving Haiti next week. I have an opportunity for a great job in Phoenix and am heading back a bit early to fulfill responsibilities with said job. Praying for God's provision with that opportunity - I'll spill more info about it later :)

I have loved sharing my Haiti-life with you. Thank you for praying me through this crazy adventure. Look for a new blog shortly about life, faith, love, and a few surprises!

Let me be singing

The sun comes up, its a new day dawning
Its time to sing your song again
Whatever may pass and whatever lies before me
Let me be singing when the evening comes

Bless the Lord, Oh my soul
Oh my soul
Worship his holy name
Sing like never before
Oh my soul
Worship your holy name

You're rich in love and you're slow to anger
Your name is great and your heart is kind
For all your goodness I will keep on singing
Ten thousand reasons for my heart to find

         "Ten Thousand Reasons", Matt Redman

There are a lot of reasons I love Haiti. I love things like sweet-faced kids, gentle-hearted yet also incredibly strong Haitian women, and seeing hope happen. 

And I know, from the Lord Himself, that Haiti will always be in my personal world. As my commitment at Heartline comes to an end, I know my heart will grieve Haiti when I leave in December.  And I don't know what lies before me in the States, but do know that I'll be singing. 

I have the best siblings there ever was and ever will be in all the world. When I think about being close to them every day, my heart jumps up and down on a mini-trampoline with excitement. And probably waves tassels or something in the air. 

2012 has been the best of all my 26 years. I am so very thankful for the time I've spent here and that I still have two months left here. I am so very thankful for everyone who has been praying me through this journey, please don't stop. In about a month I'll start to get sad and my heart will need your prayers. 

Something I'll miss in Haiti. Where the water meets the land. 

This Boy

I've learned a lot about myself in the last seven months. I'm much more of an introvert than I ever thought I was. I'm much more sensitive than I ever thought I was. My heart is soft and I often sadden with ease.

I've learned a lot about who God is in the last seven months. He is much bigger than I ever thought. He loves so much more greatly than I ever understood before. He cares about my heart and wants me to run to Him in my sadness.

Redemption is one of my favorite words. Because without it, what are we really doing? Without redemption at the end of a movie, why watch it? Without redemption at the end of an intense book series, whats the point? So without redemption, I don't often want to write a story.

But today, redemption came. So now I can write.

June

Karen, a dear sweet lady with a huge heart for Haiti and for the Lord visited Haiti. She sponsors a student through our program in Cite Soleil and was excited to spend some time with him. So on a Saturday, I met up with Karen and headed out to the school where we would meet 11-year-old Jocelyn and his mama.

I've gotten pretty good lately at knowing which face belongs to which name in our school, but I've known Jocelyn's face for a couple of years now. I'm not sure why, but it stuck with me the first time I met him.

When we got to the school, Jocelyn was waiting for us outside with is mom, Ginette. Before we entered the building, Ginette shoved some papers into my hands:

     "I am sick. I am going to die."
     "Why do you think you are going to die?"
     "I've been sick for years. The doctors have told me I don't have a lot of time left."
     "Wow, I am sad for you. Can we pray?"
     "Yes. I brought these papers so Jocelyn can go with his sponsor today."
      "Lets go upstairs."

Until this point, we were standing in front of the school building where church was going on, people walking in and out continuously. I was translating for Karen and we decided we needed to have a bigger conversation with her, and we moved up the stairs to the half-build second story.

     "She can take him to America. I am not leaving here with him today."

The conversation went on for 20 minutes or so. I explained to her that someone can't just take a child to America with a few pieces of paper. She seemed to understand but was firm in her stance of leaving our meeting a childless mother.

I called John and Karen called people. I was, and definitely still am, ill-equipped to deal with such a situation. I knew we couldn't take him that day, for legal reasons if none other.

She told me more about her illness, much of which I didn't understand.

I told her that I would make sure to find a good place for Jocelyn to live; that was on me, I just needed some time. She agreed to take him home.

Over the next few months, I had a couple of promising leads, neither of which panned out.

     "Faith is the deliberate confidence in the character of God whose ways you may not understand at the time."

I took Ginette and Jocelyn to the hospital to have some medical tests done, mostly on mama to gain a better understanding of her sickness.

I spent two days with them in early August. Ginette had an EKG and a chest X-ray and they both had blood tests done for TB and HIV.

While Ginette sat and waited for their test results, Jocelyn and I ran some errands. He rode in the front seat with me, with his hand over the air conditioning vent, feeling the cool air.

     "Why is this air cold?"
     "Because I want it to be cold because it is hot outside."
     "Ok, but how does it get cold?"
     "Hm. I don't really know."

We laughed together. At the grocery store, he told me about a time a white person brought apples to his neighborhood and how he remembers loving the way they taste. I bought him the apples.

In the car, just the two of us, I felt he was comfortable enough with me for me to ask him some questions.

     "Do you know that your mom is sick?"
     "Yes. She will die."
     "And what will happen to you?"
     "I will live in our house."
     "By yourself?"
     "Yes. I'm big enough."

When we got back to the clinic, Ginette was still waiting. We got out and waited all together. When they called their names, they took them into a room one at a time and explained their test results.
Jocelyn came out first. Healthy.
Then Ginette. AIDS.

She didn't seem surprised, or even sad. They told her she can't use the same spoon as her son anymore. That made her mad because now she needed to buy a second spoon.

I cried under my sunglasses and all the way back to their house. I gave her some money for a second spoon and I told her I would be in touch.

I talked to the doctor who did her other tests and he told me he expected AIDS because her body is starting to shut down.

Then I was in the States for four weeks. A man named Patrick, who sits on the Board of Directors for a children's home not far from my house at the OK, reached out to me after I posted in a Haiti Missionary Facebook Group about needing a place for an 11-year-old boy. I began communication with Patrick and looked them up online. He was warm and sensitive to the situation and to my fragile heart.

I got back to Haiti and arranged a time with the Home's director to come out and visit Ryan Epps Home for Children.

I felt a warmth in my spirit just being there. For a place filled with parent-less children that should be quite sad, it was beautiful. The kids were happy and expressive. The director, Yvon and his wife Eunid are sweet and seasoned parents themselves. I felt so good about them.

I called Ginette the next morning and told her I wanted her to see this place.

So this morning, I picked up Jocelyn and his mama and took them out to the Home in Croix-des-Bouquets.

Jocelyn played soccer with the boys and Ginette spoke with Yvon as he gave her a tour.

They discussed it between themselves and decided it was best if Jocelyn stayed with them. All the kids lined up and introduced themselves. Then they commenced playing again.

I made him take a picture with me. He would have rather been playing.

Ginette said she'd like to come and visit him a couple of times each month before she dies. I told her I would visit him, too.

Jocelyn is in a place where he will eat three times every day. He will go to school. He will have friends. He will know the Lord. He will be loved.

Redemption rocks.

The Poorest Place

I sit here, frustrated. And sad.


Fox Business featured an article titled "The 10 Poorest Countries in the World". I'm not going to link you to it because I don't really want you to read it. Its really all about numbers, and I don't like numbers. The number 77, when used to say what percentage of Haiti's people live in poverty, is stupid.

To someone reading those black shapes on the white backdrop of a computer screen, 77 looks close to 80, which is a big number. But to me, 77 doesn't look like it should.


It should look something like this.

or maybe like this? 

No? Not seeing 77? Maybe this one, then. 

Or how about a grandmother from Cite Soleil doing all she can to put food in the mouth of her grand-daughter a couple of times a week?

Maybe numbers are the best way to communicate information and I don't give a stinkin care about information. Maybe I'm not smart enough for a "77" to translate to faces and real-life stories and real-life people created in the very image of our one real-life God who has real-life plans for each of them.


I'm not saying I have a better way to tell you about just how poor this place is, but something about souls being represented by numbers, quick numbers, is unfair.


For years now, I've heard "Haiti shpeels" from pastors, team leaders, mission trip team-members and Wikipedia users while standing in front of their congregations or scared faces who put their name on a piece of paper indicating they were willing to go to such a place for a week.


"Haiti, the poorest country in the Western Hemisphere...."


"In Haiti, where the average income is $300 a year..."


Well, here you go, Shpeel'ers: Haiti is now, according to an article I don't want you to read, the poorest country in the world. 190-something countries in the world and Haiti holds this title with 77 out of 100 faces living in poverty. Hungry. Uneducated. Jobless.


So Google the article if you want, but don't breeze through the numbers just as shapes on your screen. Think about what numbers mean.

Of Love in Pictures

I had a relaxing, refreshing, full-of-fun time in the States over the last month. Thanks to everyone who made an effort to see me, to hug me, and to encourage me. I loved seeing your faces.

Here are pictures showing some of my favorite times in Arizona, California and Colorado.

Labor Day - me and the sibs took a day-trip up to Beaver Creek and fell down a lot on mossy creek rocks, hiked and swam. Perfect day. 

Ben fishing in Beaver Creek

Laguna Beach - a fun few days with a good friend who unexpectedly moved to Heaven this week. Thankful for the time I shared with him. 1 Thess 4:13

Beach day with the lovely Hemsley family!

Big Belly Deli in Newport - mmm! 

My date with Zion and Isaiah in Colorado - bowling!

Ladies' night in Colorado! Missed these girls so much!

My birthday dinner at the Rio in Boulder with three of my favorite gals ever.

I am in awe of a God that would bless me so much with such great people in my world. His love is shown through you all, truly. 

Where School is More Than School

Photo by Beth McHoul

A few years ago, I watched an online documentary about child soldiers in Cite Soleil. For years, a line spoken by a 12-year old boy with a masked face has stuck in my heart:

Interviewer: "Do you like being a part of this army?"
Boy: "No, not at all."
Interviewer: "Why do you do it then?"
Boy: "Because I have no one looking after me. If I had someone, I wouldn't be doing this."

He didn't have a person. He didn't have someone who cared whether or not he was clean, or had food in his belly, or went to school. He didn't have someone to hug him.

Every time I am working on Sponsorship stuff or get an email from a sponsor in the States, my mind goes to that boy. And I'm sad for him because I know he didn't have a person. But I'm also encouraged because I know 50 sweet little faces in Cite Soleil who do have a person.

One of my primary love-languages is touch. So selfishly, I look forward to days I spend with the kids there because my touch-bucket spills over. I bring them each into a room, one at a time, and talk to them. I look in their eyes and ask them how school is going and who their friends are. I hold their hands and ask them how I can pray for them. I tell them that they are special and there is a person far away in the United States who cares about them and wants them to be in school. I hug them. All of them. I think this gets annoying to the school administration because it takes a few hours to get through them all, but they'll be just fine.

I've never found a statistic that I trust, but I know the percentage of school-age children who live in Cite Soleil and regularly attend school is small. And the reality of life there is hard. Too hard for me to really understand, much less try and communicate. That 2006-ish documentary said that when kids aren't in school, they're targeted by gang leaders and recruited into their armies. Kids are told they will get to go to school someday if they partner with the gang and learn to shoot and kill.

                 

Our 50 kids eat two meals a day when they're in school. They all sit in a classroom during the week and learn. They all have friends and play. They all know that someone cares about them and wants them to study hard and learn a lot in school. They all know the crazy white lady who likes to squeeze their faces and listen to them sing.

So in a very hot cement building just outside of Cite Soleil, school is more than just school. School is full bellies, smiles, structure, love and hope. 

Sounds like a cool thing to be a part of, huh? Email me for more info. 

A Blog Funk

I'm in a blog funk.

The last two weeks have been super busy with meetings and errands and my to-do list for the next two weeks rivals the craziness of the last two.

Something is wrong with my Mac and it won't read my photo SD card. So no pictures. Which makes me less motivated to blog when I am unable to show you pretty things to go along with my jumbled, nonsensical words.

The Summit was good. Lots of time talking. And talking. And talking. Decisions were made that are good and benefit our ladies.

I go to the States in two weeks. I've learned about myself that about 6 months is my personal max to be away from friends, family and air conditioning. I'm excited to cuddle with my brothers and to laugh with my sweetly eccentric Dayna and to just show them that I love them. I'm excited for a sunny few days in California with my very best Angela. I'm excited for some cool mountain air in Colorado.

And yes, I'm excited to get out of this sticky, gross, so-much-sweat-heat.