Research matters!

     I am back in the States for now, savoring time with friends and family and not writing as much.However, I stumbled across this in Facebook and had to share it. I love almost everything he wrote, but most importantly the call to seriously and thoughtfully research before you give!

Tomorrow

      I head back to Florida early tomorrow morning. Leaving is always bittersweet for me, a byproduct of having my heart so thoroughly divided between two countries. This leaving is easier than some since we've spent much of the last couple weeks dreaming about what next year looks like. I plan on returning to MOHI in early January and am looking forward to my next adventures here. This will be a part of next year, and I am beyond excited for the opportunities it brings with it! Join with me in prayers of gratitude and preparation for my time in the States and for next year?

Time in Ti Goave

I got to spend this weekend visiting friends from Petit Goave and some of the surrounding villages. What grace abounded! There was overwhelming hospitality with delicious food and excellent company.  A chance to see friends dear to my heart, some of whom are now taller than me (not, actually a difficult feat, but it means they are growing). Days filled with laughter and memories and a precious little girl running across a stream to say hello, soaking the bottom of her pants and ignoring the scolding of her caretakers.

There were harsh times too, and time spent with these friends always reminds me why high quality healthcare matters. A missing face and no one knows where she’s gone. A mama of twins, who has apparently had a stroke since since I was last there, and is now unable to walk, speak or stand. With a blood pressure well over 200, this likely could have been avoided if she had had access to blood pressure medications This is what my heart beats for, because you should not, in this day and age go without the basic healthcare you need and ten year old girls should not have to run their homes because their mama cannot.

                 I left my time in Ti Goave renewed on a number of levels. Lots of sleep and fabulous food fueled my body. Ever present reminders of how much I have yet to learn about this language and culture reinforced my desire to learn more about this culture. Seeing again how minimal or no access to healthcare magnifies the suffering of people I care about refueled my desire to see healthcare happen for those without. 

               Will you join with me in continuing to pray for my friends in Ti Goave? First in prayers of praise for the many ways they glorify and reflect our beautiful Lord, but also that He would supply their daily needs, using us as if He sees fit? Thank you.

Headed back

     My three months are almost up. In just over a week I fly back to Florida for a couple of months. As always, leaving this country that holds my heart so tightly gives me lots of feelings. I am looking forward to seeing everyone when I get back, but there are (even more!) people I will miss dearly when I leave. Feel free to keep me in your prayers this upcoming week as I wrap up this time. Thank everyone!

Surprised by hope

                In the last year and a half I have become a sucker for hope. Holding onto hope isn’t something I am naturally gifted in, so having finally begun to learn how to see it, anything the smacks of hope wrenches my heart and steals my breath away. So much grace, that. Sunday afternoon I was given the opportunity to visit the mass grave site where thousands upon thousands of earthquake victims were buried. The drive was hot and dry, the area mostly brown and barren. All of that seemed appropriate for the context. A part of me felt like nothing should ever grow there again, you know? I spent a portion of the drive preparing my heart for what I would find, but as is always the case in this beautiful, contrary country my expectations were nothing compared to the reality of what happened.

 After we arrived and piled out of the van I had a few moments to take in my surroundings, to sit again in my grief about the earthquake. The area was hot and dusty, brown and barren. again, appropriate. Then, as I was standing on the hillside, where thousands were buried below me and looking at mountains that thousands more were buried under I saw something ridiculous. Flowers were blooming on the ground, purple and yellow and totally out of place. All I could think about were fragments of this song, one of my current favorites. The artist talks about the surprise of hope finding a way “through this wasteland of cynics, concrete and pain” and isn’t that Haiti and isn’t it true? Even there, where darkness and pain should reign hope springs through. Two days later and I am still in awe.

(Ten points if you get the title of this entry.)

Learning about leishmaniasis

                We had some excitement on the medical side of things this week. There is a (lovely) American couple working here full time named Kevin and Tammy Groder. Getting to know them has been an expected joy on this trip. Tuesday morning Pastor Kevin mentioned to me that he had a sore on his right forearm, it had been there for a couple of days and was getting worse. What would I recommend? Honestly that kind of thing happens all the time here. Unconcerned, I put him on an antibiotic and assumed it would be clearing up by the morning.              

                Well, that isn't what happened. Wednesday morning, Pastor Kevin’s arm was swollen with redness and inflammation with redness and inflammation creeping up above the sore. The sore itself had at least doubled in size. No one was happy about it. He consulted with some other American nurses and we ended up at the local hospital, looking for a doctor and some more powerful antibiotics. We got prescriptions for antibiotic shots and pills and instructions to return if the infection got worse. Brushing up on my injection skills, I gave him a couple of shots Wednesday. We also traced out the redness on his arm in order to have a reference point to see if it was still spreading Thursday morning.

                Thursday morning, his whole arm was decidedly, alarmingly worse. The redness had spread past Wednesday’s marked out area in two directions, his entire arm was more swollen and his fingertips were tingly and slightly purple.  Slightly purple is not an appropriate skin color ever. At that point we were all getting very alarmed and began pursuing more intensive options. It was a national holiday here in Haiti which meant that the clinic we would normally have gone to was closed. We ended up going into Port Au Prince to be seen at a reputable hospital there, with the backup plan of flying him to Miami if necessary.

                We got in almost immediately at the hospital’s ER (practically a miracle in and of itself!) and were seen by an American doctor. He tentatively diagnosed it as a parasitic infection called leishmaniasis with an accompanying bacterial skin infection. After prescribing some meds, he gave us some instructions about what to watch and hope for if the diagnosis and treatment were correct and what would happen if they weren't. He also had an amazing handlebar mustache.

                After a few tense days and a lot of prayer I am delighted to report that Pastor Kevin’s arm has begun to heal. The secondary bacterial infection is clearing up nicely and the swelling has almost totally resolved. We are looking at weeks or months for the leishmaniasis to heal, but things seem to be improving. To those who heard our prayer requests and acted quickly, thank you so much. Feel free to continue praying as we wait for the primary lesion to heal! Thanks everyone! 

Grace

                Last week was a low one for me, emotionally. Some of it was the steady grief of life here; some of it was the melancholy bent of my personality. The weekend found me self-pitying and wishing I could hide in my room for awhile. Then, into the midst of my unhappiness burst two unexpected and wonderful times of grace.

Saturday morning when I checked my email there was a message from a dear lady. Occasionally I have had the experience of feeling called to be praying something specific for someone without knowing why. I have learned over and over to heed the prompting even though I don’t understand. Often it has turned out that the Lord, in His love is calling me to something that person deeply needs prayer for. So much grace, that. To my knowledge I've never been on the other side of the equation before (the pray-ee instead of the pray-er if you will). Saturday’s email was changed that and it was a beautiful, hopeful, tender time.

                Then, wonderfully, yesterday afternoon happened. One of my very favorite people from my time in Ti Goave called. She was coming to Grand Goave to pick up something for her brother in law and did I have time to see her? Yes! Definitely yes! I caught a ride into the mission and we spent a sweet time talking and laughing. Laughing is very possibly the thing we do best together and how wonderful a friendship is that?  We walked part way up a mountain to meet up with her brother in law, laughing and sweating. Well, in the end we were mostly sweating. Time with this woman, catching up on her life and on her family left my heart brimming with joy.

                These moments left me with a renewed awe at the tenderness of the God I serve meeting me in my weakness and lifting me up. I don’t take these things lightly or for granted. Praise to You O Christ!

Best possible way to start my day!

       School officially started in Haiti last week. This means that every morning when I get to the mission for clinic there are clusters of adorable children in uniform. This morning when we got there the preschoolers and their teachers were out in the yard singing and dancing (or in the case of the littlest ones, standing and looking around). It was probably definitely the cutest possible way to start the morning. I got to stay and hang out with them for a few minutes before I opened the clinic, which meant clapping, hugs around the waist and little hands slipped into mine.

I tried to get video of the kids and their teachers singing and dancing, but my not so tech savvy self couldn't remember how to make the camera work, so I have to be content with pictures.

The ones on the fringe of the group were not too sure what to think about the whole thing. Or, in the case of the little girl on the right, were very sure they did not like it. Going to preschool is very hard work!

So precious!

     

My boys

We have a couple of brothers who hang around our mission and guesthouse. Their mom died and they are not sure who their father is, so they are effectively orphans. Too street smart for an orphanage, they are sponsored through Mission of Hope. Now, anyone who knows me knows that one of the defining traits of my personality is my ridiculous need to mother everyone around me all the time. These boys are no exception. I (predictably) have fallen hard for them and time spent with them is consistently a highlight of my day.

Dieury, the older brother has this profound pride in his country and his culture that makes a fierce joy swell in my heart. It is rare that I come across people who want to tell me about Haiti’s strengths, but Dieury does. He loves Haitian food and music and takes great pleasure in telling me about them. He is also currently my Kreyol tutor. Since he is the most honest person here when it comes to correcting my pronunciation and sentence structure, it is a perfect set up. Dieunison is the younger brother and one of the most charming (and manipulative) kids I have ever met. He has moments of absolutely disarming sweetness that melt me into a puddle, like when he came into my clinic this week to do his homework, sounding out the words as he worked his way through the assignment. He also has moments that make those around him want to pull out our hair in frustration, like when he spent an afternoon in time out after wreaking havoc on the workspace of the women who were cooking.

Loving these boys means lectures about hygiene habits and regular reminders that you have to bathe every day. With soap.  It means affirming how handsome they look in their school uniforms, straightening collars and making them pose for pictures they (pretend to) hate. It means consequences for misbehavior and barefoot soccer until the sun goes down. It means hide and seek and gifts of almonds and laughing until tears streak down my face. It means a concrete reason to hope for the future of this country I love so deeply.

                 

Fritzon Update

                One of my biggest challenges for this time in Haiti has been treating Fritzon, the young man with the leg wounds. I think I have mentioned before that it often feels like we take three steps forward, only to fall two steps back. Actually sometimes it feels more like two steps forward, three steps back. Last week was like that. Up until then, things were going really well, the wounds were healing, decreasing in size and depth. What more could a nurse want? Then, over the course of last week the wound in his right ankle got considerably worse. Now it is nearly twice as deep as it was and the infection is back with a vengeance. His face when he realized that things were getting worse again was a low point in a week full of disappointments.

At this point I think all of the options at our clinic have been exhausted. He has been on every antibiotic we have and most of our specialized wound dressings. His pain has also greatly increased. He is on pain medicine twice a day and it helps, but not enough. Friends, we are looking into other available options (and there are still a couple), but prayers would be greatly appreciated. Will you join me in petitioning the Lord for wisdom, discernment and direction on my end, but equally as important, for encouragement for Fritzon, for reasons for him to hope? Prayers for healing would also be welcome! As always, thank you so much for joining with me in this.

Bwe dlo

                Probably the most common thing I tell my patients in clinic and the people I talk to outside of clinic is to drink more water. It is a standard part of almost any teaching I do whether they have arthritis pain, headaches or a cold. The kids I hang out with every day know to tell me how much water they drank before they ever ask me for anything. It has become a running joke between us.

                Recently it seems like every person I come across, inside or outside of clinic has had a cold. Of course, I have been telling all of them to drink more water. It was only a matter of time before I caught a cold, too and it is now my turn. The boys I see every day (ranging in age from 8-14) are taking great delight in telling me to drink water. Every time I see them. I had that conversation with them twice in the time it has taken me to type these two paragraphs. I may be the most hydrated girl in Haiti right now.

TB Treatment

“Tuberculosis (TB) has been curable for more than 50 years, yet the global burden of morbidity and mortality due to TB continues to increase, the impact being greatest in sub-Saharan Africa. Approximately one-third of the world’s population is infected with Mycobacterium tuberculosis, with nearly 9 million developing active TB and almost 2 million dying of TB each year… Both globally and within countries, there is a striking link between TB and poverty.”

                I came across this quote yesterday. In so many ways it exemplifies why I am passionate about justice in healthcare. “9 million” is a staggering statistic, impossible to really wrap our brains around. Then I think about the people in my clinic every day. The older gentleman with the weight loss and chronic cough who I have to refer to the hospital for further testing, wishing I had the resources he needs; or the bony boy at our island mobile clinic, with dad who cares but whose treatment options are limited. When I see them as people more than numbers, no less made in the image of God than I am,  everything in me yearns to see these people receive the care they deserve.

(quote courtesy of Oxford Handbook of Tropical Medicine, 3^rd Edition.)

Clinic Update

                I realized that I have not written a clinic update in quite a while, so I wanted to take the opportunity share some of the adventures that have been a part of my days here. For three weeks in a row we had various other American medical personnel working with me. That was a fantastic learning opportunity for me, as well as a chance to alleviate some of the anxiety I feel when all of the clinic responsibility falls on me.

                In August I told you all about Fritzon, the young man with the chronic leg ulcers. Working with him usually feels like three steps forward, two large steps back. We decided to hold off on surgery and are continuing to try some options with different wound dressings. I am thrilled to report that the wounds in both legs have decreased dramatically in size and depth in the last month. I am not thrilled to report that in the last ten days his infection has resumed doing everything in its power to make a major comeback. We are taking steps to fight it, but it is discouraging for all involved.

                Another little one that has been on my heart is a twelve month old girl named Chelda. I first met Chelda and her mama on August 13^th. I was concerned about her weight, lack of appetite and developmental delays. Chelda’s mama brought her back in for regular check-ups and nutrition supplementation.  The baby developed regular diarrhea and continued to lose weight and refuse most food. Our medicines were not helping. Concerned, I was put in contact with a malnutrition treatment program located in the next town over and eventually ended up referring Chelda and her mama to another program where she is receiving intensive nutrition supplementation. I still have them coming into my clinic weekly for check-ups. I am thrilled to report that Chelda has begun gaining a little weight and now has the strength and energy to scream at the sight of me. I will take what I can get.

                Some days, I do not have many patients in the clinic. I try to take those opportunities to learn anything and everything that I can. One of the skills I most want to develop is suturing. We had a couple of teaching sessions when the physicians were down, but I felt nowhere near ready to actually suture a person. One of the physicians pointed out all of the information on the internet, so I have spent some time watching “how to suture” videos on YouTube. Here are the results of my first practice session, with a glove:

                Daily, I am learning so much about how to be a better nurse, how to better navigate this culture and ways to live well here. As a part of that, will you join with me in prayer for Fritzon and for Chelda and for all of my other patients, that they would receive the treatment they need and deserve, that my nursing practice here would be conducted with wisdom, discernment and most of all love? Thank you.

Words

                I love words. This pretty much sums up my feelings on the subject (geeky side note- how amazing is that website?!). I have shared about the frustration and confusion of learning a new language, but something I am coming to appreciate is the joy of learning all these new words. As I become (slightly) more comfortable with the language, my ears find new things to rejoice in. Rele (literally: call) is a musical word when it comes out of the mouth of a native Kreyol speaker. A shout of “pa gen moun?” (is anyone there), makes me smile every time.  Actually, even typing those words makes me smile. Manje. Kouto. Kiye. Chante. Machin. I roll these words around on my tongue, tasting them, trying and trying again to form them correctly, with the respect they deserve.

                I think the impetus for noticing these things comes from the same place as my post last week sharing the beauty of Bassin Bleu. So many things about this land bruise my heart every day. Taking the time to savor the joy and beauty that are also here, taking the time to remember to see them, keeps me hoping when things are dark. I find that that too is grace.

(Thank you Google Translate for helping  me with spelling!)

                

Adventures!

 Yesterday we also traveled hiked to an area called Bassin Bleu to celebrate a birthday. I always love the Haitian sense of how far a place is, compared to the American sense. As far as I can tell, it is never actually "jut a few minutes." Although longer than expected, I really cannot complain about the hike, since it looked like this...

As a girl who drinks in beauty to feed my soul, I could not have asked for a more perfect day.

Towards the end of the hike we climbed down some rocks using footholds and a rope. I also jumped off a forty foot cliff. So basically I faced almost all my fears one after the other.

 

At the end we swam in this pool. I could not get a picture, since my camera is not waterproof, but there is another waterfall past the rocks. So much beauty. So much grace.

The view of Jacmel from the car on the way back down.

And finally, the view on the way home. A spectacular finish to our trip!

Interwoven

"Unless the work is interwoven with love, it is useless."

Mother Theresa

               

When I was in the states, I was gifted a book of Mother Theresa quotes (thanks Karen!). I have been reading a passage from the book every day, and for lack of a better word, it is wrecking me. I am captivated by her words and how she wrote about people. She recognized the value in every human life; she saw that poverty of spirit is just as debilitating as any other kind of poverty. Then she did something about it. I so ant to imitate her in that.

 Consequently, I have been thinking about and praying over what it would look like for my daily life to be interwoven with love. I love the picture that comes to my mind when I hear the word interwoven, the idea of love wrapping everything I do. The idea of love shrouding all I do and say, my interactions with people and the words I choose. 

So, what would that look like? I think it looks like warm greetings for the smooth-talking orphan boys who hang out in our yard every day, or always having a moment to chat with the little boys whose father just beat their mother. Maybe it means listening to my elderly patient repeat their aches and pains three or five times in the course of our conversation. I am pretty sure it means choosing words of grace when I am hot and tired and tired of people. It means making opportunities to tell the little girl who needs it that she matters to me and doing everything I can to hear people, instead of anxiously awaiting my chance to talk. It means looking at the people I pass and consciously seeing them as people Christ died for. It's a process.

                

Justice

                I have wanted to live overseas since I was eight years old. I did not go to nursing school because of any particular dream to be a nurse. I do not find the work glamorous, or necessarily all that fulfilling. What I care about, the reason I held on through nursing school and two years of med/surg nursing was this overwhelming sense that where you are born should not determine whether or not you get the healthcare you need.

                As I traveled back and forth to Haiti in college, and contrasted what I saw (or did not see) for healthcare here, with what I experienced in nursing school something rose up in me. I do not think it is just that I felt bad for the people. It was more that as I came to realize that a woman really can bleed to death, that children really do dehydrate, that a six week old baby can suffer from whooping cough only because they happened to be born and live in a place where healthcare is not accessible, everything in me cried out that something was wrong. No, more than wrong, something was deeply broken. I could not abide the fact that you can miss out on even the most basic healthcare because of where you live.

                In part, it is this crushing sense of wrongness that fuels my passion in this country. Don’t get me wrong, I love these people, I love the vibrancy with which life is conducted here. However on those days when culture shock overwhelms, when everyone and everything about this place is overwhelmingly alien, I am held fast, in part, be my desire to see justice in healthcare for the people around me.

                All of that to say, in the past couple weeks I have been given the chance to be a part of mobile clinics in two remote areas. Last week we did two days of clinic up in the mountains at a church affiliated with the mission. Wednesday we traveled to the island of La Gonave off the coast of Haiti and did a short clinic in a village there. We had some difficulties getting back, which may or may not be the subject of another blog post, but I was so grateful to be a part of what was going on.

                My heart burns to see the people I met in those clinics receive high-quality, regular healthcare. Mamas should not have to sit by and watch their babies suffer from coughs and infections with no recourse, constrained by money or distance. Little girls with malaria should not boil in their fevers because there is no Tylenol. Men with hernias should not be left to suffer just because they cannot afford the operation they need.

               Friends, will you join me in praying for justice in healthcare for this beautiful country? Sometimes, when I pray for things like that it feels too big, too audacious and impossible a thing to ask for from the Lord. Except, as I keep reminding myself, He conquered death, so He can probably take this too. Will you partner with me in prayer to see that happen?

Fritzon Update

    Last week I wrote about Fritzon, our 24 year old patient with the chronic leg ulcers. We were in the processing of trying to set up surgery for him, on the recommendation of a doctor in Port Au Prince. This week, I worked with an American doctor in the clinic, and consulted with a couple of other American doctors who are familiar with the situation. After talking with them, and running some test results through Google translate we have come to the decision that surgery is not necessary at this time.
   For now, we are proceeding with daily dressing changes, and pressure bandages to decrease the swelling in his lower legs. Please be in prayer for Fritzon as we are almost literally pouring salt on open wounds to get rid of the infected tissue. Yes, it as painful as it sounds. Also, please join with me in prayer for wisdom and discernment with this man, so that he can get the care he needs. Thank you.

Language Learning with Leah

     Sometimes, to my chagrin I can start to get a little cocky in the language learning department.  It can be tempting to think that I know something, since I have learned so much since January. This is completely ridiculous, as I am reminded every time I blank out on the Kreyol word for something, or butcher the grammar in the middle of a sentence. Pretty much every time I start thinking that I get a pointed reminder of how much I have yet to learn.
     Yesterday was one of those times. Lack of sleep Monday night made my brain a little fuzzy and by the afternoon my language skills were limping along. I was in the middle of clinic and I had a patient with  abdominal pain. Since I try to be a good nurse, I asked her to climb up on the examining table and lay down so I could assess her. At least, I thought I asked her to climb up on the examining table and lay down. She gave me a puzzled look and I repeated my request, assuming my accent was too thick to be understood. We went back and forth a couple of times and finally she did what I asked. She climbed up on the table and stood there looking at me. Completely flustered, I called someone in to translate for me since I no longer had a handle on the situation. Apparently I had been using the word for stand, not sit all along.
   That, friends, is why I have no business being cocky about my language skills.

Surgery Updates

     I am delighted to report Wodnoson's surgery went well yesterday. He is scheduled to come home today, with a follow-up appointment on Monday in PAP. Please keep praying for his continued healing and recovery. (Side note: that little boy has absolutely melted my heart. If you know me, you know I say this all the time, but he really is the sweetest, most adorable child!)
    In other news, we took the next steps towards getting our other patient, Fritzon the medical care he needs yesterday. He is 24 years old and has been suffering form chronic leg ulcers for the last four years. He has sickle cell anemia, which means the circulation in his legs is very poor, which is part of why they have not healed. Fritzon needs surgery to improve the circulation in his legs, so that his ulcers can heal. After talking with the surgeon and the hospital, it looks like his surgery is going to cost around $600 US. I have never done this before, but I am asking for donations towards the cost of his surgery. Donation information can be found here. You can donate either online or by mailing in a check. Please mark surgery costs in the memo line. To be perfectly honest it feels a little weird asking for money to support something I care about, but it matters that this man get the medical care he needs. Thanks friends!

PAP update

   Our four year old patient who needs surgery should be heading into PAP this afternoon. He is scheduled to spend two nights in the hospital, assuming all goes well. Please keep Wodnoson, and his his mama Marie-Therese in your prayers. Chances of complications are greater since he is so young.
   I will be going into PAP tomorrow to pursue further testing for our patient with the leg ulcers. Join me in praying we get to PAP safely and on time to see the doctor, and that the doctor is actually there?

Thanks friends!

In which I learn a little more about healthcare in this country

(Disclaimer 1: I wrote this on Friday and meant to edit and post it Saturday, but then I lost the device that gives me internet access and did not replace it until today. So, some of my time descriptions may sound a little off. Sorry!)             

 (Disclaimer 2: This post is super long! Not sorry.)

    

        I made three trips in and out of Port Au Prince in the last week. Our clinic has two patients who need a higher level of care than we can provide and I have been accompanying them to PAP to help them get the care they need. One patient is a four year old boy with congenital glaucoma who needs surgery to keep from losing his vision completely. We are in the process of getting him set up for surgery and an overnight stay at a PAP hospital Wednesday. The other patient is a 24 year old man who has had chronic leg ulcers for four years. The nurse I am filling in for has been treating him since January, working to get the wounds to close. He has been seen by multiple doctors, been on antibiotics and just about every wound care protocol you can think of.

       I want to describe for you all what it felt like to me getting these patients the beginning of the medical care they needed last week. Our journey starts at 6 am when we leave Grand Goave. We arrive in Port Au Prince around 8 am and get in line to be seen. A large part of getting medical care here is waiting in line. So, when we get to the hospital where we need to be seen, we sit and sit, waiting for our names to be called so that we can get in line for the cashier. Around 11 they call our name to be seen by the cashier.  After the (hour long) line for the cashier, we wait for our names to be called to be seen by the general medical doctors. The general clinic doctor sees us and recognizes that we already have a referral for a specialist. So we get in line to see the specialist. That doctor sees us, but then he wants us to be seen by a colleague. The colleague has a private practice. I exchange numbers with the hospital doctor. We are told to rush to the private doctor because the surgeon is making time in his schedule to see us today. We get directions and rush to his office. After a few wrong turns we get to the surgeon’s office. His (apparent) receptionist says he is gone for the day. We say we were told he was coming, so she lets us wait. She leaves for the day. We call the surgeon (per instructions) to let him know we have arrived. No answer. So we send a text message. We wait an hour. Call again. No response.

      In the meantime I am missing getting directions from the anesthesiologist about my other patient’s upcoming surgery. I call the referring doctor from the hospital. No answer.  We wait another 45 minutes. (Sometime during this process I realize the waiting area has a working bathroom. I am overjoyed.) We call the doctor again. Still no answer. It is now after 3:00 in the afternoon and I am getting nervous that I am going to miss the administration people I need to talk to for my other patient, so we decide to head back to the hospital.

      On the ride back to the hospital the referring doctor calls me back. I tell him the story. He says he is going to call the surgeon and call me back. Okay. We get back to the hospital. The older brother of the boy getting surgery is waiting outside and tells us that his mother and brother went in the building to talk with a doctor, but he does not know where. So we wait some more. I get awkwardly hit on. No thank you. The hospital doctor calls me back and tells me the surgeon is in surgery right now; we can talk to him when he finishes in an hour, but we need to call him. We call. No answer. I call the hospital doctor back and let him know. He says he is going to call his friend again. In the meantime the little boy and his mama come out of their consultation. It is now almost 5:00. We go to talk to administration to get prices for surgery and the hospital stay the boy needs. Everything has to be paid for before surgery. The hospital doctor calls me to tell me to call the surgeon right now about when we are going to see him. We call and decide that since he is not out of surgery yet, and it is so late in the day, we will come back in the morning. So we head off back to Grand Goave.

      The next morning we go back to PAP. We wait for an hour to see the surgeon. He evaluates the patient and decides the patient needs to have a test for the circulation of his legs. We get the prescription for the test and directions to THAT doctor’s office. After some more wrong turns we get to the doctor’s office. He’s not in today. Any other day, so long as we get there by 7 am. Just not today. So we go back to Grand Goave.

       My heart in telling this story is not to complain about the waiting or frustration. I have no right to complain about anything here. My goal is to begin to illustrate the layers and layers of healthcare challenges people face in this country. I have been able to face these obstacles because I have access to money and a vehicle and a medical background. The average Haitian, and most of the friends that I have made here, do not. I cannot imagine trying to get care without these things. Often, it is not possible. Will you join me in praying for my patients and their medical needs? That Wednesday’s surgery would happen without complications and that the other young man would get the care he needs? On a deeper level will you join me in praying for the healing of the healthcare infrastructure of this country, that people would get what they need, when they need it? Thank you.   

First Day!

    I arrived back in Haiti early Saturday morning and spent much of the afternoon familiarizing myself with the clinic and where things are in it. Pessimistic med/surg nurse that I am I immediately located the emergency equipment. You know, just in case. Today was my first clinic day and I am happy to report no one needed it!

   Seriously though, it was and is such a joy to be back in this country. I love being with these people, stumbling over my Kreyol and learning SO much from those around me. (On the medical side of things thank God and the nurse who usually runs this clinic for reference books and guides in med prescription and treatment!)

  I should be going into Port Au Prince tomorrow to follow up on treatment for a little boy with glaucoma and a young man with chronic leg ulcers. Will you join me in praying for them, for our travels and that they would get the care they need and deserve?

  I only have a few minutes for internet access, so I just wanted to give a quick update. I’m hoping to write a longer one later this week. Thank you all for your support and prayers. They are vital

Perspectives

   For another perspective on my next steps in Haiti, check out this post from the Mission of Hope blog. I am so excited for this new adventure, beginning in just a few days!

Ch-ch-ch-changes (see what I did there)

  I am so excited to report I will be flying back into Haiti August 3rd. I will be moving to a town called Grand Goave, a short drive from where I used to live. I will be working with Mission of Hope International, in their clinic.
  Although I have been savoring my time in the States with family in friends, I miss Haiti every day and am delighted to be going back so soon. Join with me in prayers of gratitude and preparation as I get ready for this next step? Thanks!

On the Road Again

   Well, my bags are (sort of) packed and I head out of Haiti tomorrow afternoon. Prayers for safe travels and all of my emotions to be in check are welcomed and appreciated.

Moments of Grace

    Life is hard here. Really hard. All the time. My heart is usually (always) aching over something going on. In the midst of the stresses of being always surrounded by people, of straining to understand what is being said around me and of attempting to love well, I have been learning to soak in moments of grace as they are dispensed. I need to consciously remember that even here, life is full of grace and that when I seek it out, I will see it.

   Yesterday was particularly full of those moments.  A team member playing guitar and singing on the front porch, one of our boys grinning huge as he plays the bongos, because he always grins huge when music is involved. The Holy Spirit is almost tangibly present in that moment. Watermelon juice dripping down my chin in the neighborhood we visited, a gift from the people whose house we were at. My favorite Haitian food and drink in one meal and the knowing smiles from the girls who made it when they saw my face. A bracelet made for me by one of the girls who comes to our house. Laughing with the same girl as we ride down the highway in the bed of a pick-up in the rain. A tiny boy curled up on my lap, head on my shoulder and his thumb in his mouth.

    Today held a stark reminder of how difficult life is here, how much suffering goes on all around me. These moments of grace give me something to cling to when hope threatens to be overwhelmed.

Headed to the States

   I will be headed back into the States for a bit in July. I'm not exactly sure right now how long my visit will be, or what comes next in my life. This gives me lots of feelings. Prayers are appreciated as always.
  That being said, if you are going to be in Florida in July, chances are I would love to see you. Let me know if you feel the same and we can try to make it happen. :)

Sunburned Blan

   One of the things I have a love/hate relationship with about the house I live in and the kids I know is their capacity for noting and discussing physical differences. The kids frequently examine my skin, head, hair, arms, and legs for things that are remarkable to them. Then they comment on them. Freckles, dandruff, the mole on my left arm, all have been catalogued and discussed by the kids in minute detail. The upside of this is that is has freed me to ask more questions than I might have otherwise, for fear of being accidentally offensive.

   Last week we went up in the mountains past Miragoane, the next town down the highway from us. The view was spectacular and this Florida girl absolutely savored a day in the sunshine, riding in the back of a truck. Until I got home and saw my sunburned skin. I tried to be conscientious about sunscreen application, but apparently I did not try hard enough. So, this whole Leah-is-sunburned thing has been a source of fascination for the kids here, who have been monitoring it since it happened.

   On Friday night we all looked at my red forehead and arms, and in my broken Kreyol I told them I had been burned by the sun. We talked about whether it hurts (yes) and how it is not good. The next stage in sunburns is of course the peeling, which started this morning. We have a couple younger girls at the house right now, who were seriously freaked out when they saw it. One girl in particular made horrified faces when she noticed my forehead,  and it has been priceless to try to talk to them about the sun and the burn I had and how this is part of the healing.

  I love this opportunity to talk freely about these things, to learn about each other’s races, and to laugh together. My prayer is that this experience is part of the building blocks that lead us into relationship with each other, recognizing and celebrating our differences, even when they are as casual as a sunburn.

Living in love

“Turn around and believe that the good news that we are loved is better than we ever dared hope, and that to believe in that good news, to live out of it and toward it, to be in love with that good news, is of all glad things in this world the gladdest thing of all. Amen, and come Lord Jesus.”

-Frederick Buechner

     I have been sitting in this quote and in Romans 8 this week, remembering the bigger reasons I am in Haiti. Lately I have been wrestling with culture shock and questions about the next steps for my life, feeling discouraged and wondering if my time here has been more of a waste than I care to admit, even to myself. Many (maybe most) days have felt more like a struggle to get through. The ever present language barrier and the many, many, many ways that this culture is foreign to how I think have had me questioning if I can ever learn enough to be a blessing in this country.

   Earlier this week I was given the grace of spending a few days with friends who are rapidly becoming dear to me. (Cheese and air conditioning were included!) In the course of my conversations with them, and after reading some quotes from Mother Theresa, I was reminded again of the importance of living in love. Those words sound and feel so cliché typed out, but I cannot think of another way to describe what has been happening in my heart.

  One of the many beautiful things about Romans 8 is Paul’s discourse on how nothing in all Creation can separate us from the love of Christ. In the course of conversation this week I was gently reminded of my own need to live out of that truth and in that security. Even when all I can see are my own failures and shortcomings, when I am entirely insufficient for and overwhelmed by the need in front of me, I am loved. While, this is not an excuse not to keep giving all I can, it is a balm to my heart on the days when I question everything I am doing.

   There is another side to what I have been relearning this week. If I want to imitate Christ (and I do), loving others is the most important thing I can do. Even when I don’t have anything for their hypertension, or their diabetes and no idea how to help them get what they need. Even when all I want to do is throw up my hands and hide in my room because I understand nothing that is going on around me, I can still love. I can love in the middle of a pressing crowd, when one little boy puts his arms around my waist and rests his head on my stomach. I can love the little girl who walked all the way down the beach with me, but who is too shy to actually sit with me. I can love the woman fighting chronic pain from a lifetime wrestling for daily bread. I can love.

   Friends, will you join me in loving by continuing to pray for me and these people I care about? Amen, and come Lord Jesus.

Sorry!

 To anyone who's interested, I apologize for the lack of posts about what I am actually doing lately.  I keep starting posts talking about what's going on, and I look something like this.

Then, I read over what I have written, and it is so trite and cliche and awful that I absolutely cannot bear to put my name on it and release it to the internet. I feel a lot like this.

 

We have had some precious days and beautiful experiences in the last week (including Communion on Sunday!), which have left me feeling like this.  

My goal is to update you all in clear and beautiful prose soon.
(Thank you Betsaida for supplying me with hysterical pictures and much entertainment this afternoon.)
 

Quick Prayer Request

    Life is inherently unstable in this country. Plans change frequently. Flexibility is vital. All of that being said, what the second half of this year is going to look like for me has recently become a giant question mark. Since it is already June, I am a little stressed. Will you take a minute to pray for me as I make decisions in the next few days? Thanks friends.

Cherline and Fredline

     Our summer short term teams have started. We have back to back groups here into July. With the teams here, we are busier than normal, visiting two or more places a day, and inviting extra kids to our house. So far, it is a happy chaos.

    Yesterday was Mother’s Day here in Haiti, and to celebrate I want to tell you about a conversation I had with a mama  in the neighborhood we visited this afternoon. (As always, I apologize, as you can be pretty sure my spelling of the names is totally off.) I met her daughter, Fredline, first when she came up to meet me. I found out later that Fredline is only three, so her coming up to me was significant. Most kids her age here are scared of white people. Fredline and I had a lovely time playing with her packet of crackers and sharing a coconut.

   Later, at the house we visited, I met Fredline’s mama. When Cherline came back for her daughter, we chatted a little about her life. Fredline is Cherline’s only child. She had two others, but they have died. Fredline’s father is alive, although I do not know that he is in the picture. We talked about whether I have children or a boyfriend yet, and about how old I am.

  These may sound like small things to have discussed, and on the surface maybe they are. I was partially excited that I was even able to have a conversation with Cherline in Kreyol, and she understood me without a translator. My prayer is that these kids of conversations are the beginning of forming relationships. I hope that as I learn to ask questions about their lives, people will see that I care, that I want to listen and that we can begin to be friends. Will you join me in continuing to pray for true relationships with the people I meet here, that we would learn to listen and hear one another and that God would be glorified in that? Thank you.

Cooking

   One of the things I have been doing is helping with the cooking at our house. Well, I hope I have been helping. I have definitely been learning. I thrive on quality time with people, which is hard when I can hardly talk to them. Cooking with the girls who live here has become an opportunity to be with these girls, to learn from them and to laugh with them.

   The longer I am here, the more dear these girls become to me. I have specific prayers and hopes for both of them. Spending time with them in the kitchen grants me the opportunity to begin seeing them individually. It acquaints me with their tastes and preferences. I learn who prefers plantains to rice, who prefers fried chicken, who likes Bob Marley, and what the Haitian president sounded like when he was a music star. It also gives me the chance to learn and practice my Kreyol with those whose ears are full of grace and patience.

    It probably will not surprise you all to hear that I have been reading and praying about intercultural relationships, especially between people with very different levels of material wealth and power. All relationships take time, grace, forgiveness, laughter. These kinds of relationships seem to need them more than others. When I cook with these girls, I hope and pray that this is what is happening. I hope that as we spend time together, as we laugh, and especially as they teach me, we can edge towards some of the healing that this country needs, that perhaps my poverty and theirs can decrease.

    Friends, will you join me in praying for the girls here, for their individual needs and struggles and for them to grow in love for the Lord. Will you also join me in praying for my relationships with them, that grace, humor and forgiveness would be the foundations of these relationships, that I would listen to them and that through us God would be glorified. Thank you.

  

   

Deciphering Missions

I stumbled across this post last week from one of my favorite bloggers, and loved it so much. I would highly recommend it as to anyone who supports missionaries. Ask questions, ask me these questions. They matter.

The view from our house

This was the view from our house last night, yet more evidence my life is filled with grace.

I would apologize for the power lines running through every pic, but they are a grace too, since they mean I have a working fan (almost) every night.

See the ocean? This Florida girl loves living by the water!

Do no harm

    The Hippocratic Oath has doctors promising to first do no harm. Those words have been one of my heart’s cries since I decided to move here. I heard and hear story after story, statistic upon statistic detailing the ways well-meaning missionaries and aid and development organizations and other countries’ policies have contributed to the mess Haiti is in today. While I am so far from qualified to comment on most of those issues, I believe the complaints and concerns are valid. It is one of my biggest fears that I will only contribute to the problem. Occasionally I wonder how I could not, since it can look like almost every attempt to help ends up harming this people and this country.

     Thanks to my general love of learning (read: nerdiness) I have been reading books and articles and websites on poverty relief and development and missions done well. The experts talk about not giving things out for free when it’s not an emergency situation, how that’s a way of reinforcing dependency and taking opportunities from the community to support their own. I believe they are correct. They know a lot more about these things than I do, but here’s the thing. None of them are medical. When they run the risk of communities and neighbors not stepping up the consequences do not feel as dire.  

    So, once again, I sit in my questions. There is a little boy who is two or three or four years old depending on who you ask, whose mama has died and who appears to be pretty malnourished. Do I get involved? There are no malnutrition centers nearby that I know of and I have not been trained in proper malnutrition treatment, nor do I have any relationship in place with his family. Do I just leave it then, and hope he does not come down with an infection? Or do I take responsibility for intervening and the many unforeseeable consequences? Then there is the boy with asthma who talks to me about his asthmatic episodes and missing school because of them. His family appears better off than many others in the neighborhood and they know he is sick but have not to my knowledge taken him to the doctor. So, do I step in? If I do, what am I communicating about their parenting and decision-making? If I do not step in, how do I look him in the eye when he talks about his experiences? Compounding all of this is my overwhelming awareness of how much I do not know about these families and this culture and loving well within it.

   So, I pray that God’s kingdom would come and His will be done on earth as in heaven. And I pray for mercy and grace, so much grace. I ache for the brokenness in this place and in my own heart. I ache for the ways I contribute to their poverty and my own and I pray some more. Friends, will you join me in these prayers for wisdom and discernment, for little boys with empty bellies and broken lungs and for God’s kingdom come? 

More Pics from Wancheez

    So, I am trying to take more pictures of life down here. Letting you all see the kids and things I care about would go a long way towards sharing the stories that are so important to me. We were back in Ofisye this afternoon and the kids asked for pictures. I took some, but I let Wancheez get the majority since it seemed to work last time. Here is a sample of what we got.

Tracie

Moseline is not lacking in personality.

Marie Junie

Shaggy, with Ismail in the background

Rachelle was not in a good mood this afternoon.

This is when I gave Wancheez the camera.

We like posing. Also, Betsaida that so many of you have prayed for is the one giving the thumbs up.

Twins! Valencia (on the right) and Evancia. 

Wancheez and I.

The view from the beach. Seriously.

Grace for today

    I don’t remember if I mentioned it, but for the last few weeks I have been the only American in our house. Ed has been in the States and I have been managing more on my own than I have before. This has been one of those things that I  think I will look back on as having been a wise decision, but in the moment it is hard. I have never lived in a situation where there is no one to talk to, because I can’t talk to them, or where I am in any way responsible for teenagers. Both of those things are a large part of my life right now.  

     I am also right in the middle of what I what I am thinking of as the calm before the storm. Starting the end of this month we will have back to back teams for something like six weeks straight. Maybe longer. I have lost track at this point. Things will be busy and crazy and hot, so I am taking the time to enjoy this period where things are just hot.

    There are so many moments to savor in this new life I have been given. Learning to cook Haitian food and laughing with the girls who live here over how I get food on my clothes. Every. Single. Time.  Or how I am too short to see what’s cooking on the stove without a stool. The little tiny girl who is not afraid to climb up in my arms and the mama who loves her.   My favorite cherries, a gift from that same mama.  Bandaging wounds while five kids look over my shoulder and hang on my arm. Having simple conversations in Kreyol and following them (I think). The boy who comes to our house almost every day and the kindness with which he treats his little sister. Sitting on the floor of the girls’ room talking about what we are going to wear tomorrow. I wouldn't trade these moments for anything. They fill my heart.

    I look forward to when Ed gets back and I am no longer the only American here, to easily understood conversations and not being in charge of teenagers in any significant, but in my anticipation for that time I pray I don’t miss the grace that is in front of me.

Ofisye

      Yesterday we went to one of my very favorite places, a neighborhood I have visited off and on since my first trip to Haiti almost twelve years ago. This is the neighborhood I always hoped we would go to when visiting Haiti on college spring breaks and it is one of two places that began to solidify for me the hope of one day making a life in this country, meeting healthcare needs.

   Visiting in Ofisye is so many things. It is the familiar heartache of learning about another mama-less little girl. It is mango-sticky fingers slipped in mine and “Blan!” shouted down the beach. It is pebbles in my shoes as I jump streams, stubbornly insisting I can do it. It is blood pressure checks on dear older adults and desperate prayers for wisdom when those numbers read too high. It is ibuprofen when a tooth really needs to be pulled. It is pulling sticks out of feet, for once grateful for tough skin, while hoping infection does not set in. It is gifts of mangoes and hands running through my hair. It is words and questions repeated because I don’t understand the first time. It is laughter all around when I sing children’s songs. It is falling on my butt because we thought it would be a good idea to let one of the girls carry me piggyback down the path. It is tiny twins jumping around, laughing one minute and angrily throwing sand at each other the next. It is little ones in my lap, held tight, with prayers whispered over them.  It is the tension between wanting to health care needs met and being terrified of reinforcing dependency. It is beautiful and precious and hard.

    Friends, will you join with me in prayers for Ofisye. Pray for Wancheez who got the stick in her foot yesterday, and that she heals without infection setting in. Pray for justice for these people, that physical and spiritual needs would be answered in ways that do not steal their dignity. Pray for me as I learn to navigate these relationships. Thank you.

Pride and Mangoes

                Delightfully, it is mango season around here. Mangoes of many kinds are everywhere and it is wonderful. I have been watching the fruit on the tree in our backyard grow since I got here in January, so I was pretty excited when they started ripening enough for us to eat them. They have been every bit as delicious as I was anticipating, although I have yet to eat one without getting at least some of it on my clothes. We joke that I eat mangoes like a baby. People in the neighborhoods we visit have been giving us bags and bags of mangoes as well. There is something humbling about receiving a bag of mangoes so heavy it takes two people to carry it from someone who, to my American thinking has so little.

I heard a number of negative opinions of the Haitian people when I was getting ready to come down here. Some perceptions came from the media, some from people who have only been down here long enough not to realize how much they do not know about this culture. I am not so naïve as to say something ridiculous like “all Haitians are generous and giving” or some such nonsense. I have no right to characterize all Haitian people as anything (other than Haitian). At the same time I want you all to see how the people I am coming to know, who I hope to be truly friends with one day, can be generous and giving, can share what they have with others.

                I am chastened a bit every time we are handed another bag of fruit from our friends. I catch myself falling into the trap of characterizing poverty as a physical lack, of thinking that the want of material things I see around me means that the people here have less to give me than I to give them. And I know better. I KNOW better. The people I am getting to know take resilience to a level I cannot fathom. Without making them seem overly simple, they know how to smile and survive in a way that I simply do not. Every time they share their mangoes, or coconuts or their homes with me a bit of my pride and sinful thinking can be chipped away, as I seek to appreciate what they can give in this relationship.

                So, will you join me in prayers of gratitude for mangoes? I’m kidding. Sort of. Seriously though, will you join me in praying against my own pride getting in the way of relationships with the people I am getting to know, and for blessings over them as they seek to give to us? Thank you.

Language Learning

   I spent the first twenty-five years of my life taking for granted the ability to just chat with the people around me. It was not as though my introverted self walked around striking up conversations with strangers, but I could have. If I wanted to. In this new life of mine almost every conversation is a mental effort. Day in and day out I wrestle to understand what’s being said around me, confused over meaning, sentence structure, pronunciation. On Friday I tried to ask one of the girls who lives here if her sore throat had improved. What I actually said, while stroking my neck, was “is your cup better?” Thankfully her father understood the context clues and answered my actual question (after a few surprised looks).

  I have learned a lot since January, but I think the thing about living in another country, another culture is that the more you learn, the more you realize how much you don’t know. Does that make sense? Before I came down here I thought I knew in the abstract how important language learning would be. I saw it as one of my first tasks, after all how can I love well people I cannot talk to? Now that I am here, the need to talk, to communicate, is both tangible and acute.

   The people I live with are so wonderful to me as I learn. Their grace as I string together grammatically incorrect sentences, their kindness as they parse what I am trying to say and their patience as they repeat vocabulary words to me (again) are precious. There is something beautiful about the kingdom of God and learning to love your neighbor in all of this, but it can be hard for me to see it when I just want to know how far away the market we are walking to is.

  Rationally, I know it is ridiculous to be expecting myself to speak Kreyol like a native when I have only been here since January. I keep reminding myself of that fact, but there are SO many things I just want to be able to ask people. I want to talk to the women in the neighborhoods we visit about their children, their daily schedules, what they think about life and health. I want to ask kids how school was, what their day was like, what songs and foods they like or do not like. I am learning to string some of those sentences together, but I am impatient, dreaming of the day the words flow off of my tongue intelligibly.

   Will you join me in praying for grace in language learning? That I would work hard, while giving myself grace, and for grace for those are wrestling to understand me as well. Thanks friends.

Pictures from Wancheez

 
  This afternoon I went to one of my favorite neighborhoods and actually remembered to use my camera instead of just lugging it around everywhere.A girl from the neighborhood we were in took most of these pictures. I was not expecting great results, since the kids were running around all over the place, but I was really pleased with how most of them came out. I was excited about that, plus the fact that I figured out how to share pictures in this space, (for a technology-challenged girl like me, it’s a big deal) so I decided to post some of my favorites from the day.

Disclaimer: I am pretty certain I have not spelled any of these names correctly. I am working off of what I heard phonetically, and still getting the hang of spelling in this new language. Sorry!

The little girl in the middle, and the little one on the right are twins. Valencia and Evancia. We had two sets of twins on the beach with us today. 

Betsaida! Looking so happy and healthy! It was actually her older sister who took these pictures.

Betsaida's other sister, Jusnyka. Love her pose!

It was a pretty great afternoon. 

Wancheez, our photographer. (Actually, I took this pic.)

   Will you join me in praying for these precious kids? They matter. They matter to me, but more importantly they are so precious in the sight of my God. Will you join me in praying that they come to know how beloved they are to him, and that their lives would reflect that knowledge? Thank friends!