Lord, have mercy

  Things were slow around the house last week. People had food poisoning and the car was in Port Au Prince for a few days, getting major repairs. All this meant that for me last week was a time of learning and research. Every day shows me new things I do not know about navigating this culture, this language, these medical issues, and I am consistently reminded of my capacity for harm or ineffectiveness. It’s humbling and more than a little terrifying.

  I have always been fascinated by how two people can speak the same language, use the same words, and actually communicating two utterly different things. At least, it fascinated me on an intellectual level until I moved to a country where I am daily confronted with the hazards this phenomenon poses, especially coupled with people who are coming from two different cultural backgrounds. When I am trying (through an interpreter) to talk to a sick person, so often my questions make little to them and their answers leave me feeling confused. I understand the words, but I fear I am missing what the people are actually feeling and experiencing. I have much to discover about how the people I am working with think about life, how they view the world working. I love the challenge and opportunity in that, but I also fear the miscommunication that happens while I learn.

 On another level are all medical things that I have yet to learn. My middle class hospital job did not have me treating malaria, typhoid, parasites or malnutrition, so all I have to go off of is my book knowledge. One of the hardest things about being a nurse, for me, is that you have to learn on people. When I was a brand new nurse I lived in a constant state of panic, terrified of the things that could go wrong, that I could miss or do incorrectly and the suffering that could cause another human being. The thing was, in the hospital I had experienced nurses available to talk with me, help me with my patient care, and just get me through each shift. Being down here is like being a brand new nurse all over again, but without someone to lean on. I am so aware of my inexperience, how much I do not know and the potential for that to cause serious harm. I am always afraid I will miss something vital because I do not even know to look for it.

   One of my favorite and most commonly repeated prayers is “Lord, have mercy.” I think I may be learning to just breathe that as I navigate my days here. Lord, have mercy on me, have mercy on those I seek to serve, have mercy on those I seek to live with. Without it, none of us are going to make it. Join with me in praying that I would do no harm as I learn to live in this new culture, with these people? Pray that I would be aware of how much I do not know, unafraid to ask for help, and above all else that I would remain humble and seeking the God who loves these people so much more than I ever can? Thank you friends.

Lacul

    We have been in hanging around Ti Goave, the city I live in, since we got back from Marchasse Wednesday night. Thursday we visited the area I went to my very first time in Haiti almost twelve years ago. If there is a place in the world that holds my heart, Lacul and the surrounding areas is it. Walking the paths and seeing the houses and beach that hold so many memories for was a delight.

    I want to tell you some stories from that area. There is a now thirteen year old girl named Macanya, whom I have known for four or five years. Macanya makes me smile by existing. One of the most common ways I seek to build friendships with the kids when I am here is by making completely ridiculous faces at them. Macanya ridiculous faces back at me, often until my stomach hurts from laughing.  Like Darline in Marchasse, Macanya is sweet and bossy, an apparent leader among the girls her age. We saw her on Thursday and she remembered me. She has a new little brother now, less than three years old. He was not as thrilled to see my white face.

   I met Ingrid on my first trip to Haiti, when she was a new baby. She had some of the prettiest eyes I had ever seen. Over the years I have seen her grow from a serious and solemn baby, to a serious little toddler, to a serious little girl, to a reserved tween. Ingrid still has some of the prettiest eyes I have ever seen. She has always been healthy and in school, neither of which can be taken for granted here.

   Last week Ingrid’s younger sister died after running a fever for a couple days. Her name was Meveline and she was five years old. This is the kind of thing that happens here way more than it should, and it is a large part of why I am here. Children should not have to die of fevers. Mothers should not be left wondering what to do for their sick babies, or knowing what to do and helpless to do it. Everything in me cries out against this happening, when it could be prevented.

    This weekend Ingrid, Macanya and a couple other girls from their village are at the Happy House (the name for the house I live in). Today they played with and styled my hair, and we all agreed I need to shave my legs. We played dodge ball and Connect Four and laughed and laughed.  I have missed these girls. They made me so very glad to be here.

 Will you join with me in praying for Ingrid and her family, after the death of Meveline? And will you join me in praying for the precious girls at the house this weekend? Pray that they would finish school and that amidst the harshness of life here that they would have reason to hope. Thank you.

  

One week in!

“From the ends of the earth I call to you,

        I call as my heart grows faint;

       Lead me to the rock that is higher than I.”

   I have officially been in Haiti for a week and I definitely forgot how very much of my heart is here, in this country, with these people. Normally this would be the point where I would be packing up to go back to the States, but I do not have to anytime soon and that thrills me.

    We spent the first half of this week in a remote mountain area named Marchasse I have wanted to visit this part of Haiti since college, but the logistics of getting there precluded it. We drove most of Sunday, spent three nights, and came back to Ti Goave yesterday. The verse I quoted above is from Psalm 61, which I read daily, and that verse became my heart’s prayer for my time in Marchasse, as in many ways it felt like the ends of the earth.

  One of the first things that was brought to our attention when we got to Marchasse was the drought. Rain has been minimal for months, so now people have to walk very far to get water. Lack of water puts people on edge, and people were quite fearful about going outside at night. The fear was related to a voodoo belief that groups of people were going around killing other people in the dark. No one could say they had seen it for themselves, but many were afraid. That fear and the lack of water in and of themselves had me aching for the villagers, but here’s the kicker. The church and school had a dry cistern, which had not been utilized during the rain for reasons that were not made clear to me. So, there was a dry well that should have been full as the people suffered. It breaks my heart how poor or short sighted decisions of those with power or responsibility can cause suffering for so many.

  After that, what did our time in Marchasse look like? Our group stayed in a building on the church and school property and in the mornings we would play with and talk to the children while they waited for school to start. Any actual Creole-speaker will tell you that I have a long way to go in my language learning, and I am certain the kids were applying a not small amount of grace in their listening, but I had short conversations with them. Questions like how old they were, where their house was, if they had brothers or sisters.  I have always loved being with the kids, but it is a lot more fun when I can talk with them.

   In the afternoons we visited houses and families in the village. Kids walked with us to different houses, generous people brought out chairs and we sat and chatted with the people around us. I believe this is where a lot of the relationship is built, and I really believe that this is the most important part of what we did.

On the medical side of things, I’m still learning what to bring to the places we go, and how much of it.  I had a little backpack with very basic medical supplies. I mainly treated worms and fevers and made mental noted about all the things I want to remember for next time.

  I know this is getting long, but I want to take a moment to talk about one particular little girl, Darline. I met her at the school on our first day and we visited her part of the village that afternoon. Darline escorted me down the rocky mountain road and was very clear about my need to say hello to everyone we passed by. She also insisted on carrying my backpack and made sure I had a chair everywhere we went. As the afternoon went on we began joking and telling the kids she was my mom. I loved it. Her bossy kindness made me smile, and the ability to chat and sing with her made my day. The best part of the whole thing is that I can reasonably hope to see her again later this year!

  When we left Marchasse the people sent us with a suitcase full of grapefruit and two chickens. That may sound weird to readers in the States, but it shows the incredible generosity of the people there. These are people who more often than not are at least undernourished, where as I mentioned above even getting water is a struggle, and to show their gratitude they gave back to us. I was so humbled.

   Well, if you’ve made it this far reading my update, thanks for the perseverance! Join with me in praying for the people of Marchasse? Pray that rain would come, watering the land and hopefully easing some of the tension of the people. Pray that they would continue to grow in discipleship, that the words of James 2 would be true in their lives, that even though they are poor in the eyes of the would they would be rich in faith. Thank you!

Tomorrow!

Tomorrow morning I board a plane for Haiti. I am so excited to be pursuing what is for me a lifelong dream (seriously, who gets to do that at barely 25). I am humbled and grateful at all the ways the people close to me have loved me in the last few weeks. I am in awe of how the Lord has provided already. Those are the fun and easy emotions and I am savoring them.  I am also anxious and a little overwhelmed at what lies before me. Partially because I have no idea what lies before me, but also because I am so very aware of how much I cannot do this thing on my own. The God I serve is big, and loves these people more than I could ever hope to. I really believe those things, and I am clinging to them in the times of doubt, but it helps when others remind me of these truths.

So, will you join me in prayer for the next few days? Pray for my family as we finish our good byes. Pray for those I am going to work with as we get to know one another better and learn to labor together. Pray for my heart and especially my emotions. I have a lot of them tonight. Thank you.

Hello everyone!

   I’ve promised many of you I would be blogging my way through these upcoming adventures, so here’s my first attempt. I am planning on using this space for regular updates and prayer requests and for communicating any specific needs as they arise. My goal is to write at least once a week, if not more often.

    I leave the States in just a few days to work with Ed Lockett in and around Petit Goave Haiti. I have been dreaming of an opportunity like the one I’ve been handed since college and I am incredibly excited to begin this new adventure.
 
    For those who are so inclined, please join me in prayer over my last few days in the States and first few days in Haiti. Pray for my family as we say our good-byes, and for me as I begin the process of navigating a new culture. Thanks everyone for your support and prayers.