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.