Chapter Two: Harsh Realities and a Mother's Love

Tonight, I will sleep very little as I wrestle with a heavy heart. The realities of this culture are too difficult for words sometimes, the symptoms of a broken world far too evident. Perhaps I was numb to the pain the first week of being here, caught up in the excitement of new experiences but dull to the fact that behind each new procedure was a person... and today, reality came pounding at the walls of my heart.

It was in the treating a four year old girl for a condition brought on by sexual abuse. The questions tumbled about in my heart of how anyone could commit such an atrocity against someone so innocent and defenseless. Though this is far from being exclusive to Haiti, I ache tonight for the little Haitian girl who fought so hard against our well-meaning hands, knowing that she has been exposed to the darkest of the dark in the world already...

Soon after, a woman came in, her body already in the process of delivering her stillborn child. Her fourth unsuccessful pregnancy. Though she did not wail or weep, there was sadness in her eyes. I was in the room, but not fully present with her, task oriented. Check the vitals. Check for bleeding. Unable to communicate, unable to connect with her pain in that instance for fear that I would let my own emotions go.

It makes me reflect upon motherhood, and the beautiful  role of a mother. A mother is the only home a child knows for the first nine months of it's life, and continues to be sustained by her body for months afterward, nursing at her breast. The mother is a giver, knowing a love so deep and sacrificial my mind cannot even fathom it. Mothers are shapers of the next generation. I pay tribute to all the mothers, both with babies old and young, both on this earth and in heaven, for their love, their sacrifice, and their toil.

I am thankful for places like Haiti Health Ministries that exist in these communities to offer good medical care, support, and most of all, the hope of Christ, to the hurting in this nation. I am amazed by the fulltime missionaries who have given their lives over to this work, to seeing these realities and continuing on in their faithful kingdom work.

I am thankful most of all, for a healing Father. For a God who is good when the world seems void of goodness. For a Comforter. I am thankful for His arms that opened up to receive this mother's child today.

Prayer requests that come to mind:
Again, for the staff to show Christ's love and for opportunities to offer His hope to the hurting.
Pray for this mother as she copes with her loss
Pray for this little girl, and the many children trapped in similar situations.
Pray for me to depend on God fully, and for His supply of compassion, grace and strength

Chapter One: Of Travel and Transitions

Hello friends and family!

My adventure is 6 days in, and I can finally say I am typing in the humid Haitian air. I wish to first off express my deep appreciation for my prayer warriors out there… I have been feeling the impact of your prayers as I have gone through these first days of transition. There are certain discomforts, surely, but much joy as well!

The trip here went as smooth as one could hope. I arrived in Port au Prince early in the morning, and Sandy was there to greet me. After a couple hitches that prevented us from leaving the airport, we went around the city for most of the day to collect supplies for the pharmacy and also did some errands for the construction work that is ongoing at HHM. I hadn’t been down the roads of PAP since the earthquake, but I was amazed at the work that has been done since!

I came to volunteer with Haiti Health Ministries at a very exciting time. HHM was previously located very close to the epicentre of the earthquake, and they lost all their buildings (as did most of the town they were in). They have since purchased the site they now operate out of in Gressier, and rebuilt from the ground up. Had I arrived three weeks earlier, I would have seen them in action providing their care in tents… however, they are now in their brand new facility, and what a blessing that is!

The clinic opens at 7:30 am, and fills up quickly! The clinic staff lead a hymn-sing and devotional in the morning with their patients in the waiting room, while the medical staff gathers for a short education session and to pray. The rest of the day is filled with seeing patients. Right now, I am being oriented by a missionary nurse who has been working with HHM since September. She assists with surgeries, administers vaccinations and medications, assists with dressing changes, takes vital signs, and really just jumps in where extra hands are needed! She is awesome, and has been a great teacher.

It’s been an amazing learning experience these first four days in the clinic! I have seen many things, and have many more to learn. I have had the opportunity to sit in on minor surgeries for the removal of keloids and even a lipoma (a fatty tumour),  seen a gangrenous rotting foot, I’ve been taught how they do prenatal assessments, I have seen breast biopsys and warts removed… I’ve taken many sets of vitals! It’s such a variety of things to learn, and I am loving it!

There were some hard nights, but the transition has been made much easier by the lovely staff here that has been so welcoming. A couple of the ladies have had me over for scones and tea and a couple episodes of “Call the Midwife”. They have also had me along for walks outside the clinic walls… I will be sure to bring my camera along next time so I can show you pictures of this beautiful country!  I am really looking forward to spending the next 9 weeks here.

As I had my quiet time the other day, I remembered back on a patient that I had back in Lethbridge who was a cinematographer. I remember talking to his daughter, and she had told me, “Growing up, my dad would always pause to show us things he found beautiful. He had such an eye for capturing beauty. It got to the point, once I grew up, that I could see my dad’s work and know it was his before I even saw his name on it, because I had learned to see things through my dad’s eyes”.
I feel that is so profoundly what I desire in my relationship with my Heavenly Daddy. I find that I am still that little girl, needing Him to direct my gaze to see the things of His heart. And that’s part of my prayer as I spend the next couple of months here. I know full well I didn’t need to leave Canada to see as He does, but I believe He called me here at this time, and I hope to make the most of it. I long to be trained by my Daddy to see the beauty that He sees in His created, and to call that out! But I need much prayer as I learn to be still with Him and open my heart to do that. The Lord is so gracious in supplying for my needs, and in His lavishing of grace as I stumble through learning the many things I don’t know here.

I hope my thoughts have not been too disjointed as I try to paint a picture of what my role will look like for the next couple of months, and in the stirrings of my heart as the adventure kicks off!

If you are praying, I’d like to highlight some requests.
- Pray for the Lord to shine His light through all of us at HHM
- Pray for opportunities to minister not only medically, but to share the gospel
- Pray for me as I stumble over learning the language
- Pray for me to learn well how to be still, and to see with my Father’s eyes

Thanks again for your support, love and prayers! It means more to me than I can express with my words.

TWO sets of footprints

Hello, wonderful friends and family of mine!

I cannot believe how fast the time has gone.. in less than a week, I will be back on Haitian soil after four years! As I have reflected on what has brought me to this moment, I have re-read my accounts of Haiti, I have thumbed through my scrawled prayers... and I eventually came back to this blog, and thought a little bit about the title I chose... two sets of footprints.

It's kind of funny, because the famous poem "Footprints" emphasizes that in times of struggle or anguish, only one set of footprints marked the sand. The imprint would be deeper in the heels, for they bore the extra weight of one carrying another... not of one being alone.

I did not entitle my blog two sets of footprints because I am fool enough to think I can walk each step on my own. My heart is prepared to struggle, to break, to ask questions, and I think I will encounter many of those "one" set of footprints in the sand moments. I believe, when I first wrote this blog, that it was a reminder to myself that the one set of footprints will never be mine on my own. There is not a single fraction of a second of this trip that I will be alone, not one sliver of a moment that I will be apart from the God who promises to be with me always!

So here we go again, stepping into the glorious unknown. I marvel at the amazing ways that God has already been revealing His heart through provision, through open doors into a tiny seed of a dream of a naive 18 year old girl. I go, with very little to offer once more, but willingness and a fairly green nursing diploma!

Heartfelt thanks to all of those who have invested prayerfully and financially into this step of my journey! I hope that this blog will be a means of baring my heart and allowing you to experience the beauty and struggles of this adventure alongside me! May you be truly blessed for the outpour of love and support you have shown me!

T - 6 days to take off!

Whispers from Heaven

I don't understand why the the poorest nation in the Western hemisphere was left powerless as the ground shook. I don't understand why those who already struggled to stand were knocked into the dirt again. I don't understand why hundreds of thousands of people had to be crushed, or why millions are left to mourn for the loved ones that lie beneath the dust and rubble, while more millions sleep under sheets at the feet of their neighbours. I don't understand why a country with so little dignity has been stripped as they are forced to bare everything to bathe on the sides of the streets. I don't understand why parents cannot keep their children, or the love it takes to give a child up for a better life with someone else. I don't understand the struggle to go days without food. I don't understand why such a beautiful people must endure these things.

But I found this verse, and I can't even begin to explain how cool this is to me.

1 Kings 19:11-12
The LORD said, "Go out and stand on the mountain in the presence of the LORD, for the LORD is about to pass by. Then a great and powerful wind tore the mountains apart and shattered the rocks before the LORD, but the LORD was not in the wind. After the wind there was an earthquake, but the LORD was not in the earthquake. After the earthquake came a fire, but the LORD was not in the fire. And after the fire came a gentle whisper.

Haiti endured a 7.0 earthquake, countless more aftershocks, and now it endures the rains. But God has come upon Haiti in a gentle whisper.

There are so many things I don't understand. But I saw God using the earthquake. I saw the most resilient nation stand up, brush themselves off, let the tears slide down their face, raise their hands, and open their mouths to praise the King of Kings, the God of their country, and the Savior of their hearts.
God whispers to them. He whispers of comfort, and hope, and peace, and love, and strength, and of His glory. And He is with those beautiful Haitians as they cry, and as they sleep under sheets, and as they wonder where their next meal will come from.
He whispers.

Isaiah 54;10
Though the mountains be shaken and the hills be removed, yet my unfailing love for you will not be shaken nor my covenant of peace be removed," says the LORD, who has compassion on you

one month ago today i would have been...

One month ago, I would have started the morning changing 15 diapers. There would be a beautiful kind of chaos about the balcony as each volunteer went about dividing their attention between three children, watching the smiles and laughter erupt from their faces. The ground shook still, reminding us all of what had changed in forty seconds, a testament to the reality that all of Haiti faced. A reality that we could escape from by looking into the eyes of a child, by kissing their cheeks and watching them giggle, or by pushing them in toy cars and swings.

They didn't need to know why the news was on constantly downstairs. That the death toll climbed with every hour, that the streets of Port au Prince and everywhere else had been left unrecognizable. They didn't have to worry that water might not come or that food might be scarce. They just had to be kids - and thankfully, we just had to let them.

That day, after the 7.0 earthquake that devastated the beautiful nation of Haiti, I felt my Lord wrapping His arms around my heart and mind, whispering peace into my ears, filling me with energy and love to pour on those kids. I wasn't feeling all that strong, but then again, God doesn't say "You are too emotional, I can't use you" or "Work out for a few weeks, then we'll talk". No - He see's you when you are tired and weak and ready to fully submit to Him, and He says "NOW we're talking!" And then, He uses you for the coolest things!

I remember attempting to help the nannies feed the kids. They have it down to an exact art you see, and I am no Picasso, let me tell you. But as we struggled to get kids in chairs and to figure out which mouth to feed next, or how to get that one stubborn little guy to swallow, Rhyan, one of the volunteers said "You know what? Earthquakes are fun!" I remember looking at her like "Are you crazy?" and wondering what could possibly be fun about them, when she elaborated. "I was here for nine months last year, and I NEVER got to be a part of feeding the kids. We get to see how things usually are around here. It's fun!"

I'll be, She was right.

Explosive diapers? Bring it on. Kids who won't swallow? Sure, we'll take those too. Because those kids were the reason we were there, were the reason behind every smile, the reason we didn't keel over in exhaustion. Those kids were our hope.

And after those long days, laying on the bunks in the toddler house, the unashamed voices from the nannies at the toddler house would raise to the sky glorifying our unshaken God, and we knew everything would be alright. That the ground might tremble, but our faith didn't have to, because He's got the whole world in His hands.

Maybe it took an earthquake for me to realize that.

FAITH

The other day, I was driving home from Lethbridge through some serious fog. It was night, and I could barely see 10 meters in front of me. I did not know when the road curved or dipped, nor if I was even close to the lights of the place I called home.

As I drove, hunched white knuckled over the steering wheel, I began to think... isn't faith so much like driving through fog? At times, there is such a haze around us that we can't see where we are going, and we have to follow blindly. Even though we don't know we are getting any closer, even though we don't feel like we are gaining any ground, we just have to trust that the road we are on is taking us home. That God is still there in the darkness.

And then, maybe sometimes you can't follow blindly, maybe sometimes you need a reason, a something to follow. As I drove along the dark, foggy roads, at the times I was most afraid, I would be passed by one vehicle. Not ten, not five, not two, just one. And then I would follow the car as it curved with the road, much more at ease because someone had drove the road before me. And isn't that what Jesus does for us? When we are fearful and afraid, when we have abandoned hope and lost faith, He is there, in front of us, headlights lighting the way, assuring us that we WILL make it home... that He will lead us there.

Just something to think about.

for a beautiful girl.

I remember her eyes. They told a story, almost like a mystery just begging to be pulled off the shelf and read. She was guarded, reserving her smile only if I drew it out of her, but it was the most beautiful of smiles when I finally did. Her laugh was like a fresh breath of air, and I would find new life in myself just because I heard it.

She knew people came and didn't stay long, so when I held her, she would hold tight as if to never let go. When I had to put her down, she would desperately cling to me, fighting whatever obstacles were in the way of her and her being loved. Her tears prompted my own, because it was hard to know they fell for my abandonment, however brief it may have been.

She was tempermental, and not halfheartedly so. Her stubbornness made her all the more appealing to love, and value, and hold. Maybe she will never know of the piece of my heart she took with her, and maybe she won't ever know that somewhere, on the other side of the globe, there is someone praying that she finds a love to smile about all the time. But maybe, just maybe, for the short time I spent with her, she knew that she was loved, and thats all I could ever hope for.

I remember her eyes.