A Glimpse into the ICU

Hurting

Healing

Hoping

Happy



Worth every effort.

To God be the glory.

So much, yet so little to say

I really thought I'd blog more than I have.  It's been a month since my last post, and it's not like I don't have plenty of experiences and thoughts to share.  In fact, there is so much stuff rumbling around inside of me (and I'm not referencing to my intestines) that I just simply don't have much to say.  Does that make any sense?

I sit quietly with my thoughts regularly here.  Processing.  Stretching.  Searching for wisdom and understanding.  I spend time just soaking in my feelings.  It's not a new concept for me; I'm one who likes to take quiet walks or sit on the porch swing and just think about stuff.  But this is different.

Here, everything is so raw.  So in your face.  So hard.  So simple.  So complicated.  So ugly.  So absolutely beautiful.

I will admit this, even though most people that read it probably won't understand the depths of it:

I love feeling alive.
Eyes opened.  Heart aching.  Body challenged.  Selfish wants restricted.
Living for others first, actually putting myself at less of a priority.
Struggling with the internal battle of self vs. living for my Lord.
Peeling away layer after layer of pride and self-righteousness.
Appreciating things that I've always taken for granted.
Learning not to judge.
Loving justice, and knowing Who the Judge is.
Mourning with those who mourn, rejoicing with those who rejoice.
Engaging with those around me.
Loving.   Actively loving.  Putting 100% of myself into loving others.
Being loved.  Actually allowing others to love me.  And savoring it when they do.
Watching this crazy world around me, wondering where God is in all of it, and then finding Him.
Doing what I can, and being satisfied when there's nothing else I can do.  Just trusting.
Recognizing beauty in imperfections, even in defects.
Discovering some amazing everyday works of the Lord, and realizing I am only seeing a drop in the bucket compared to how amazing His works truly are.
Begging for mercy on behalf of those who can't.
Laughing deeply.  Smiling often, even when I really don't want to.
Getting over myself.
Getting over myself.
Getting over myself.

I am alive.  I knew it was possible.  I knew it would be good.          
But this is beyond great.

Alive......... not just existing.
Actively living.

The more I give, the more I receive.  The more I give OF MYSELF, the more I grow INSIDE.
Watching God work.  Being still and knowing that it is Him.

Living.  This is living.  It's not for everyone.  It's actually not for most.  But that's okay.
It's for me.  And I feel alive like never before.

Undeservedly blessed.  Extravagantly blessed.
Learning what being thankful really feels like.
 
No, I'm not just feeling alive....I am alive.  Actively living.  And it is good.  So good.

Less of me, more of Thee.  I am learning that is the only way to truly living.
I feel alive, because finally, genuinely, I am.

To God be all the glory.

What a Tuesday....

Tuesday morning started out with my cellphone ringing.  It’s unusual, since I don’t chat on the phone with many folks here in Haiti.  I was in a deep sleep, even though the world outside was already awake and in full swing.  That is not unusual, though, as I am unfortunately not a morning person.  So like a bear coming out of hibernation, I grabbed my phone to see what craziness must be going on.  Was I ever in for a wake-up call.

Brennon was on the other end of that call, and he was speaking to me in his “I’m being calm, so you need to be, too” voice.  I was wide awake in less than a second of hearing that voice.  It’s never good.  He called to let me know that he was on the scene of a terrible accident that had occurred a mile down the road from RHFH, just minutes earlier, involving a tap-tap.  A tap-tap is a Haitian taxi, and in this case, it was a pickup truck with built-up sides around the bed in order to hold a ridiculous amount of people.  One common factor about tap-taps: they are horribly crowded and nearly always over-capacity.  This tap-tap’s brakes had failed – yet another common trait – and in the driver’s best effort to crash gently, it overturned.  Over thirty people were riding on this pickup truck, on their way to market in Cazale.  Many of the passengers were vendors, hauling bags of rice and other goods to sell. 

Brennon’s call was to tell me to get ready, it was bad.  Dead bodies.  People trapped underneath the truck.  The injured would be heading our way to the clinic soon.  Get ready!  As my adrenaline began to kick in, and hearing the hopelessness in my husband’s voice, I told him I loved him.  I always do.  No matter what the context of the conversation, it’s important to me for him to know I love him.  But especially in those dark, hard times, I want him to feel me with him.  Because I am. 

Everyone was scurrying around the yard, preparing as best we could for the unknown.  I couldn’t even count the times I said to myself, “What should I do?”  Knowing a tidal wave was about to hit, the likes of which I have never seen, was very surreal.  It was intimidating.  As we could hear the motos (motorcycle taxis) pulling up with the first injured to be treated, I grabbed my 17 year old daughter, hugged her tight, and we prayed.  The two of us felt so underequipped and useless, but we prayed to just let Jesus be seen through us and RHFH this day.  If nothing else, let these people see You, Lord.

Twenty-seven injured people came to RHFH.  A few had only minor injuries, many had non-life threatening injuries that were substantial, and some were fighting to stay alive. 

Blood.  Contorted limbs.  Moaning. 

The quietness of the unconscious. 

A couple of really horrific injuries….the kind that the sight of them will forever be engrained into my memory.  “Graphic” doesn’t even begin to describe it. 

Two traumatized children, banged up and hurting, who feared their grandmother was dying. 

Tears. 

Strength unlike any I’ve ever seen.  An elderly woman who chose to walk to the ambulance rather than be carried, despite her substantial loss of blood.  A man that silently grimaced in pain, lying on the concrete with broken bones, without complaint or demanding help, patiently waiting, grateful for a drink of water. 

The crowd gathering outside the gate, filled with anxiety and emotion.  Some just wanting to get a peek.

The ambulances, what a miracle!  We hoped for two, but five showed up in an incredible response time of just an hour and a half (remember, we are deep in the mountains).

Despite the odds, every injured person that entered the yard at RHFH left here alive.  Incredible.

Like a hurricane, the casualties came in.  And in a blur, we looked up and it was over. 

I managed to find my place to lend a hand throughout that crazy morning.  Handing out ice packs, distributing water to patients and staff, wiping up blood and disinfecting, keeping communication rolling, and lots of comforting.  Lesley photographed patients, documenting injuries and ambulance loadings, cleaned up used supplies lying in the yard, and assisted staff putting i.v.’s in patients. 

The noon hour rolled in.  The regular Tuesday Clinic, with 216 scheduled appointments, resumed….like nothing extraordinary ever happened.     

Dejage.

The Lord was with us in this yard Tuesday.  No doubt.  He's always here.... but I tell ya, He was HERE that morning. 

The Most Beautiful Woman

Today I met the most beautiful woman. 

She has deep wrinkles from many years of living a hard life deep in the mountains of Haiti.

She is slender and muscular, because she doesn’t get to eat much food and has to work hard.

She is a great-great grandmother.  She is a widow.    

She isn’t sure of her age, because they just didn’t keep up with the years back when she was young.

She believes in Jesus.  She knows He takes care of her. 

She has faith in her loving, always-present Father.  She sings His praises.  She shares her stories of how the Lord is always watching over and blessing her.

Her only support comes from her church, a little meeting place up in the mountains.  The poorest of the poor, following the Word, they sacrifice and share so that this widow is taken care of.  The purest example of the Church.  True worship (James 1:27). 

Today she followed what Jesus told her to do.  She brought her granddaughter’s son, a little boy two years of age, to Real Hope for Haiti.  On her own, she has cared for this child, abandoned by his mother, for the past year.  It has been difficult, and she needs help. 

Her words:

Nourishment she cannot provide him.  That she needs help with.

Jesus, she has plenty of Jesus to share with him, though. 

This wise woman of many years is a wonderful example of what a beautiful woman of faith looks like. 

Strength.  Not of her own, but fully from Jesus.

Faith.  In all things, believing He is in control.

Worship.  In the moment He blesses, that is the time to sing His praises, proclaim His name, and dance with joy for the grace He provides. 

What an honor I had today to kiss the cheek of such a beautiful woman of God.

Settling In

It’s been almost three weeks since we hauled our ridiculous amount of luggage to the airport, in true Beverly Hillbillies style, and boarded our plane for Haiti.  The days tend to fly by here; it doesn’t seem possible that three weeks have already passed.  Yet, we have settled so comfortably into our new surroundings and feel very at home.  It is such a good feeling to not only be familiar with names and faces of the staff, but to realize that they are becoming familiar and comfortable around us.  A joyful “Bon jour!” in the morning, a shared laugh over our efforts of speaking Creole, and patient tolerance as we begin to learn from our new friends.  Our family not only feels welcomed here at Real Hope for Haiti, but loved as well.  What a blessing.

Our family is currently still living in the RHFH guest house as our home is being finished out.  It is almost ready, and we are eager to move in.  Living out of suitcases is not too enjoyable, but we’ve come to realize that this is the transition that we truly did needed.  We did not have to suddenly face all the responsibilities and challenges associated with living independently, such as meal preparation and having clean drinking water.  In other words, the culture shock of our new lifestyle has been at a minimum, for which we are very thankful.       

   

Brennon at the end of another long day on the mountain.

Brennon has been working long, hard, dusty hours up at the construction site.  Progress is steady, but everything here in Haiti is ten times (or more) difficult than back home in the States.  He recently said to me, as he was digging through his suitcase with all his tools in it, “Do you know how hard it is to just START a truck in Haiti?!”  Well, no, but I was sure I would soon hear all about it.  I’ve been so proud of Brennon’s patience since we’ve been here.  I know he’s been being prepared for many years for the bang-your-head-against-the-wall challenges he is dealing with on a daily basis.  Now, I can’t say that I’ve been quite as prepared to wash his work clothes….by hand.  Good grief!  I think he brings part of that mountain home with him every day in those Carhartts!  But once again, I realize that I have absolutely nothing to complain about – I have the luxury of washing our clothes here at the house, comfortably cool in front of a fan.  Many of our neighbors don’t have that luxury, and are down at the river to do their laundry, having walked a good distance down the mountain with their heavy load of clothes in a basin on top of their head.  I am fortunate indeed.

Wiped out after spending the evening playing in the rain.

It’s been fun to watch my 11 year old learn to be a kid since we’ve arrived here.  With no television or Playstation, she’s been forced to entertain herself by doing crazy things such as participate in an after-dark game of Hide & Seek, take turns swinging in a hammock, playing in the rain, and different activities requiring the use of this thing called imagination.  While she does get to have a little bit of digital time with her DS game, and she can watch a movie on our little DVD player, she has spent hours upon hours making crafts, coloring, reading (yes, reading!) and building a fort on the balcony.  I discovered that she snatched the sheet off my bed to construct one of the fort’s “walls,” but being so delighted by her ingenuity (and the fact that she was perfectly entertained by her construction project for an entire day), I made due with using a beach towel as my sheet (not that one needs to do much covering up while sleeping here).  Brianna is enjoying having friends to play and be silly with, and we are so thankful that the Betor boys have welcomed her in, making her feel right at home.  Probably the most important detail worth noting would be that she is more than ready for us to move into our house so that she can finally have a pet kitten.  I can’t even tell you how often she has asked, “When do we get to go home?”  I have to ask her every time, “Our new house, or the one in Kentucky?”  Most of the times, the answer is the new house.  Fuzzy, adorable kitties trump everything else.   

Lesley has only taken a few thousand photos since we arrived.

Lesley has been getting into the groove here.  She is like a kid in a candy store with the abundance of mangoes and quenep fruit available to us.  Her camera is getting quite a workout, as is her computer.  She’s discovered that she does well with working on big, tedious projects in the office.  It’s been fun to see her gleam over accomplishing a gnarly task and marking it off the to-do list.  I must give her an “A” for effort in trying to assist in the clinic, even though she can only hang in there for a few minutes at a time when someone is getting stitches or an i.v.  “I’ve tried to watch, Mom, I just ….couldn’t.”  Poor kid is truly her mother’s daughter.  She’s sticking to photography assignments and projects that don’t involve needles.  And that’s perfectly okay!  It is precious to watch her interact with the kids here, especially when she shares her love for music with Nerline.  She beams with pride when Nerline starts tapping her foot and moving to the beat as Lesley introduces her to her favorite bands, like Florence and the Machine.  Good music is fabulous therapy, for everyone.

Sunday afternoons are best spent lounging on the couch! 

Then there’s me.  God has stretched me and equipped me to do things that I would never have dreamed of doing, and I certainly would not have expected having a desire to do them!  I am amazed at myself when I assist with an i.v. and realize that I’m staring at a needle and not turning green.  That’s huge for me!  I hate needles, and actually, I’m really quite pathetic around anything medical.  That’s how I know that our God has a great sense of humor.  The setting that would be the last thing I’d ever choose, he has put me right in the middle of, equipped me to cope with it exceedingly well , and enjoy it!  Lesson learned:  never put boundaries on what you are willing to do for the Lord.  Just trust Him, and He’ll take care of all the details.

I have been busy with projects in the office, learning everything I can.  The best moments of my days are spent loving on the kids here.  I feel that it is a huge privilege to be able to hold a hurting child, providing comfort and a mommy’s touch.  One day last week was really a tough one for me, with crisis after crisis happening all around me.  I’m just not used to it yet, so it was very draining.  Late that afternoon, I took a few minutes just to go hang out with the kids in the ICU room.  One little girl in particular has tugged at my heart, completely rejecting any affection we try to give her.  Not only has her body been ravaged by malnutrition, but her heart is broken from neglect.  I see the emotional pain in her eyes, and it rattles me to my core.  On that particularly crazy, hectic day, I was given the opportunity to pause.  I sat with her.  I made silly faces.  I tickled her belly.  I kissed her forehead. 

And then, she smiled.   Even giggled a tiny, itty-bitty giggle.  She allowed me to pick her up, and we cuddled there on her cot for a little while.

That is what it’s all about.  Victory in Jesus.  Through that little girl, I saw my Father.  I pray that she saw Him through me.

******************************

"But if serving the Lord seems undesirable to you, then choose for yourselves this day whom you will serve, whether the gods your ancestors served beyond the Euphrates, or the gods of the Amorites, in whose land you are living. But as for me and my household, we will serve the Lord."  Joshua 24:15

Hope in Jesus

Hope is defined as "the feeling that what is wanted can be had or that events will turn out for the best."  Hope is a good thing. 

But my hope is in Jesus.  It's more than just a feeling; it's a solid assurance.  It's a promise that will not be broken.  Hope in Jesus is more than good, it's peace beyond all explanation. Even as I look into the eyes of a child as he takes his last breaths, I can confidently tell him that it will be okay.  I can tell him the truth that he is loved, will soon feel no more pain, and everything will be okay. 

That little boy now knows that hope is real.  As he is now sitting at the feet of our Father, he no longer feels pain.  He no longer suffers.  He is surrounded by love, beauty, mercy.  He is embraced by the presence of the Lord.  A better hope than that does not exist.

Romans 5:2-5 -

"...And we boast in the hope of the glory of God. ³ Not only so, but we also glory in our sufferings, because we know that suffering produces perseverance; ⁴ perseverance, character; and character, hope. ⁵ And hope does not put us to shame, because God’s love has been poured out into our hearts through the Holy Spirit, who has been given to us."

And that is how I can look into a dying child’s eyes and tell him,

“It’s going to be okay.  You are NOT forgotten.  You are loved.”

How thankful I am to have this confidence within me.  It WILL be okay.  Praise be all to Jesus.

The Final Countdown

I haven't posted in a while, so here's a little update.  We are just days away (9 to be exact) from departure.  In the wee hours of June 19th, my family and I will hit the road and head to the Nashville airport.  Our dear friends Jesse and Joelle will be hauling us and all our junk in their truck, bless their hearts!  We'll fly out of BNA, switch planes in Miami, and - all things running on schedule - we will be on the ground in Haiti by early afternoon.  Then we'll load our massive amount of luggage into the truck and drive the 90-minute bumpy, dusty ride to our new neighborhood in Cazale.  After the day of traveling, that ride will be pretty exhausting, especially since my girls and I will probably be sitting atop all those suitcases in the back of the caged-in pickup.  Brennon, riding up in the cab, and Papa Zach, our fearless leader, will no doubt have manly stuff to discuss right off the bat.  Have I mentioned that a great portion of the trip is on gravel roads?  Oh, we're going to have a BLAST that afternoon.  Dramamine will be my best friend.

From the updates we've heard, our house in the Caribbean (I really get a kick out of saying that) is nearly finished.  We'll have some details to work through during our first week or two month, like getting water and electricity operational.  We are just looking at it like a fantastic camping excursion until we get the kinks worked out.  However, in Haiti, you never run out of kinks.  I have done the best I can to pack little things to decorate our new home to make it feel more "homey."  Brianna will have Hello Kitty wall decals and glow-in-the-dark stickers for her ceiling.  And a new pet cat is promised.  We'll need some help fighting off the rats, I'm sure.  Our lightweight quilts are packed up, including Lesley’s really groovy lizard quilt that my sweet Aunt Kathy made for her just a few years before she lost her fight with cancer.  I think little treasures from home like that will make us not feel quite so lonesome in the months to come.  I’m hopeful, at least. 

I just packed our “Haitian microwave,” better known as the pressure cooker.  That’s what our new form of “convenience” is going to look like.  Our generator is on a shipping container somewhere between Miami and Haiti right now, as far as I know.  I hope that little jewel has a safe passage and gets through Customs easily, along with our couch and mattresses.  Isn’t it funny what really becomes important to you when you are looking at having to start from scratch..…in a third world country! 

Things are progressing smoothly so far.  Satan has been trying to beat us down and discourage us, but our God is bigger and has faithfully carried us through all the trials we have been faced with.  It makes the battle a whole lot easier to fight when we recognize who the enemy is.  But if our God is for us, who can be against us?  Our help comes from the Lord.   

                      

If you are a praying person and would like to know what to pray for, can I make a suggestion?  Could you be praying for our families and friends this upcoming couple of weeks?  We are in a place of great peace that we know is a heavenly gift.  I’ve wigged out about upcoming vacations far more than the anxiety I feel about this huge journey.  It’s pretty cool to be calm.  My to-do list is shrinking and isn’t haunting me at all.  This past week we learned we don’t have any cavities, the dog doesn’t have worms, and I even got my overdue book fee paid off at the library.  We’re on a roll, I tell ya!  Since we’ve been able to get most of those chores knocked out, this week will be focused on having some quiet time sipping a latte with my mom, splashing in the pool with Brianna, and saying our goodbyes.  Last night we gathered with Brennon's parents and siblings to devour steaks and cookie cake.  Quality time is very sacred to me, now more than ever.   

I’ve given up on wearing mascara.  There’s probably no point.  This week isn’t going to be easy for us or the ones we love.  Our family has never been away from our hometown for more than a two-week period.  Ever.  Born and raised here, we are fixtures here in our end of the commonwealth.  So, as you can imagine, our families are not too excited about the approaching of the 19^th of June.  So please pray for them – and us – as we say goodbye  “See ya later!”    

             My Mom and Dad think my kid hung the moon.  :)

As soon as it is logistically possible, I'll be posting an update from once we get to Haiti.  But not until I hug some special kiddos.  First thing's first!