September marked my 10 year anniversary in Haiti. In October, I turned 32. As I sit here and think about the past 10 years and the 22 years before that, I just well up with tears. Tears of gratefulness to the Lord for not giving me what I wanted when I wanted it — but giving me something better. Ten years is a long time to see a lot happen. When I first came to Haiti on my first visit almost 11 years ago, Danita had one house and was building a second floor. We would go up to the 2nd floor at night, sit on cement blocks, and drink Coke from a glass bottle. The property that now has a school, church, dental clinic, playground, cistern, cafeteria, 8 new homes, and a children’s medical center was just a field with grass and cows and goats when I first came. The children that were 4, 5, and 6 years old are now 14, 15, and 16 years old and tower over me. The joy and purpose that our children give me is more than I could ever express in words…
The older I get, the more I realize that I am such a sinner, in DESPERATE need of God’s grace…in DESPERATE need of His wisdom…in DESPERATE need of His presence.
There is something about seeing a God-given vision come to pass that is priceless. I have seen the hand of God move in ways that could fill a book. I have seen how integrity and not compromising as a leader brings forth the blessings of God. I have been blessed to have a leader like Danita who has shown me what it means to walk with God in whatever He has called you to do and most importantly, how to walk with God in my personal life.
When I look over the past 10 years, I am most grateful for the privilege of meeting the most incredible people this world will never know. The people whose names will never make headlines. The people who will never be tagged in a Facebook status as a hero. The people who will never grace a Twitter post. The people who die alone, but not alone. There is something about these people that makes me feel like I am the luckiest girl in the world to be in their presence. Their presence is a reminder that my flesh is ever-present and He must become greater and I must become less. Their presence humbles me over and over and over again.
People like the lady I met years ago with leprosy. Her name was Milta. She was living in her hut…people abandoned her…they thought she was cursed because of past adultery. I will never forget walking into the hut and seeing her laying there on the floor, naked, with open sores all over her body. The leprosy was eating away at her flesh and maggots were eating away at it, too. I leaned down to talk to her and her voice was shaking because of the pain. She shared with me how people were trying to get her to go to a witch doctor because voodoo would heal her of her disease. She told me in Creole, “I told them I will not do that. If I die, I will die here alone…with Jesus.” Several days later, she did die right there…but not alone.
Another one of my heroes is a young woman named Evelyn. In 2006, she showed up at our property. She had severe pain in one of her breasts. There were several open wounds and I knew something had to be done. I took her to the Dominican Republic to various hospitals that were 3 hours away. I went to one hospital, trying to save money, and ended up leaving hours after arriving there. It was packed and there were people lying in the hallways. In the US, this would have been an emergency, but no one acted like it was an emergency. Finally, I was able to get her into the ER and was told that Evelyn needed a card to be admitted, so I went all over the hospital. In the meantime, my taxi driver was standing outside the ER. When I finally returned and got the card, he had tears in his eyes and then I heard Evelyn crying. I went into the ER and saw something no one should ever see.
While I was gone, the attending physicians and interns decided to try and “fix” her breast instead of waiting for her to have surgery. So they applied local anesthesia and began to cut. I won’t go into details because to this day, it makes me sick to my stomach, but when I saw her, she was soaked in blood…there was blood on the walls, pools of blood on the floor, and I was told that nothing else could be done that night and she would be put on the waiting list for surgery. Then they told me to go clean her up. I had to go find a wheelchair and ask where the nearest bathroom was. I won’t go into details either about the state of the bathroom, but at that point, I could care less. Several people crowded outside the door as if it was a movie. No one helped, just watched.
Finally, one nurse had a heart of compassion and came to help me. By this time, the blood had dried so the nurse found me some gloves and gauze and we began cleaning her up. Then we bandaged her chest area and put her back in the wheelchair. Sitting in that dirty bathroom, cleaning the blood off a lady that I just met the day before, I remember feeling so privileged to care for one of the least of these. I called my taxi driver and told him to come back, and I told the staff at the hospital that I was going to another hospital. They said I would have to pay a lot more money if I went somewhere else, but I told them I didn’t care how much it costs because no human should ever be treated the way that she was.
So we left the hospital with the IV still in, hung the IV bag on the door handle above the window, and drove to the other hospital where she received several blood transfusions, tested positive for HIV, and I had to deal with some doctors who didn’t want to do the surgery on an HIV positive person. To make a long story short, I let the doctors know what I thought about that, found someone else, and she had a successful surgery. As we spent more time together, she opened up about her personal life and her past. She accepted Christ and I was completely overwhelmed with God’s love for her. We were finally released and went back to Haiti.
Over the next few weeks, we would give her jobs such as braiding our girls’ hair so I would see her often. One day, she left town and never came back. For 6 years, I have prayed for her, wondering if she would ever return. This past Sunday, church was dismissed and when I turned around, Evelyn was right there! She said she never forgot what God had done for her.
As I write these stories and share my heart, I can’t stop thinking about eternal life and the promise we have that one day there is no more suffering, no more pain, no more shame, no more wondering, no more sleepless nights, no more tears…this life can be so hard. The Christian walk can be difficult. I see my family and my friends here in Haiti and America and all over the world going through struggles that are hard to understand. The past year and a half has been a season of learning what it means to trust God in the midst of not understanding Him. It is not easy at times, but it makes ALL the difference.
The older I get, the more I realize that I am such a sinner, in DESPERATE need of God’s grace…in DESPERATE need of His wisdom…in DESPERATE need of His presence. So my prayer for you and for me tonight is that we will be more aware of eternal life…that we will recognize God’s love for us…that we will recognize our need for a Savior…and that we will search out someone everyday that is in need of eternal life, in need of God’s love, and in need of a Savior.
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