"The Lord Rejoices to See the Work Begin."

There is so much that happens in a day here. I haven’t been able to write due to the fact that I have been extremely busy. Wadson and I have decided to work together to build public toilets for the people of Sainte-Hélène. I meet with the committee for the area and we will be starting our project as soon as possible.

The children in this ghetto go to the bathroom right outside their homes and in the trash piles. Three children have died of cholera in this area and many get sick. Something has to change. We will start with public bathrooms. 

I meet with the committee of the area and Wadson says it will cost a lot because people have to be hired to do so many things. I say that if people want to use these bathrooms then they need to chip in. They can haul rocks and dig a hole. If they’re not financially able to support then they can support by manual labor. The committee likes this idea and the bathrooms will begin tomorrow. I’m so excited. 

Wadson and I walk over to where they will go. Walk with me through this narrow pathway between small cement homes. It feels like a maze. We walk past women cooking over open fires and children squatting in the dust. Loud music playing on huge boomboxes. Bright white smiles and half braided heads. Walking to the hillside. 

This whole hillside is covered in garbage and feces. Pigs lay in every area of shade when they’re not digging through the trash looking for food. Children run barefoot through the trash with ragged clothes screaming and giggling. 

The bathroom will have 6 toilets. Its not enough for this community but its a start. Little by little. If we want to change the world all at once nothing will ever get done. However, little by little, we can change the world. Like the story Demi sent me about the sea stars. One by one. "It mattered to that one.” These toilets won’t matter to everyone but, as I look out over this sea of small grinning faces, I know they will matter to them. Small beginnings. “Do not despise these small beginnings for the Lord rejoices to see the work begin.” —Zechariah 4:10

A Wild One

Day at the beach with the orphans. What a wonderful experience. I always dread it if I’m actually being honest. I don’t really like the ocean. I love to see it and be near it but I don’t love to swim in it. Its sticky. I don’t like the sand because it gets everywhere. I love kids but something in me is aways distant when it comes to spending time with them. Maybe it's because I don’t want to break their hearts by loving them for a day, or maybe it's because I don’t want to break mine. 

We get picked up by the classic brightly painted Haitian bus. Benches are crooked and dirty. Rusty. Creaky. Open windows. Picking up the orphans. They are excited and ready. There is one little girl and she isn’t allowed to go with us because she was bad. I sneak around and talk to Darlen and convince her to let me take her. I don’t know her name but she’s stuck with me for the day. We all get on the bus. 35 sweet little buzzards. 

Most of the members of the team are covered in kids. I sit with Mackenzia and my little wild girl and all the kids start singing. Loud and beautiful. Their sweet little lips sticking way out as they over emphasize every word. My little girl is distant as she sits next to me saying nothing. I’ll leave her be until she’s ready to warm up to me. We are about halfway there and the kids are still singing at the top of their lungs. I feel a little hand slide behind my back. I look down and my little gal is snuggling her way over to me. She nestles her head on my chest and now she can’t get any closer. I like this little girl. I like that she’s a little wild and a little bit bad. I’m glad she’s with me. 

All the little kids strip down into their undies as soon as we park the bus and go screaming down the hill as rain sprinkles down on them. I don’t know if I can hold any more kids as I walk down the hill. Little hands grabbing onto my arms and waist and hands. They are covered in goosebumps. The ocean is cold but they don’t care. They jump in and roll in the sand and scream and splash in the ocean. I jump in with them, trying to hold them up as they get tossed about by the ocean. The sun comes out thank goodness. We all have little clingers hanging on us and each one wants to go farther and farther. They can’t swim and yet they are so brave and trusting. 

We play all sorts of games. Aunt Beck, Tori, Everett and Poppyseed are holding kids in the ocean. Sarah plays soccer with a group of boys. Sis holds a cold little girl. Mom builds sandcastles with a little group. After a couple hours I can tell the kids are getting tired. They all try to convince me they’re not but I know it's not the case. 

We load onto the bus and the kids are so quiet and tired. They are so precious. My little wild one snuggles on my lap and I hold her as tight as I can. Rain is pouring down. The kids start to sing with all their little tired hearts, loud and strained. 

My wild one starts dozing off. What is it about a kid falling asleep in your arms that is so wonderful? I feel it's wonderful because they are giving you all of them. They are totally placing their safety and lives in your hands. Unconsciously of course but it still gives us a feeling of being the protector, of holding something so precious and keeping it warm and happy and asleep. 

Her wild little short haired head laying against my chest. I wrap her up in mom's shawl and keep her as warm as possible. I wish I could make her feel this safe and loved every day. I wish that she could wake up in the morning to me making her eggs and toast. I wish I could give her a warm shower, wash all the sticky salt off, and cozy her up in a big quilt. I wish I could be more than just a fun blan at the beach. I wish I could love her like she needs to be loved. I wish I could love them all. Won't it be wonderful when we are all in heaven together and they are all dressed in the most beautiful clothes? When everyone feels the love of a family. The love of a Father. I can feel my throat closing up and my eyes get blurry. The bus stops outside the orphanage and I carry my little wild one into a 12x14 room that she shares with over 30 other little girls. I lay her down in her damp room on a piece of plywood covered with a sheet. My throat closes again and I wave goodbye to everyone to get back on the bus to go home. Someday little ones, someday you will feel a love deeper than you could ever fathom. I will wait for that day with you. I’m sorry I can’t do anything more for your precious selves. Goodbye my little wild one.

The Team Arrives

The team from the States are on their way. Sis and Louie from North Dakota, Beck and Sarah from Michigan, Tori from Indiana and Everett from New York. Mom and I have been working nonstop for the past five days to get the house ready for the team.

We don’t want everyone to have to stay in a hotel especially if the house is so close to being finished. We have bought beds and tables and chairs and painted and scrubbed and cleaned. They are 20 minutes away and the house is almost finished. I jump on Batakol and drive so fast to meet them to get the sheets so we can make the beds before they arrive. Today is the first day I’ve been able to drive since the accident. I can bend my knee enough now. The sheets will be the final touch. I meet the group's bus on the road and run onto the bus to give everyone a quick hug. A huge bag of sheets is strapped to the back of Batakol and I’m flying through the streets. I love driving fast on my shiny gold Batakol. I run inside and start making beds with Behbehghull. The bus is pulling up already! We still need about 10 minutes but oh well, we did our best. Poppyseed bought beautiful traditional wicker chairs in Port and they look perfect in here. The group looks exhausted but happy to be here. I think this will be a good group. Behbehghull and I worked so hard this week, but it has definitely paid off. 

I am relieved. I am going to stay here with the group this week I think. It’ll be easier that way. Everyone is wiped out and goes to sleep after eating. My mind is still racing but after a while I fall asleep as well. This bed is comfy and there aren’t any mosquitos here.

The Crash

I have to drive to Bonmon today because Manman’s uncle died and she has to attend the funeral. Mackenzy came over last night and told me not to go today. I ignored him. I wake up late and literally have to head right out the door, but I can’t find my key. Where did I put my key?! We search everywhere and upon finally finding it the three of us head out. We are on nice paved roads for a while. Up a hill and around a corner. As we round the corner there is a big oil spill and my back tire slides out and we are sliding on the pavement. Claemie! I jump up and look for Claemie. She is behind me, up and fine. Manman is fine. They don’t have a scratch on them. How is that possible? I look over each of them to make sure they are actually fine. Not a single scratch. I feel shaky and dizzy. I’m surrounded by people. Everyone is worried and coming over to check on me. I feel fine but I look down and blood is running down my arm and leg. I am wearing shorts because I woke up late. Too late to look for my jeans. Knowing Claemie and Manman are ok makes me feel fine so we start driving. I’ve been driving for maybe ten minutes and I start to see stars. An hour and a half left of driving to Bonbon and then I’ll have to return. Can I do it? I start driving really slowly as my eyes are giving out on me. I need to pull over. I’m going to make our Manman late for this funeral. Manman asks me why I’m driving so slowly and I tell her it’s because I can barely see. I pull over when I start to black out. I call Zee and Judelin and they are on their way. Judelin is going to take Manman to the funeral and Zee is going to take me home. Judelin arrives first and gets worried when he sees me so he decides to take me home. We are driving and meet Zee on the road. I have Claeme go with Zee and Judelin drives me all the way up to the house. I know I have to clean these wounds. They are full of gravel and oil and dust. What am I going to do if these get infected? Zee comes and tries to help me clean them. I dance around after we clean a few of them and it seems to help with the pain. I’d like to swear and punch someone but everyone has been so helpful. I’m officially useless now. I have to climb down the hill and bandage Dada. I can’t let her wounds get infected. The man down the hill still needs his wounds cleaned as well. I can’t bathe the mountain kids. My mind is blurry and a mess. What am I doing? I have so much to do! I’m laying on my bed with a towel underneath my wounds which are still bleeding.

I am absolutely useless. Thank you so much to Jude and Zee for taking care of me and taking Manman to Bonmon. “Sleeping” is a nightmare. I don’t sleep at all. At one point in the night my towel moved and now my blankets and sheets are covered in puss and blood. My leg is swollen and hot. I can’t wait for morning. But why? What is going to change when the sun rises? Nothing. I’ll still be laying here. Useless. The roosters are crowing and my visitors start coming in bright and early. I get all sorts of strange oils rubbed on my skin and wounds and people come in and touch and pray over me an hug me. Boiled papaya leaves cover my leg. I get trauma tea. My room is full of people from morning until night. It’s exhausting. The church services are loud. I hate laying here. My leg feels worse today than it did yesterday. The hours drag on. My leg is covered in puss and its yellow and green. I am miserable. Night comes and my last visitor leaves at 10:30. Another sleepless night. At 2 in the morning I get out of bed because I am tired of feeling liquid from my wounds running down my leg and I want to bandage my wounds.

When morning comes on this third day I am beyond miserable. I want to bawl my eyes out. What am I doing here just wasting my time? People need me! What will all my patients do if I’m not there to take care of them? My wounds look terrible this morning. My knee is bright white and bloody. What is that white stuff on there?

Scrubbing my knee is painful. I can barely walk today. My knee is now double the size of my other. I am supposed to pick mom up at the airport tomorrow. What am I going to do? How am I going to get there? I already bought my bus ticket. By nighttime I can barely move my leg and have to tell Papa that I can’t go. He looks and me with a look saying “Duh. Of course you can’t go.” When I wake up this morning I look down at my knee. It has a purple outer ring followed by a red ring and it is so hot. The soft scabs are white and green. If I stay here with all these people touching me and my leg all the time I will never get clean and my leg will get more infected. I have to get to Port. Poppyseed messages me and says theres a flight out that I can get on from Jeremie to Port for free today at 3:00. Miracle! Yes. I’ll do it. Everyone thinks I’m an idiot for leaving. I have to pick mom up and I have to take a clean shower. I have to get clean. Hiking down this mountain is painful. Step by step. Zee is waiting for me at the bottom of the hill. Please don’t fall. Please don’t fall. The motorcycle ride is even more painful. It takes us 45 minutes and every bump is awful. The sun dries and cracks the puss on my leg. Into the little puddle jumper plane I go. My knee is somewhat bent inside and this 45 minute plane ride feels like the longest of my whole life. To the airport I go to meet behbehghull (moms nickname) and I sit inside until she comes out. It is so awesome to see her. We talk and laugh and go to the hotel. The hotel is expensive and so we will leave either tomorrow or the day after. I take a hot bath and soak all my wounds and clean them. It feels amazing. I actually feel clean. Sidenote: During the riots about Guy Phillipe a soldier, originally from Haiti and stationed overseas for the American military, was reading the news and read about a crazy white girl who joined the riots in Haiti. He wrote me thanking me for what I did and we talked about our dreams and goals for Haiti. Well, he emailed the hotel mom and I were staying at and paid for the entire rest of the week so that I would be forced to recover. So, thank you Solda for that. Thank you for being such a blessing. I appreciate it, so so much. Zee checks on Dada and says she is doing fine. Her leg looks good. I needed to crash my bike. I needed to be cooped up for days. I needed to be wounded. I needed all these things to happen to realize that with or without me, God will continue to take care of his people. I had begun to think I was too important and what would people do if I wasn’t there to take care of them. I am not invincible. I am not a hero. I am not unstoppable. I was at one of the lowest lows I’ve ever felt. I was absolutely useless. Humbling. This accident has humbled me and made me remember who is actually in control. I’m just a tool to be used whenever and wherever possible. So, thank you God for slowing me down and thank you Solda for paying for our week. Mom and I are bored out of our minds at this hotel but we are still having a blast laughing and watching tv shows and eating peanut m&ms. By the way… thank you so much Danielle Gilbert for the reeses and bags of m&ms. Love you! Sorry I haven’t been blogging Dana, I’ve been super busy!

Take My Heart Lord

Washing dishes. Zee and Manman making sure we are doing it right. Marcy and I laughing so hard for no reason while squatting over these dishes. As soon as we are finished we hike up the mountain to find sweet little Betsayina. Definitely the wrong spelling but we’re going to have to roll with it. Immediately we are surrounded by kids from all over the mountainside. Some hanging off our arms and some wrapped around our waists. Yelling and giggling.

Bandaging Dada has become more of a dance party than anything else. We meet and every single day is like it's the first time we’ve seen each other in years. We jump up and down and laugh and everyone talks at once. We dance and dance. Marcy dances and sings and Dada wraps her arms around her. I love these daily dance bandage parties.

Crochet class is a total success. Marcy and I teach a huge group to crochet and it's so much fun. I love it. The boys are such fast learners! It's so cool to watch these teenage boys love to crochet. Im thankful Marcy is here to help me with this.

After crochet we decide to go to Zee's to escape another church service. Shhh don’t tell anyone ;) We are sitting on the peaceful porch when I just feel like I need to sing. I go inside his house because the echo is so good. I start to sing. I don’t know how long I have been singing but I can’t stop. Song after song are coming to me and I haven’t felt the Holy Spirit like this in so long. I am overwhelmed. I end up on my knees. When I finally open my eyes Marcy is singing with me. I had no idea she even came in. We just sit on the floor in silence. Man it feels so wonderful to sing. I feel so open when I sing, like I am giving all of me, everything that I am, my whole heart. Blan is handicapped and even though he was trying so hard in class last night to crochet, it was just taking him longer than the other kids. I asked him to come this morning so I could show him without everyone around. We try over and over. When I see him starting to get it I watch his face. His eyes glow and a huge smile crosses his face. He is so proud and happy. Marcy and I hold back tears. It's a beautiful thing.

Today is my wonderful Bloat Toad's birthday Judelin! Happy birthday Judelin! After bathing Betsayina and bandaging Dada Marcy and I decide to go downtown and buy a cake. I see cakes in Lori's shop every time I’m in there so it’ll be an easy day because after we drop it off we will be free to do whatever for the rest of the day. Through all the aisles. No more cakes. Tomorrow they will have cakes again. Tomorrow isn’t today. We check Kay st Fleur and they are out of cakes as well. If any of you know Marcy, you know she can bake like the wind. If any of you know me, you know I suck at baking. Never succeed. Marcy is organized in her baking and I feel I should be able to do what I want with batter or dough. So, rather than admit defeat, we decide to bake a cake. We buy all the supplies including two eggs and head back to Papa's house. Marcy is on the back of Batakol (my bike) clutching our baking supplies and the thin little plastic bag of eggs.

The hill to the house has never looked more treacherous. Marcy can’t hold on to anything due to the fact that she has handfuls of groceries and can’t break the eggs. Up the hill we go free and clear! We made it. I don’t want to say I’m surprised, but I am. We laugh hysterically as we Haitian style bake a cake. No electricity. No proper baking pans. Homemade frosting out of who knows what. With her actual baking skills and my it’ll be fine mentality we bake a cake. And guess what? IT IS AMAZING. It’s so good.

Now Marcy has to balance the cake down the hill. She does it! If this triple layer cake makes it all the way to Judelin's house on the back of my bike with me and Marcy I’m going to be shocked. Every bump we check it to make sure nothing is falling and…we make it. Judelin loves it. What a fun little thing.

I have seen more horrible creatures during Marcy's visit than I have ever seen here before. This week, a mouse crawled down her back while she was sleeping. A rat fell out of the rafters onto her bed right by her feet. We had an infestation of ants that bit her all over. There were more mosquitoes than ever before. Tons of geckos. Huge moths flapping on our mosquito nets in the night. So many mice. Cockroaches crawling over the walls. A tree frog on my bed. Hugh spiders in the bathroom. I have no idea why but I’m thankful she is an amazing sport. For some reason she couldn’t sleep very well after the mouse ran down her back. Not sure why...

Poppyseed is in Jeremie and Dan from Faithwire is flying to Jeremie to come check it out! I am going to pick him up at the airport. This is a hoot. He is broken in the right way on the back of my motorcycle on this terrible pothole central airport road. He’s traveled all over so Haiti is not a shock for him, but it's the little things that are fun just the same. He follows me everywhere just doing what I do. We have a blast.
The container has finally arrived in Jeremie! Poppyseed is so relieved! He has worked so hard trying to get it here. Spent so much time and money. He has been stressed and worried for it. Nothing is ever simple in Haiti so he is so relieved that after his hard work it will finally pay off.

The pastors of the churches are so excited to get the supplies. Thank you everyone for your donations. Now the people in the remote villages will receive their building supplies! And thank you to my folks who kept it up and never gave up even when it was discouraging. Right when I think my day is over its time for another house call. Poppyseed, Dan, Zee and I head down the mountainside to Manel's house.

Manel's uncle has seizures throughout the day and will end up falling down the cliffs. Manel's house is built on the side of a cliff. His home consists of scraps of tin nailed shoddily together. Their floor is dirt and a small oil lamp glows dimly on a makeshift bedside table. A dusty bed is kept off the floor by a bed frame consisting of bricks, wood and odds and ends. The uncle comes and sits on the bed. His whole forehead is scabbed over. His shoulder is infected and his right leg also has cuts and scrapes. I clean his wounds and sing to him when he starts to cry. Poppyseed joins me and I am completely caught in the moment. I often forget the feeling I get when I sing with my family until I sing with one of them again. I am so happy Poppyseed hiked down this mountain with us even though he is tired.

Poppyseed has a beautiful voice and one of my favorite things growing up was when he and mom would sing for us at night. I remember when we lived in Jeremie and they would sing the same song we are singing right now. We would all sit on our bed with a dim oil lamp just like this one and we would listen to this song. “Take my heart of stone away. Put a new one in its place. Let it be more like your own. Take my heart, Lord take my heart.” Now, twenty years later we are singing it together again, in Jeremie, sitting on this family's bed, with a dim oil lamp flickering and casting dancing shadows against the wall. This precious man raises his hands in the air and hums along with us. His eyes are closed and he is worshipping with all his heart. Dan, Poppyseed and Zee pray for him and we say goodnight. We hike back up the hill and Richard's mom is waiting for us on top of the mountain. She wraps her arms around me and I just hug her. I hold her. She doesn’t let go of me. We all stand on top of the mountain in silence looking up at the stars. I am overwhelmed with love and gratitude for being alive in this very moment.

My throat closes and tears stream down my face. No one knows nor do they need to. I am just accepting this moment. Her head against my chest and my arms wrapped around her. The stars bright and fiery above us. Walking back to Papa’s. Another wounded hand waiting for me to clean. I’ll take it. I’ll take every infection. I’ll take the lack of sleep. Every scabies baby. Every sweaty hike. Every hopeful person. Every bucket shower. Every cockroach. Every cup of overly sweet strong black coffee. Every smile. Every smell. Every ounce of dust covering my feet. Every part of Haiti. The good with the bad. I’ll take it with open arms. Every part.

Dan, Poppyseed and I had a good weekend. It was awesome to have them here. They left this morning. Thank you Dan for taking the time to go where people don’t want to go. For wanting to experience things as they are. For not minding living like the people. For being up for anything. For writing things as they truly are. For taking the time to ask questions and wait for the answer. I’m excited to see what you do with it. Thanks for coming.

This moto. I’m so glad I have it. Flying through the streets late at night is my absolute favorite. I suppose its a lot of things that make it so wonderful to me. No one is in the streets and the people that are can’t see that I’m blan. It's the only time I can fully see Jeremie through the eyes of a Haitian. No one notices me or yells or watches my every move. I can fly through the streets and trails and past shops and homes without a single head turning. Its also the only time I’m ever truly alone. No one knows where I am or what I’m doing. Just me and a road or a trail. There is one specific strip that I can really fly on. I stand up on my bike and kick it into 3rd then 4th. My hair is blowing straight back and smoke from a nearby fire burns my eyes. I feel so free. So so so free. I have a huge smile on my face and I can feel the dust on my teeth. I am thankful for Batakol. I am so thankful to be here. I am so thankful to be free.

No Place on Earth We'd Rather Be

Starting the day out at the hospital to find the sweet little boy who can’t walk. As Marcy and I enter the hospital the sweet guard is sitting there. He has been asking for a bible for three weeks now and I still haven’t been able to find one. We give him money to buy one and he says he can’t wait to show us his new bible when we come back. The little boy has been taken to a different hospital. I wish I had his contact information. I feel like a failure. Like I didn’t do all that I could. Why didn’t I come sooner? I remember his deep sad eyes looking up at me. He is what we call a restavik kid. When a family can’t afford to keep their kids they give them to someone better off and they are used basically as slaves. Not in all cases but in many. That little boy was a restavik kid. He stayed with a man that took “care” of him, but when he had his accident he was dropped off at the hospital and his real dad came to spend some time with him. The story of how he got so badly hurt changed every time I went to visit him. I whispered to him one time asking if he was afraid. He quickly looked at his dad and then looked away. He stood up one time with Aunt Beck and I but only for a few moments. He wouldn’t speak when his dad was around. He didn’t want to be healed. He didn’t want to walk again because it meant he would go right back to where he was. He was so hollow and depressed. Where is he now? Why didn’t I do more? Why am I so useless? Why don’t I have a house here where I can take in little souls like this. This is when I have to remember how small I am. How I only can do so much until I just let God take care of it. He is so much bigger than me. He loves that little boy more than I ever could. I always say I’m just doing all that I can with the time that I have. However, in this instance, I didn’t do all that I could with the time that I had. I will continue to pray for him and his most precious life and I ask that you would do the same. God is bigger than me. So. So. So. Much. Bigger. Leaving the hospital to visit Dada and put fresh bandages on her leg. Her wound needs to dry out a little bit so what better time to dance? I am joined by Dada's feisty aunt. We dance and dance and soon have a little crowd laughing and squealing for joy. Marcy laughs at me and films us. Dada's feisty aunt forgets her hurt ankle and dances and laughs and hugs me. We enter the little house again and Marcy and I bandage Dada's wound and tease her. Marcy dances and makes her laugh as I bandage. She smiles at us with her big beautiful teeth. The house is full of family members. The air is sticky and dirty. The tarp still hangs low touching the top of my head. Flies swarm my legs. Fresh clean bandages cover her leg and I love the look of it. It makes me so happy to see. So white against the dark maroon sheets.

Marcy and I walk to one of the leaders' house because he said he has some land he wants to show me. Marcy hops on with his bodyguard and he hops on with me. We drive to Testas and he shows us the piece of land. It’s a really peaceful place but I’m looking for a larger piece. We sit in what seems to be an abandoned restaurant but someone appears out of nowhere to bring us drinks. I told mama we would be home to help cook and then go pray with her on the mountain so it is time to leave.

Flying on the roads back to Jeremie. Marcy laughing at the bodyguard's little moto backfiring and giving me the look of “what are we doing." No matter what we’re doing, there is no place either of us would rather be.

Arriving back at home Marcy and I settle down to help cook. Cutting and frying banan. Juicing shadek to make the best juice ever. Tasting sauce. Making sure the Piklis has enough spice. We sit down to eat and Marcy is able to video chat with Chris (her husband.) Papa and Manman are so happy to talk to him. We all miss him and wish he was here. Chris and Marcy have been such a wonderful blessing in not just Papa and Mama's life but in my life as well. When I was living in the back of my truck in the middle of winter, they filled rubbermaid tubs with groceries and filled my gas tank. Bought me a new cot and have been there whenever I needed someone. I wish Chris was here, we all do, but he will be here soon hopefully. It was a perfect dinner. All of us talking and teasing. We are late for the prayer meeting up the mountain so we finish up and start up the mountain. I am bombarded by sweet little kids everywhere, all yelling my name. I didn’t even know I knew all the kids up here. Hugs and sticky kisses.

Sweaty little hands touching my face and arms. We hike until we are almost to the top of the mountain. We enter a sweet little yard covered in crab grass. A little garden with a few stalks of corn and herbs occupies a corner. The home is small but beautiful. Little by little the women all arrive and we start to sing. A little girl with a baby on her hip leading a blind woman stand in the entranceway.












This little girl led this blind woman all the way up the mountain for the prayer meeting. The woman sits in a chair pulled up for her and I beckon to the little girl to come sit with me. Marcy and I are sitting on the crab grass. Not the most comfortable but it’ll have to do:)

The little girl comes and sits next to me and the little girl on her hip is terrified of me. In areas like this, little kids are often scared of white people because of never having seen them before. I smile and hold out my hand. She is apprehensive at first, staring at me with huge beautiful brown eyes. Her head is shaved due to a skin disease. She doesn’t have any bottoms on and is wearing a ragged dirty brown shirt. She sneakily and quickly grabs my hand. I stretch my arm out and she is willing to sit with me. I snuggle her little self and kiss her little forehead.

Her sister snuggles up beside me as well. I realize I am still in a prayer meeting and join in in prayer and songs. It is a beautiful picture. Marcy and I sitting up here with these wonderful women. Praying and singing and spending time together. Marcy moves to sit with the sister and she holds her hands and looks at them over and over.

Looking at her fingernails and her knuckles. Smoothing her skin with her sweaty hands. Marcy just wraps her arms around her and we finish the meeting.

Walking down the mountain with this little precious on my hip. The sister takes us to her house and I talk to her mama. 

She can’t get enough water to bathe her little babe every day to get rid of this little skin disease. I tell her I’ll be back in the morning to pick her up to give her a bath at my house. Marcy and I walk back down the mountain with the group of women and eventually it's just us and Mama and Madam Figaroe. As soon as we walk into the door, Fre Ejen is there to have his finger bandaged again and he says there is a boy right down the hill who was just in a bike accident who needs his wounds taken care of. Into the room Marcy and I go to pack up my medical bag. Down the side of the mountain we go in the dark of the night. We duck under branches and jump over fallen palm trees. Through the goat trails in the jungle. Marcy and I laugh so hard at Fre Ejen's pace. He is speed walking down and up these hills. The boy is right down the mountain…lies. Where in the world are we going? The stars are bright and beautiful. Arriving near some homes and through little alleyways until we reach my patient. Squatting in the dirt to clean his wounds. One of the wounds is on his butt cheek and I tell him the drop his pants. The whole audience, Marcy and I are in an uproar. Laughing so hard. He does so without hesitating and I’m glad he did because that was the only infected little wound. No sooner have I put the last bandage on him, another patient comes our way. She burned her hand so I just put some burn cream on it and give her some for tomorrow. Back up the mountain and down and up and down and up we go. We get ourselves ready to go sleep at the orphanage. After such a long day I will admit sleeping on a concrete floor doesn’t sound the best. However, we go anyway. Papa drives us on my bike. Walking down the little alleyway to the gate made of old tin roofing patched together. Little voices sing loudly for their nighttime worship. Marcy and I sit on the cement porch with them and listen. Their little voices are loud and clear. They sing with every piece of themselves and every ounce of their little hearts. Marcy and I are exhausted and all I want to do is go to sleep. I am convinced by a couple kids to play Osle with them. 

I start a game but no sooner have I started when the door to their bedroom is opened. There are 57 children in this orphanage. The boys share a 10x12 room and the girls share a 10x12 room as well. A couple sheets are laid out on the floor for the kids to sleep on. Marcy and I nestle down and little girls from all directions come trying to cuddle closer and closer. 

Is it possible to get any closer? I write a song down for Lotez and we sing together. She has a beautiful voice. Marcy has a dozen little girls trying to do her hair and it’s terrible. 

Every year Marcy gets her hair done it's worse and worse. This year she has corn rows in a combover with half of her hair fluffing out the side. So so hideous. Little hands and sticky little foreheads cover every square inch of me and it's so hot in here. They are all sweating, but no one wants to let go. Little by little the room fills up with all the orphan girls. Each one trying to get as close as possible. 

My heart is so full. I can feel myself getting choked up but I don’t want to discourage them by crying so I keep it together. I can’t move at the moment to see Marcy, but she says she is covered in kids. 

Life is perfect. I wrap my arms around as many precious kids as possible. Why aren’t my arms longer? Why aren’t my hands bigger? Why isn’t my heart stronger? You are loved. You are perfect. You are more than enough. You are beautiful. Cement floor. Dirty sheets. Sweaty bodies. Little feet. Holding hands. Every breath. Little heart beats. Little heads against my chest. I am so content. Am I going to get any sleep tonight? Probably not. Is it absolutely worth it? Yes. With every ounce of me, yes. I fall asleep with them. 

The room is completely shut with a single oil lamp glowing brightly on a shelf. Marcy and I and over thirty kids packed on this floor, as tight as can be. So hot I can barely breathe. Someone pukes on my feet. Someone pees on Marcys head. And yet, there's no place on earth we’d rather be.