Adventures in Haiti, Part 3: Savanne

The Church in Savanne is a place with an incredible story of revival. But I will have to share that story another time.

In Savanne I met Jessica, a shy and sweet 17 year-old, as I was working triage.

She began to tell me more than just her physical symptoms. At first I didn't connect with what she was saying and wasn't sure what to do with the information she was sharing with me. I was wondering if I should send her on her way to the doctors, but then, through my translator Ezekiel and our team leader Ted, I learned that her parents had died in the earthquake of 2010 and their bodies may not have been found. She lived with her grandma, but something had happened so that now she was on her own living with friends. She wants to go to Church but feels she can't because she only has the 1 skirt that she now wears, and no Sunday clothes to wear. She asks that I pray for her heart and for her to be able to go to school next year, because she hasn't been able to. School costs and she has not been in a few years and it is seemingly impossible for her to go without a lot of assistance.
After I finish praying, I tell her that I will get her connected with the Pastor of the Church to make sure she can get the help she needs and make sure she gets the clothes she needs to come to Church. The interpreter tells me she is crying, so I just stand there rubbing her back. I don't know this kind of grief but when we meet as a team that night and there are so many other needs shared one after another, I weep for her loss and for others who have lost so much, who have experienced so many forms of injustice.
Pray with me for those in Haiti like Jessica who may have a physical need, but ultimately need the comfort, hope and love that only a relationship with Jesus Christ can offer. I pray that God would work in Jessica's heart and the hearts of the men, women and children we met, that they would have seen God's love for them through the time we had with them.

  

One of two stop lights I saw in Haiti (the only one I saw working)

Adventures in Haiti, Part 2: Cavillion

On Sunday, we went to the Church Bon Berge in Les Cayes and were led in worship with the familiar songs "Wonderful Merciful Savior" and "Holy Holy" (Worthy is the Lamb) being sung in Creole. I couldn't stop the tears from coming as I was struck by the beauty of our Savior, who isn't just the God of the U.S. believers, but who is the God over all nations. He is being worshiped in countless languages today. I look forward to the days in which we will get to worship with all of our brothers and sisters in Christ from around the world, in Heaven.

We went to the evening service at the Cambry Church where the children from the Cambry Orphanage attend.

  On Monday we went to Cavillion Orphange not far from where we stayed.

Living space for the children.

Triage table and the pavilion where the doctors saw patients.

Beautiful mountain scenery all around us.

The school of Cavillion

 I was able to assist with Triage and Judin helped me interpret. He is from Haiti but now lives in Canada most of the year, coming back once or twice a year. With his experience I hardly had to ask the patient's questions before he knew exactly what to ask next in Creole. I was thankful, but felt a little silly and inadequate not knowing any basic Creole. I kept thinking he must think I am pretty useless, but he never treated me that way. Instead he acted grateful for my presence and told me he hoped that I'd be back and that maybe we'd see each other again next year.

Triage and Photographing the Orphans for sponsorship.

Ted praying with one of the men.

Waiting their turn for a scabies wash, new clothes, and to see the doctor.

Does he not have the most beautiful eyes and smile?

One of my favorite pictures. She was so sweet. One of my first friends from the week.

They are all cute, but he was the cutest littlest boy!

Sweet Judlynne

Draining an infected knee wound. Bravest girl I know took on the pain without any pain relievers.

This little toddler would just wander around doing his own thing!

Proud of his drawing!

   These kids literally have so little, that to give them anything means so much to them. They went crazy over the stickers and bubbles we gave them. Before I left I wrote my name on Judlynne's paper she had colored that day and I pointed to it and her bright, beautiful smile light up her entire face. I stuck my duck tape "name tag" on the little boy in the yellow shirt and he gave me this big smile. I'm thankful to hear that their health has improved so much and that they are finally getting more beans to supplement their rice diet. After this day the Haiti children found a big place in my heart.

Finding Joy in Ukraine-by Elly West

Finding Joy in Ukraine

There is a difference between happiness and joy that one can only truly appreciate, having experienced before what true joy feels like. I am talking about the joy that can only come from the Holy Spirit, the joy that martyrs have when facing severe persecution. The joy that is wrapped up and hidden in the hope of Heaven, the treasure that awaits after this life has ended. I am not claiming to have lived that joy completely, but I think I saw a glimpse of it during the month I spent in Ukraine. What I felt there was not happiness, though at times I was happy. Since happiness is based on circumstances, there wouldn't have been much to make me happy. I was overseas, away from and without communication to my family or my soon-to-be fiance. I was not "serving" in the location I desired when I began raising money for a mission trip. I was dirty every day, allowed to shower maybe once a week. The food was pretty gross, in all honesty, and I was hungry often. I was tired -- physically tired from lack of sleep, and emotionally tired from having to be patient with the constant needs and companionship of the kids.

So for the first couple of days, it was pretty natural to grumble and wonder what we all were doing in this summer camp with these orphan children. It was overwhelming how much they needed our attention sometimes. I was assigned to a group with the oldest teenagers at camp, and that was something else I didn't appreciate initially. Most of them spoke very little English and would often point, giggle and whisper to each other in a way that made me self-conscious that they were making fun of me. Some of them were rude and rolled their eyes; some were overly clingy and always hanging on my arm or calling for me outside the dorm windows.

But I soon began to love the sounds of their voices yelling my name during the afternoon rest time. I needed to sleep, but I couldn't help it -- I had to throw on my shoes and run down to the dusty soccer field for another game with them. Soon I was waking in the mornings with hungry anticipation for that one dry piece of bread we were always served at breakfast. Soon I could care less about wearing my same old dirty clothes every day, and tying my greasy (and lice-infested, as I later discovered) hair into a ponytail or braids again. There was something like joy in my heart.

I think true joy, aside from being something only the Holy Spirit can give, comes from the knowledge of your purpose for this life. As a Christian the purpose for this life should have very little to do with circumstances. Money and jobs can be lost or taken away; people can be selfish and hurtful; things and beauty -- they fade and become worthless. All of these things that make up the circumstances of our life can only bring temporary happiness -- not genuine joy.

In Ukraine I learned that I didn't need things or perfect circumstances to spend each day with joy. I fell in love with the faces of those children, and I carry their faces with me. I still hear their voices in my head, now over ten years later. I remember vividly the day Sasha sacrificially gave me his Snickers bar, and how I could see his smile as I ran to hug him in gratitude. I remember that cherished moment when Alona handed me her gold necklace, how she pressed it into my hand, tears in her eyes the night before we had to say goodbye. I remember that precious conversation with Stas on the bank of the river when he asked if we would see each other again; and how I told him I pray that we will in Heaven. And in all my days, old as I get, I will never ever forget my beautiful friend Luiza. Hers was the goodbye that cut me most deeply. She pleaded with me not to go, she pounded the windows as our bus drove away... forever.

I knew joy those hot July days. I woke with a sense of my purpose -- that today God has called me to love these children who have experienced so much pain in their lives. Today God wants me to demonstrate to these kids the love that He has for all of His children. We had long walks through the woods, staring up into the giant trees; and I dreamt of the beauty of Heaven. I thought of it there more than I ever had before; I imagined how it would be to see these beautiful faces again. I cried all the time for their circumstances; I was humbled again and again with how generously they gave of their very few possessions. Those kids taught me that showing God's love to those who need it most is what brings real joy. I was created -- not for acquiring

possessions or grand accomplishments. Striving after wealth, beauty, status, approval or recognition will always only bring temporary satisfaction. I am a creature not of this world, and so the circumstances surrounding me in this life will never give me joy.

Joy is in walking with the Holy Spirit, leaning in to His whispers and faithfully following the path set before me. Joy is in holding the hand of a teenager everyone else treats as an outcast. Joy is in playing soccer with children who all their lives have been in want of a parent's loving, undivided attention. Joy is in letting them braid my hair, laugh at my accent, ask me questions I can't understand -- just because I am spending time with them and showing them the love of God.

Joy is in the dreams of Heaven, the place of my true belonging, where I hope to see their faces again.

Written by: Elly West