OUT OF DARKNESS

co-written with Kristi Bucher

Every once in a while in life, you meet a soul unlike any other. One that makes you wish you where a little more like them, and that somehow after spending time with them, a bit of their sweetness will rub off on you. Manita is one of those people. She possesses the kindest and most gentle soul with a heart so unbelievably in love with Jesus. 

As a child growing up in the village of Cabaret, Manita would dance at voodoo ceremonies. She worshipped Satan, the same as the rest of her family. She didn’t know any differently.

Then Manita started attending Grace Emmanuel School in 2005. Her family had heard of a new, free school for their daughter to attend and enrolled Manita in 2nd grade at the age of 10.

At Grace Emmanuel School Manita heard about Jesus. She remembers a man named Manela who would lead devotions every day for all the students. It was during one of these devotions in 2009 that she made the decision to follow Christ. She had seen death in voodoo, but in Jesus, she found life. She says it was by the grace of God that she became a Christian.

A few years ago, Manita’s family moved to Bon Repos and she almost had to quit school because of the daily cost to travel the distance. Staff encouraged her to continue and assured her God would provide, and He has proved faithful.

Now 21 years old and in 12th grade, Manita expects to graduate next year (high school in Haiti goes through 13th grade) and would like to study to become a pediatrician. She is a quiet leader of the whole student body. She sings beautifully, stays out of trouble, and is always near the top of her class.

I ask Manita if I can visit one day as we are driving to Bon Repos from school. She leads me to the two-room wooden structure where she lives with her mom, uncle, his wife, and their three children. She shares a full-size bed with her mother in a small room also shared with her three young cousins.

Her mom is not home, and Manita tells me she will be at the local market selling beans until dusk.

Seven years after putting her faith in Christ, Manita is the only Christian in her family. Her mom still believes in Satan and practices voodoo.

I ask her if this is hard. “I used to talk to my family about Jesus and tell them that He is coming back, but they won’t believe. I tell my mom that Jesus loves her and wants to give her life. My mom says she wants to believe in Jesus, but she still hasn’t.”

Curious about her father, I ask about him. She says he used to practice voodoo as well. In 2006, he became very ill and bed-ridden. Because of this, neighbors came to visit and shared the gospel with him. Before dying in 2007, he gave his life to Christ.

I leave her home encouraged. Manita’s story is one that speaks of bright light in the midst of darkness. What Satan meant for destruction, Jesus meant for life! What a wonderful reminder that the enemy has no dominion over who belongs to Him.

“But you are a chosen people, a royal priesthood, a holy nation, God’s special possession, that you may declare the praises of Him who called you out of darkness into His wonderful light” (1 Peter 2:9). 

A month or so after I visit her home, I receive word that her mother is ill and needs to go to the doctor. She is in a lot of pain and cannot walk because of her inability to move her left arm or leg. I feel in my heart that I am called to lend a helping hand. After a few trips to a nearby clinic, we find out she is suffering from paralysis due to hypertension. Her elderly body is literally wasting away. 

Myself and many others who know the situation continue to pray with expectation. We are confident that God, according to his perfect will, has the ability to heal both physically and spiritually. 

A few weeks go by and I receive the greatest news of all. After spending a lifetime practicing voodoo and worshiping Satan, her mother has finally given her life to Christ! She may not be healed physically, but she has been saved from the dominion of darkness! As Manita put it, "all the glory belongs to God!"

"So we do not lose heart. Though our outer self is wasting away, our inner self is being renewed day by day." (2 Corinthians 4:16)

CUTIE PATOOTIES

These cutie patooties were hanging in the nurses office, and so I thought I'd snatch them up for a little photo shoot. They absolutely loved getting their pictures taken. And I don't know about you, but this giggle fest is probably the most adorable thing I've ever seen. 

"Not that I have already obtained this or am already perfect, but I press on to make it my own, because Christ Jesus has made me his own. Brothers, I do not consider that I have made it my own. But one this I do: forgetting what lied behind and straining forward to what lies ahead. I press on toward the goal for the prize on the upward call of God in Christ Jesus." (Philippians 3:12-14)

This is oh so relevant for me right now. Life here has been so ridiculously challenging. It's difficult to see a fruitful future what you're stuck in the heart of a treacherous storm. The words straining and press on give the impression that doing so what no easy. And that's where I find myself. It's not easy to strain forward when simply surviving the current seems impossible. 

But, I'm choosing to take Paul up on his challenge to press on.  And I do not take on this challenge alone, for Jesus has made me his own and I absolutely need him.

IT IS FATE

I pull out of the school yard, unsure of who I was going to visit. I knew I wanted to visit students, I just didn’t know who. To give myself time to think, I decide to get a fresco (a frozen Haitian treat) from the market nearby. As Sonson and I pull up to park, three students appear: Loudemia, Dana Leïda, and little Fritznerline. It is fate; I am supposed to visit them. 

As we head through the market to get fresco, they two older girls tell me their mother works in the market and we walk over to pay her a visit. I asked if we could visit their home, she says yes. But when they tell us where they live, Sonson is unsure if we should go. They live in an unsafe area in the midst of gang activity, and apparently it is not the best place to visit. However, I can't imagine why God would prohibit me from visiting these precious students just because of my potential physical danger. Feeling lead by the Spirit, we decide to go anyways. And knowing this may not be the safest feat, I pray. I let God know that I trust him, I trust that He is with us, and ask that He would protect us. I also send a quick message to a friend for some extra backup. 

We pull up to their street and I get out of the car. Loudemia grabs ahold of my arm with a protective grip. Although she is only 13, she possesses strength and confidence as she leads me through the narrow ally ways. I feel safe. 

Soon after, we arrive to their dark, hot, two-room home. Their mother had walked from her work at the market to meet us there. We sit and chat awhile with the her and the three girls. We find out Loudemia’s father had passed away and Dana Leïda’s father is not present. Fritnerline is her granddaughter, and lives in the home along with her young mother. Her father is present, but does not live in the home. She tells us that that she, all 9 children, and one grandchild live together in this home. I do the math and figure out that is a total of 11 people in this small house with 4 beds to share. 

I ask who provides for this family and she replies, "me and God."

While sitting in their presence in there home, I sense joy. I am amazed that in the midst of poverty, physical danger, and sorrow, this family still chooses to trust God - our provider, protector, and comforter. This is a true testimony that our circumstances do not have to determine our joy, God does. 

FRANTZY

I am in the school office around lunch time when I hear someone crying loudly in the yard.

Frantzy, a first grader, is walking up the hill towards the office with his hand over his face, trying to catch the blood that is gushing from it. I yell for Marie-Lyne, our nurse, who pulls him into the nurse’s station and begins to clean and wrap his wound. He has the deepest cut I have ever seen outside his right eye. She informs me he will need to get stitches today, and we will need permission from a guardian to take him to the clinic.

I tell Frantzy, “We need to call your mom. Do you know her phone number?” 

He shakes his head no. “My mom is dead.”

He tells me his father is alive, but his elderly grandmother takes care of him. An aunt ends up coming in her place.

We sit at the clinic together and wait for hours. I have time to get to know Frantzy a little bit better and find out he loves to play soccer and he wants to be a doctor one day. He is nine years old and will turn ten in a couple weeks.

 When the doctor finally starts to give Frantzy the stitches, I stay with him because his aunt proves unable to stomach the procedure.

As I sit next to the bed with my hand on his shoulder, another woman in the room asks if I am his mother. I laugh and say no, but sober when I remember Frantzy doesn’t have a mother. He doesn’t have a mother to help him get ready for school in the morning or prepare him breakfast. He doesn’t have a mother to stay with him while he gets stitches, or check the wound every day while it heals.

A couple weeks later, we visit his home. I am eager to learn more of his story. We all crowd into his small home, partly demolished by the earthquake, and are warmly greeted by his grandmother. The room is hot and barely large enough for the two beds and their few possessions. Though the sun shines brightly outside, there is only one small window and no electricity, making it very dark inside.

This is where Frantzy lives with his 79-year-old grandmother and a cousin who was left severely disabled after an illness.

Frantzy’s grandmother has been widowed for over 20 years. She makes and sells coffee every morning to earn a living. She explains that Frantzy’s mother died when he was young. Although she doesn’t say why he is unable to live with his father, we learn that he sees him often and he helps provide.

As we leave, she thanks us for taking Frantzy to the hospital even though she wasn’t able to give us money to do so. We assure her that we love him very much and our school is happy to help our students. Frantzy’s story is one of many at Grace Emmanuel School filled with brokenness. All of the students live in poverty, and many without a mom or dad present. His story is not unique. Yet, though many of our students face daily tribulation, we know that God sees them, knows them, and loves them deeply.

TAKE HEART

It’s officially been 10 months since moving to Haiti; and let me tell you, it has been quite the stretching experience thus far. The last few months have been especially trying. Thankfully, this past month, I was able to go on a vacation to my old home in Southern California. It was wonderful to see many friends and family, as well as conjure up some much needed rest.

After returning home to Haiti, I climbed the mountain (it's  more like a hill, but mountain sounds more adventurous) behind our school property. As I was sitting on the top overlooking the Caribbean Sea, God said in His still small voice, “be still andtake heart.”

To put it simply, life has been hard. Following Jesus is hard. And extremely messy, for that matter. I know Jesus promised, “in this world you will have trouble”; but I did not realize how hard it would actually be. But thank goodness that promise does not end there. It continues on…“so take heart! I have overcome the world.” (And on the note of promises, I’m glad that Jesus is glorified in our weakness, because I’m feeling pretty weak right about now!)

I have visited over 60 homes of our 275 students. More than half of them are without a loving, caring father. For some, their fathers have passed away. Others just shrug their shoulders when I ask where their father is because they have no idea. Some live with their single mothers, while others are staying with relatives due to incapable or deceased birth parents. A very small percentage live within a good family structure. All of them live amidst immense poverty—lacking the proper amount of food and nutrients a young body needs. Most live in a hot, one room home with more people than what is practical.

And, so here I am. But what am I supposed to do? How can I continue to love these kids with a whole heart when mine continues to shatter? I know that God is a God who sees, but how could that really be? How could the compassionate God of the universe let children go hungry, without a loving mother or father to kiss them goodnight? So many questions, so little answers. 

But take heart.

It’s like God is whispering, “Jamie, it’s going to be ok. Sin has made this world a traitorous place. Some kids I’m sending your way are broken and need My love. It’s going to break your heart. I know it’s hard, but I sent you there for a reason. Do not try to comprehend it, you will not be able to. So, just keep moving forward, remembering who is in control: Me. I am God. Be still, and know that. I am here and have promised to never leave you. So, don’t give in. I love you, and I love them. Rest in that truth. Take heart.”

So, that's exactly what I'm going to do (with supernatural help from Jesus, of course). And although hard, I am in awe that God has chosen me to live here. I consider it a great privilege to love these people, and am deeply excited for what lies ahead.

GOD IS WITH ME

There are many stories of struggle, pain, and grief amongst the 275 students of Grace Emmanuel School. There is one story in particular that has left me broken, filled with joy, and encouraged all at the same time. I’m convinced, however, his story is far from over.

One day at school, I asked one of our older students if I could visit his home soon. He did not hesitate to say yes. A few days later, we took off in a tap-tap (sorta like a taxi) after school to his home in Cabaret, a village north of GES. We walked for awhile on this hot and dusty day until we finally arrived. When we reached his property, we pushed through a mangled tin gate reading “knock before entering” in red letters.

We walked through his sheer curtain of a front door to find his one room home. There was a bed, two pillows, a side table filled with the bare essentials (tooth paste, matches, nearly empty bottle of cologne, soap, comb, brush, a battery powered light, and a small radio), a broken cooler, some bowls and buckets stacked up, and a chair. He lives alone with the company of his small dog. His dad died when he was 14, and his mom died two years ago. He has two sisters, both living elsewhere. He has no nearby family member to turn to. He “supports” himself on the weekends by cleaning shoes at the market with an old brush. He does not go to church anymore because he lacks the proper attire. One time while he was gone, someone had stolen his clothes due to not having a proper front door with a lock.

His house was made up of an unfinished wood frame, a tin roof, walls made of tarps, blankets, cardboard, and scrap wood, and a dirt floor. There is a gap in the roof, causing problems when the rain comes. As I sat beside him on his uncomfortable bed, I noticed one of his pillows was covered with an old shirt instead of a pillow case. He does not eat often. His only reliable meal is the one provided at school; and at times, he is able to provide another meal with the money he makes on the weekends.

When I asked if he was a Christian, he said he accepted Jesus into his life a long time ago. His favorite thing bout Jesus is how He came to die on the cross for our sins. He shared that many times at night, something comes in and presses him down on the bed, making him unable to move or speak. He said it has happened more times than he can count. 

I considered this a perfect opportunity for prayer, truth, and encouragement. I shared with him that his oppressor is the enemy, and that the power of Jesus is much greater than evil spirits or demons of any kind. I read Mark 9:14-28 with him, letting him know Jesus reigns.  I encouraged him to use the power of Jesus through prayer for help and demanding the spirit to leave and never come back in His name. I prayed over him and his home for protection from the enemy, and that he would always remember Jesus in times like those. 

I asked if he owned a Bible. He has a small one in French, a language he does not speak. He said he can only understand some of it. “If we got you a Bible in Creole, would you read it?” With assurance he replied, “Yes.” I promised I would get him one and highlight passages that have to do with his spiritual warfare.

After learning all this information about his life, I was speechless. From what I have seen at school, he can always be found wearing a warm smile. When I asked why, despite all he goes through, he said, “God is with me.” That day, I walked away encouraged. What a beautiful, inspiring example of faith in its rawest form. 

A few days later, Gerson came up to me at school asking about his new Bible. “Come get it from me after school,” I said. He walked in the office, I pulled out his brand new Bible, and flipped through the pages showing him the highlighted passages. As I handed him this precious gift, he flashed me a heartwarming smile accompanied by a thank you.

To fast-forward a few weeks later, Gerson’s sponsor came to Haiti. Knowing Gerson needed help with his housing situation, his sponsor wanted to pay him a visit. After chatting for awhile and praying over him, I asked whether or not the enemy continues to oppress him at night. He said no, but that he had a terrible dream the night before that someone disguised as his sister came into his house and tried to kill him. He woke up and immediately pulled out his Bible, opened up to the Psalms, and read a passage. He said he was able to fall right back to sleep peacefully. What incredible faith. 

Gerson and his sponsor, Bruce

And to put the cherry on top of this story, his sponsor offered to pay to help renovate his home. Now, thanks to his sponsor and a visiting group, Gerson’s unstable living situation is now a durable home. It went from walls of blankets, cardboard, and mangled pieces of tin, to walls of siding; his curtain entryway became a real door with a lock; and his roof no longer has a gaping hole inviting the rain to enter in. 

As I was sitting in the yard watching them finish up the house, tears began to fill my eyes. God is a magnificent Storyteller, and I’m thankful I get to be here to watch it unfold. As Katie J. Davis perfectly wrote in her book Kisses from Katie, “I am blown away that my God, who could do this all by Himself, would choose to let me be a little part of it.” 

THEY CALL HER MOM

As I was figuring out who to visit that day, I asked my co-workers which students have no parents. They replied, "Rosney." So, we found out where he lived and headed out. I was expecting to show up to a broken situation. A situation lacking love and care where a poor aunt took in her orphaned nephew.

We pulled off the main road, parked the car, and walked to his home. When we arrived, I was surprised to find a nice, brightly colored home. We were welcomed in by Anette, Rosney's aunt. She asked us to sit down and called for Rosney to join us. I then saw another head peak out...it was Jamesky, another student at school who happens to be his brother.

Eager to learn their stories, we sat down in the chairs provided and started chatting. Roseny and Jamesky share the same mother, with different fathers. Roseny’s dad, an alcoholic, died before he was born. Jamesky’s dad died when he was just 3 years old to an unknown cause. Their mother died shorty after the earthquake from a fever, leaving them as orphans

Thankfully, Anette stepped in. She is a loving, caring aunt who loves Rosney and Jamesky like her own. She calls them her children; they call her mom. Her and her husband have been married for over 18 years, own their home (a rarity in the village as most homes are rented), have a successful business, and have two beautiful biological children, one of which they are putting through college in Port au Prince.

I was in awe. I had thought I was about to enter into brokenness, but instead left deeply encouraged. This precious family is a beautiful representation of the Gospel. God, in is perfect grace and mercy, chose to see us as sons and daughters through His son's death on a cross. We were once broken orphans unworthy in our own efforts; but because of Jesus, we are now deeply loved and seen as righteous. 

"Praise be to the God and Father of our Lord Jesus Christ, who has blessed us in the heavenly realms with every spiritual blessing in Christ. For he chose us in him before the creation of the world to be holy and blameless in his sight. In love he predestined us for adoption to sonship through Jesus Christ, in accordance with his pleasure and will—to the praise of his glorious grace, which he has freely given us in the One he loves. In him we have redemption through his blood, the forgiveness of sins, in accordance with the riches of God’s grace that he lavished on us." - Ephesians 1:4-9

KIKI'S HOME

Today's home visit is definitely ranked among my favorites thus far. Kiki (the older boy in the royal blue polo) is a student at Grace Emmanuel School who has recently become a buddy of mine. I am beyond thrilled to have met his family; and his baby brother about made my heart explode. 

JEAN DANIEL

WEEP WITH THOSE WHO WEEP

I woke up to the sound of my telephone. I picked it up from my side table and opened a new message to find the heart wrenching news that one of our students passed away the night before. Immediately, tears streamed down my face. My heart sank into my chest, filling with anxiety. Who was it? Was is someone I knew and loved dearly? 

His name was Edmundo, one I could not quite recognize or put a face to. I rushed to my computer to find a picture of him and realized I did not know him well. Yet, instead of relief, my heart ached all the more. My tear drops got bigger. I laid down face first on my bed and started weeping. I pleaded desperately to Jesus for comfort and peace to his family, friends, and classmates. I questioned why this happens. Why an innocent 17-year-old boy was ripped from his family? Why a boy with a sweet demeanor taken from a place where those are rare?

I later found out that Edmundo was part of a loving family, a mother, father, and baby brother. They attended a local Christian church regularly. Edmundo was a good student, and well-liked by his peers and staff at Grace Emmanuel School. He has suffered from sickle cell anemia for much of his life, and was taken in the night by a terribly high fever.

Two days following his death was his funeral. Iselande and I walked in early together, to find Edmundo’s mother, brother, and two aunts sitting by the casket wearing beautiful white outfits. As we greeted them, I felt led to pray over them—so I got on my knees, grabbed his mother’s hands, and began to pray. As the first word left my lips, I started crying. Not because I felt the loss of Edmundo, but because I was broken for their loss. Weep with those who weep.

Not much later, KeKe and Wadly, students of GES and friends of Edmundo, walked in. As is customary in Haiti, they opened the casket before the funeral began for family and friends. Everyone, and I mean everyone, rushed over to the casket to take a last look. Moments later, KeKe came back with tears pouring out of his eyes. I pulled him over, put my arms around him, and he just wept in my lap. Of course, I could not help but cry with him. The pain he was experiencing broke my heart. Again, weep with those who weep.

The entire service, I couldn’t help but cry. KeKe sobbing to my right, Wadly emotionless on my left, and Docilienne, another student and cousin to Edmundo, next to him. Haitian funerals are unlike anything I’ve ever experienced. I’ve never heard loud, dramatic wailing before. Almost every time someone started wailing uncontrollably, I’d look over to find Docilienne with tears streaming down her face. After the fourth time, I discreetly passed over my handkerchief; she needed it more than I did. 

Seeing students I love so much in sorrow and pain left my heart broken. Although it was terribly sad and heart-wrenching, I’m thankful God paved the way for me to be there. To love, to comfort, to be a presence for Jesus. And maybe for the first time, I truly grasped what Apostle Paul meant by weep with those who weep. 

What I experienced that day will forever be stamped on my soul. It’s something I can hardly explain with words. As Kristi (dear friend who lived here for two years) told me, it makes the promise, “He’ll wipe every tear from our eyes” mean something much different. Something more real. Now, more than ever, I can’t wait for the moment when we finally get to go home to Jesus and He’ll do just that. 

BACK ON THE ISLAND

To all those who faithfully keep up with my writings, please accept my apology. I've lacked both time and motivation to write. Also, since returning from Christmas break, I have yet to see the kids. Which, as you know, are the main source of my story telling. 

With that said, I do not have much to add. I have no fun stories or magical epiphanies. 

But what I do have is this: 

I am so happy to be back on the island. When I boarded my plane to return to Indiana for the holidays, I was not so sure I would want to come back (although I knew I would, regardless of how I felt). But, as we sped down the runway and lifted off American soil, my heart was filled with excited anticipation for what is to come in this place. I know this is exactly where God wants me to be, complete with much growing, pain, and joy. And, of course, I can hardly wait to see my students again very soon!

Thank you to all who have and will continue to support me in this venture. Support of all sorts is deeply appreciated; and I would not be here without it.

DOING A "GOOD THING"

There are days when I feel like I’m going to go insane. Days when frustration beckons and the enemy bangs on my door like an angry landlord. Days when I feel like it’s time to throw in the towel, pack up my belongings, and call it quits. Days when it’s really hard to trust that the Lord has it all under control. Days where I find it hard to run boldly to the throne of grace. 

Living in a third world country and doing a “good thing” is not satisfying in and of itself. I used to romanticize oversea missions and thought missionaries had it all together; but, I’m willing to admit I need Jesus more than ever. My motivator, my source of strength, my place of refuge, my helper, my sustainer. The one who loves me beyond measure and has promised to be faithful to the end. If Jesus is not at the center, it will all be worthless and unfruitful with no light at the end of the tunnel. So no matter how long and narrow the tunnel might be, or how unrelenting the opposition, it will all be worth it to hear Jesus say, “well done my good and faithful servant.”

BEYOND THE MOUNTAINS

Not long ago, I met an elderly and brittle woman who is taking care of her grandson, one of our students. A woman who has probably spent 60+ years in survival mode, working hard just to eat for herself let alone provide for her family. Statistically speaking, it is likely she has been cheated on and abused physically by a man. Potentially by more than one, and more than once. She may have never finished school, and she has probably never experienced a hot shower or the luxury of running water in her home. She probably did not get her license and a working vehicle when she was 16 years old. Actually, she probably has not ever owned either of those things. Like many in the village, she may not even be able to sign her own name. There is a high probability she does not know her birthdate for sure. 

There's a Haitian proverb that says, "beyond the mountains, more mountains." No matter how many mountains climbed & overcome, there is always another. And on top of that (or rather underneath), with mountains come many valleys. 

The things one individual here in Haiti might go through in a lifetime is incredible, and far outweighs most. I cannot imagine, and will probably never be able to relate. I can not beat myself up about this, for I did not chose to be born and raised in the land of opportunities. However, I can chose to be thankful. I can live without the feeling of entitlement. I can extend compassion and love. I can go outside of the comfy, safe walls of my life to follow Jesus.  

HE CAME TO HAITI

After fervent prayers, many journal entries, and surrendering to the Lord, something I thought would never happen did: my dad came to Haiti.

Ever since I decided to go to Haiti for the first time in 2011, my dad has not been so keen on me going. From what he had heard it was a completely God-forsaken place. Last year, I remember him telling me that he'd never step foot in Haiti, and couldn't understand why God would call me, a single white girl, to such a place. For a daddy's girl who regarded his opinion as highest, this was hard to go against. 

Before making my decision to move here full time, there were many things the Lord asked me to surrender. One of the hardest to give up was the need for my parents' support. I remember thinking of these words from Jesus: “If you want to be my disciple, deny yourself, take up your cross, and follow me." 

When I think back to that moment, it would have been an easy "yes" to follow Jesus to Haiti if I already had the approval of my parents. It seemed like God wanted to see if I was willing to follow him no matter what.

I was willing, and I did. I remember telling my dad the next day after making my decision to deliver the news. I could tell he was skeptical of my calling, but knew that if God really wanted me to go, there was nothing he could do about it. He said we'd know for sure if the money was raised in time. 

This was a bit nerve-wracking due to the fact that I had about $60,000 dollars to raise in less than 4 months. But, I knew God was able.

As time drew on, my dad's heart slowly started to shift (even before the money was raised). During my benefit night, he signed up to sponsor me at a lofty amount per month; when I spoke at our family's church in attempt to raise funds, I could tell he was proud as he gave me a fist bump and a hug; and one day he asked about the price of flights and later said, "well, it looks like I'll be going to Haiti."

To fast forward to a couple weeks ago, he did just that. He came to Haiti.

It was more than a blessing to watch him love the Haitian people, serve wholeheartedly to build a home, spend time with our students, share his testimony with boys who could relate, and best of all, see his heart change. God probably brought my dad here to give him a fresh perspective and a transformed heart for the third world; but in return, He blessed my socks off. And get this: he will be returning soon (hopefully with my mom and sister, fingers crossed). I cannot wait for what God has in store!

This, my friends, is proof that God is faithful and following Him is completely worth it! 

Oh, and my baby brother tagged along for his first time out of the country! Isn't he handsome?

MEET LELE

Meet Lele. He is one of the goofiest and fun-loving kiddos around. The combination of his smile and laugh has the power to turn anyone's bad day into a good one. Although he's a big boy who just graduated kindergarten and is in 1st grade now, he still showers me with hugs and lets me kiss him.

Lele humbles me. He, along with his many siblings, live in a poverty-stricken village with their mother. Although they have few material possessions, some of their most basic needs are not met, and they go without many meals,  you'd never know it.  His mother can always be found in the front row at church praising Jesus with all her might, while Lele and his siblings can be found with the biggest of smiles, having fun, and causing a ruckus! Why, a mere outsider might ask? I'm convinced it's Jesus.

A PRETTY BIG DEAL

Yesterday concluded our second week of school for our students in their beautiful, new classrooms! Last year, many of our classes were held in tattered army tents, while others were split up into sections of our church pavilion. As the ribbon was cut on the first day, we could not help but cheer with loud voices, big smiles, and excited hearts. As you can probably imagine, it was a pretty big deal. You can see a video of the action here. My heart is overflowing with joy as I think about what God has done and will continue to do in this place!

Here's just a small glimpse of what went down:

HERE GOES NOTHING

On a rather cloudy and humid afternoon, we arrived in a village called Source Matelas to visit some of our students from Grace Emmanuel School. First stop: Julie's house. I remembered visiting her before, but I could not remember her story. After exchanging names and how are you's, she disappeared into her home. She quickly returned, waving at us to come in.

Upon entry, I noticed the dreadful heat and poor living conditions. To my right was a pregnant woman lying on the floor, three children sitting next to her, and another young woman sitting in a chair with a baby in her lap. I was told that over 11 people live here. In my opinion, this was not a pleasant place to live; but by looking at Julie's smile, you would never know the difference. "Do you live with your Mom?" I asked. She replied with a quick, "No, she is dead." I asked about her dad to find out that he lives elsewhere with her step mom, and that she lives with her sisters and cousins.

My heart sank. I do not like hearing stories and witnessing situations like this; but this is why I am here. This is my job. I am excited to go deeper with the students at Grace Emmanuel School as I visit their homes and get to know their stories. I get to come alongside them and their families in attempt to love them like Jesus would.

This, although beyond my qualifications, is what God has called me to do...to take a risk by being Jesus in Haiti to those who are less fortunate, vulnerable, and broken. I am sure it will be difficult and full of heartbreak, but I am eager for what is in store as I journey onward. So, here goes nothing! Or perhaps, something.

"...not because I was qualified, but because I had showed up." 

– Conor Grenan, Little Princes