Core Coffee and the Spirit of God

Yesterday in a very small room I had coffee with the Spirit of God and some women I barely know.

Paper plates were loaded with fruit, lemon bread, and the required "Chick-Fil-A@ Chick-n-minis that these gatherings seem to rely on to fuel attendance.  Small talk was taking place as the women sat in hard folding chairs so close that their knees were touching.  The facilitator, ever prompt, began with one single request.  Describe a time when you absolutely know that God showed up.

So much for small talk.  It was as if the door opened and the true guest joined us.

One woman shared about the time she was revived in a hospital bed where her family had gathered, certain that this time she would not pull through. Another shared of her journey through cancer and the devastating new diagnosis.   A third told the story of losing her beloved sister unexpectedly.  Next came the woman whose nine year old daughter suffered a traumatic brain injury and wasn't going to survive, or if she survived, she certainly would never walk or function on her own.  Then came the heart wrenching story told by the tearful mom who quietly recalled the night she had to endure the procedure to free her dead child from her womb.  Woman by woman, the room filled with stories of impossible situations, consequences of unforgiveness, drug abuse, divorce, homelessness, poverty and death.

As I listened to story after story I thought of the despair and brokenness that each lady had experienced. I also came to realize that each lady had also experienced something else. It was all over the faces of the women in that room.  It could be seen in the eyes of the storyteller and of those listening, nodding, slightly smiling, comforting each other.

You might wonder - Were these ladies gathered at a grief counseling meeting? a group therapy session? Perhaps we were gathered at a book signing of the latest self help book on dealing with adversity? Was there a world renown counselor in town sharing his thoughts in a seminar?

There most definitely was a Counselor in the room.  Each story revealed how the Counselor had come alongside in the moment of the deepest despair, the greatest loss and given just what was needed for that time in a broken life of the woman speaking. Each story concluded the same way, revealing the glory of God.  We each experienced something bigger than ourselves when we were broken in despair.  Oh, yes, there was a Counselor in that room.  One we each know intimately.   It was then that I was reminded of the words of Isaiah the prophet in chapter 43.

The next hour was spent in the glorious presence of the Holy Spirit, our Counselor as woman after woman shared about the grace of God.  The grace that He freely lavishes on us for His glory and our good.

I am grateful, thankful and forever changed by the way these unassuming women allowed the Holy Spirit to use them, their brokenness and redemption to His purposes in a small room in Colorado Springs yesterday.   I am humbled that I was called to sit there and witness a glimpse of heaven on earth, behind the torn veil gazing at the Throne.

Make me an instrument

As a young girl I was told that I'd have to pick a confirmation name and a person to represent me on confirmation day. Not knowing why really or what that meant,  as a act of obligation rather than spiritual connectedness, I was told that choosing my Aunt was the right thing to do.  I wasn't particularly fond of this Aunt and I certainly wasn't fond of the name I was strongly encouraged to take.

Francis....seriously?!

So like all the good Catholic girls I put on the white dress, veil, shiny white shoes and best of all, ruffled socks. I confirmed my faith as I was told to do and added the name Francis to my already difficult to pronounce name. That day I became Constance Sue Francis, literally Connie Francis!  The embarrassment I felt of having that silly name lasted awhile.    What that had to do with Jesus I still don't understand.

But Francis slowly was woven into my tapestry.  The thread was small and not a prominent color, but  a subtle, surprising thread woven into me - spiritually.  Not by any planning or conscience thought, but by the Creator who knew from the start that names mean something.

After confirmation I began reading about St. Francis.  I read about a man conflicted with his earthly Father, devoted to doing something of purpose for those less fortunate by earthly standards.  A thread that began being woven in a young girl in a cathedral in Missouri became more an example to me as I read of a life lived in devotion to God.  He has been a part of my spiritual journey, without any real planning, from that point on.

On my wedding day, it was the prayer of St. Francis that my new husband and I decided to read, the life of St. Francis that I find so compelling, and today while walking a very difficult journey with my sister, it is St. Francis that God once again brings to mind.

Make me an instrument, Lord.

I am a planner.  I am most comfortable when I know days or sometimes weeks in advance of an event every last detail.  I currently have four color coded calendars linked to my phone with each appointment filled out to include date, time, location and notes of the appointment.  Even if I have been to the location many times in the past, I still fill in the address on the location line of my calendar entry - each time.  If those calendars change or update too frequently, I become antsy, sometimes agitated.

My husband travels for work. Often. Sometimes I travel along. He books the flights, arranges the hotel and the rental car.  He checks us in for the flights, downloads the boarding pass to my phone, makes dinner reservations, purchases any event tickets and takes care of all the details while we are on the road.

When we first began traveling together I would be concerned about all of these details.  It has taken a few years to realize I don't have to know exactly where we are going, which rental car company is being used, where the hotel is located, who are we meeting for dinner, at what restaurant, what time and what address.

I don't have to know because my husband knows. He knows the plans. I just follow along and reap the benefits of his planning.  I trust that my partner knows the details of the plan.

What if I treated God that way?

In the book of Jeremiah, the scripture tells us that God speaks, God warns, and He declares.

"For I know the plans I have for you," declares the LORD, "plans to prosper you and not to harm you, plans to give you hope and a future." Jeremiah 29:11

What if I trusted God's plan so completely that I didn't have to know the details. Instead of asking God for the timing, the location, the particulars, what if I just trusted His plan?

What if I focused on the first three words...."For I know" - God knows. He knows.

I don't have to know because my God knows.  He knows the plans. I just follow along and reap the benefits of his planning.  I trust that my savior knows the details of the plan.

That is enough for me.

And the road is the way He went

I live in the shadow of Pikes Peak.  It looms 14,115 feet above sea level and gains a treacherous 7,615 feet in elevation before reaching the summit.

Access to the summit can be achieved by hiking Barr Trail.  This trail is over 12 miles long and gains 7,615 feet in elevation. Lots of people who live in Colorado tell of their adventures hiking and climbing the mountain. Some folks run up and down the mountain in races, or charity walks, some hike trails with friends or alone, stopping to take pictures along the way. I have never set foot on it, and hope never to do so.  I am NOT one of those people. I don't hike for fun, climb for pleasure or run unless someone is chasing me. 

I've heard mountaineers talk about trailing in pairs or small groups.  Usually these groups are comprised of like minded people, laughing, talking or at times grunting together through the steep, uphills that occur occasionally along the way.

I find myself on a mountain road of sorts.  It's a spiritual journey on a path that is ever changing.  My life, and I'd guess yours also, is rocky and narrow in places, endlessly gaining in elevation that requires concentration and effort. I continue to put one hiking boot in front of the other, sometimes wondering if this rocky, steep place is really the path at all. Then I will come to a spiritual meadow where the breeze of the whisper of God is felt and the beauty of the Aspens are found.  
This morning I am enjoying the view from my kitchen window while studying the Word.  A rest area of sorts before having to climb again.  The road is beckoning. Come climb to a higher spiritual level, walk the rocky path with a friend or two, struggle and grow to know more of the Lord. I am so thankful for the like minded people who will climb with me.

And Jesus said, "Come and Follow me". And the road is the way He went.

(Oswald Chambers)

Unexpected death and the Table

We travel tomorrow to Washington State to gather with family.

A "celebration of Life" always brings relatives from all over the country,  people who have not gathered together in years but have the common bond of ancestors to adhere to when devastation comes.  We are saddened and shocked at the devastating loss of a family member who died much too soon.   Meanwhile, another family that has "adopted" me gathers in Arizona on the very same day for the very same purpose. My heart is broken.  Both families mourn the loss of people in their 40's supposedly in the prime of life, neither with a terminal diagnosis.  They were snatched out of everyday life with no warning. As we are preparing to join with family and weep together, I have been seeking guidance from the only One who has any answers.  Why?  that's always the big question.

I asked the LORD to lead me to a place in Scripture to find comfort.  He led me to Psalm 23. Seriously Psalm 23.  I thought, "Well, that's not terribly original" Everyone knows that Scripture, there must be something more I could be given than the verse on magnets all across the globe!

"Even though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death I will not fear, for you are with me."

Great stuff, really great stuff but a bit overused don't you think God? As I continued my complaint to the Creator regarding His uninspired Scripture choice, He gently led me to verse 5.

"You prepare a table before me in the presence of my enemies."

And that is when the Spirit of the Lord led me anew in Bible study.

Just picture the scene...Jesus, the Christ is setting the table.  The table, a place to sit and rest, to find sustanance and strength. The Comforter is setting a place at the table for me, for you, for all the gathered loved ones.  All the while the enemy swirls around the room.  Jehovah Jireh doesn't make the enemy leave, which He certainly has the power to do - No, he just continues to provide for us a place to sit awhile, to rest with Him in the presence of the enemy.  The enemy is right there watching us sit with our Savior.  Oh, imagine how infuriating that must be for the enemy, to see us sitting awhile with God in the middle of his swirl of death and devastation.

The real question is, will you take a seat at the table?  It is an action, a decision -- that free will thing again.  Will I take a seat and rest with the Savior or will I continue to stand in the swirl the enemy wishes for more destruction.

Give us the strength this weekend to gather and sit together at the LORD's table set for us.

Catching up

Yesterday I sat and listened while a dear friend and I caught up on what has been happening in life. I had not had many conversations with her since she moved away and was truly excited to hear what was happening for her.

As we began our conversation over a meager lunch this precious woman opened up her life anew to me and reminded me of how much her friendship has meant to me along my journey.

In the eyes of the world my friend would be considered very successful, even powerful.  She is an attorney, a loving wife and mother, a leader, high up on the chain of command.  She has traveled the world, serving others all along the way.  She is among the most educated people I've met, or even heard about.  She is humble, soft spoken and God fearing. In the near decade of our friendship I have never heard her begrudge nor disparage any human being.  I truly respect and love her.  I have sought her very wise console on many occasions and she never fails to give Godly loving advice to me.

And She is disappointed in the system of the world.

You see the world says that we are only successful when we chase after the next promotion, the larger paycheck or the bigger residence.  The world says that climbing the ladder over the backs of others is an unfortunate reality - just the way it has to be done.

I was able to sit and listen to this women tell me of her disappointment that her promotion didn't look like it was coming through, how her career was probably not going to culminate in the outcome of her choosing.  She was not complaining, nor groaning.  She was simply telling me the facts as she saw them.   She spent some time over lunch discussing how God had used her disappointment to His glory and her benefit.  She quietly explained how her love of our Savior was growing and without the circumstances that she had suffered in her career and the betrayal of people she would not have been situated in such a divine way to seek God.

and she is resolved.

To continue to grow and learn about the Lord, to continue to serve her children, her husband and her community.

His ways are not my ways -

New Hope Indeed

Today my husband and I were honored to speak to the parents of the teenage girls who reside in the New Hope House in Utah.  There are currently 13 young ladies, ages 12-17 who live there. Their challenges range the gambit of risky behaviors.  The girls who live at this house have stories most people don’t want to hear and certainly stories their parents never thought they would have to tell. These families have been surrounded and nearly destroyed by divorce, death, drugs and all possible ugliness from a broken and depraved world.

Last week was a very very difficult week at our own house, For reasons best left unstated here,  i was not at all sure that we would be able to show up to the event that we’d had on our calendar for months. Parent visitation weekends occur every other month at the group home for girls outside of beautiful Salt Lake City.  These weekends are ripe with a mixture of emotions.  Having lived through the bittersweet ordeal of visiting our own daughter at New Hope House for 18 long months. a flood of emotions threatened to destroy any witness we might provide.  We were struggling ourselves and simply did not have anything to give.

That is exactly when God shows up!

We arrived Friday evening tired, angry and frustrated.  Sitting in the driveway before entering the house, we prayed, well begged really -for God to help us, to give strength where we could find none. We had nothing, absolutely nothing to offer.   The parent BBQ was in full swing as we entered the house.  Parents from all over the Western United States gathered to meet staff, tour the facility and hear progress reports, some for the first time since their daughters had arrived.  Some girls are here because their parents were courageous enough to seek radical help,  others are ordered by Judges, some are here because a teacher or counselor advocated for them. 

All of the families share one thing in common.  Devastating choices.

Some choices were made by the adults, others by the kids but all the families are broken as a result of choices. What is discovered in the journey is that all choices come with consequences.  These families come together to try to tackle those consequences together.  Small clusters of these broken families gathered to begin the process, the long, slow and difficult process of rebuilding relationships.  A Mom and daughter talking at the picnic table, a family in quiet conversation huddled on the patio, a divorced Mom and Dad sitting together with their girl attempting to connect for the first time in years.  Occasionally a tear falls or a laugh breaks through.  In hushed tones the tentative healing begins, slowly, cautiously.  We realized anew that we were called to witness the miracle of restoration.

The Directors of the group house, a Teen Challenge of the Rocky Mountains program are Matt and Heather.  A simple, no-nonsense couple who have lived in the trenches of youth ministry for years.  They are parents, partners and life changers giving their-selves to the hard work of the Savior daily - without ego or adequate compensation, without appreciation or gratitude and without grumbling.  They continue to stay in the dirt with the girls, breathing life where death threatens to destroy.  I am not only speaking spiritual death,  I am speaking about literal death.

I am blessed to be able to hear the reports first hand.  One girl rushes to me in the kitchen to welcome me back greeting me with a huge smile and a hug, another tells me in hushed tones how she invited Jesus into her heart.  As I come back to this place where miracles happen,  I am reminded that joy is found in the small victories. 

I am so thankful that there are people who will step into the trenches and do the work that God calls them to do, without earthly accolades.   I find that I am grateful for the staff at Teen Challenge of the Rocky Mountains New Hope House who have committed their lives to helping girls that many, if not most, would have tossed aside. 

I am confident of this, I have seen the goodness of the LORD in the land of the living. (Psalm 27:13)

730 days and counting...

Today marks day 730.  Two full years have passed since my new label was given me.

Survivor. 

Technically I have been a "survivor" for decades.  Many, if not most of us are.  We survive abuse, divorce, failure, disappointment but this was different.  This was silent, invisible and without warning. The "big one"- the Widow Maker.  The cardiologist was very clear in his amazement of my survival,  explaining what a miracle it was that I was alive.  Which left me with one large nagging question: Why?

That question evolved into several, What was I supposed to do with this gift of time? Would I be healthy enough to do anything? How much time, exactly, was there?  

I've had the opportunity to be the primary caretaker for several people who had a terminal diagnosis.   They were given a "heads up" if you will.  They were given a span of time for the opportunity to have conversations or reconciliations before death.  Often you hear people who have a terminal diagnosis say something about wanting more time.  More time to experience  _____________.    
Did something come to mind?

I would dearly love to say that I cherished each extra day.  That I spent each gifted moment with friends in laughter or sharing great family time.  I'd love to say that every morning I faithfully spent time with the Lord of my life, or enjoyed the beautiful setting of the Colorado Mountains with renewed appreciation.   I would be thrilled to report that broken relationships all have miraculously been restored because everyone realized life is fragile and to be cherished.

But I cannot.

The truth is that within hours of coming home from the hospital most things were business as usual. The people around me with few exceptions went right back to their lives.  Everything was the same dysfunctional "normal" in the days after the heart attack. Oh sure some things were different.  I didn't feel good, I had a new supply of medications, new appointments to keep and a new work out regiment but by and large, everything was just about the same.  Everything but Me.  

There is a longing now.  An urgency that I can't seem to explain. It has haunted me at times.  The kind of gnawing that keeps you awake at night.  This deep seated desire in my heart (no pun intended) for true genuine relationships, honesty, unity and legacy.  The desire for purpose and to use the gifted time well in service to the One who gifts time.  

There have been some simple things I have gotten to witness because of this extra time. Walks on a hiking trail with sunshine on my face, the opportunity to ride in a boat across a clear lake, watching a pre-teen boy make his first bucket in basketball and the resulting huge smile erupting on his surprised face.   The ability to have bible study discussions with real seekers or watching people I love ski on a sunny day in the Colorado high country. Big moments have also been given me in this stretch of time.  A  beautiful wedding in an aspen meadow inthe shadow of Pikes Peak on a perfect September day,  the ability to cuddle a newborn Haitian baby who wasn't suppose to survive,  being able to comfort a family dealing with a deadly diagnosis and watching them handle that news with grace and love in the sweltering heat of a third world country.    The complete joy in building relationship with one of the prodigals, and the announcement that my newest grand-baby is at this moment being knit together by the Creator.  

I realize now what I was to focus on in these past 2 years of my life.   It's the same thing that I was given opportunity to learn in the first 54 years, 3 months and 12 days.  Scripture says it best:

"I was under great pressure, far beyond my ability to endure, so that I despaired even of life.  Indeed, in my heart I  felt the sentence of death.  But this happened that I might not rely on myself but on God, who raises the dead."  (2 Corinthians 1:8b- 11-I personalized it by changing the pronouns, the emphasis mine)

I am indeed a new creation, the old is passed away, the new has come. (2 Corinthians 5:17)

May I be reminded to use my gifted future to rely on God, the Creator of it all. 

“Carve your name on hearts, not tombstones. A legacy is etched into the minds of others and the stories they share about you.” 
― Shannon L. Alder

Change - the only constant

Another year passes away leaving in its wake moments (or hours, months, seasons) of joy, heartache, surprise, loss and change.  A whole lot of change.  With the change in my life and on the calendar comes reflection.  It seems that every 365 days I find myself thankful for the passing of the previous year and hopeful that the one before me will be filled with the goodness the previous lacked.  How can it be that year after year that same feeling appears?  Perhaps it has more to do with my perspective than anything else.

In 2014 there were many changes in my life. Change in relationships, change in financial status, change in health issues, change due to decisions of others. There have been changes in my address, my insurance, my family and my friends.  For good or not, change is happening.  Challenges of blending families, making marriage work well and being a disciple even when you don’t feel like it all bring about change.  None of these things differentiate this year from the many years that have come before.  Change is the constant in all of them.

What’s the point of all this reflection? To change, of course! To grow, to learn, to do things differently in the coming 12 months than in the last.  Yet it is exactly change that I try to avoid.  Perhaps that’s the point.  I must stop trying to avoid change and instead embrace it,  For it is with change that I can grow closer to Christ and then closer to the woman that I am destined to be in Him.

Change brings with it the ability to trust.  The ability to rely fully on my Savior. I know without question that God is faithful.  Time and again He has rescued me from the world’s plan.  Often when we talk of God, our conversation turns vague or mystical. I am not speaking of a unreachable, uncaring God who pops in occasionally and gives me a “God Story” to tell in amazement to my friends.   I am speaking here of tangible, concrete ways that the Lord of Heaven and Earth rescued ME.  Not some ancient Pharisee named Nicodemus, not a prophet on a fiery chariot, not a fisherman transformed into an apostle but ME - now - in 2014. 

So, I will walk forward into 2015 and do my best to embrace change and to remember that without it I cannot transform into the woman that God has called me to be.

The Gift of SHUT UP

I have always been talkative.  Okay, that might be an understatement.  As a child I was often in trouble because of this.  Not because I was doing anything different from my siblings, but because I was doing it at a louder decibel level. 

Last year I had the great pleasure of meeting an awesome woman who told me a story of how God used her, and specifically her silence, in a difficult season for her family.  She explained that God had counseled her that her help was not needed in advising her husband regarding the loss of his job.  She had several suggestions about how he might revise his resume, or network with people, but she was essentially told by the Creator of the World to "Shut Up".  It was said lovingly, of course, but the message was clear.

After listening to my friend tell her story, I realized that I had been giving my well meaning advice to someone for quite a while. I also realized that my advice and counsel were not helping, but I couldn't seem to stop offering it.   I began praying for this gift that my lady friend had been given.  She called it the "gift of  SHUT UP".

Throughout the spring of 2014 I continued to pray that I would receive the "gift of SHUT UP".  I journaled about it, prayed for it, asked repeatedly for God to come through.  I was having difficulty keeping my advice to myself, thinking all along the way that I had some valuable input, some unthought of solution to a particular problem.   I did not. 

In June, I was on an island in Haiti when my request was granted.  I'd gone with a team of Americans to the Island of LaGonave, Haiti where we were working in a hospital helping locals.  On June 20, I began feeling sick. I was running a slight fever, my throat hurt, my ear ached.  I felt as though I had an sinus infection.  It was our last day on the island and I was ready to get home.  Haiti in June is hot, that is another understatement.  It's humid and downright uncomfortable.  Being sick and hot and humid was more than I had bargained for.  Our team had to travel back to the mainland across the Bay of Haiti on a boat that was right out of Gilligan's Island. Sick was not something that I wanted to be. As the team began preparations to take the boat back to the mainland, I could not wait to be home. 

Getting home from Haiti proved to be a bit of a challenge. We encountered closed airports, diversions to other countries,  changes and delays.  We arrived in Miami in the early morning hours of June 22. Tired and sick, I finally got back to the United States but my voice had been left on the mainland of Haiti some 12 hours earlier.

After returning to Colorado I sought medical attention. Weeks passed without any result.  I was seen by 3 different specialists and had 2 CT scans before I received the diagnosis

Vocal Cord Parasis, otherwise known as the gift of SHUT UP.

It took 65 days before I could speak above a faint whisper.  I spent the entire summer stuggling to be heard, trying to communicate and feeling frustrated.  

I learned alot in the journey of silence, or near silence.  I learned to be careful what you pray for. God certainly hears our prayers but His answers are often different than anticipated.  I learned that God has something to say and I cannot hear if I am talking.  And lastly, it was reaffirmed to me that I am not the Holy Spirit for anyone, and the Holy Spirit is not asking for my help.  

I no longer pray for the "gift of SHUT UP" but I am glad that I received it.  I got to know God a little better in the quiet.  I got to know myself just a little better too.

Grace embodied- a Saint named Claire

During our time at the hospital in Haiti, I paired with Kristen who is a Physical Therapist here in Colorado. She is a soft spoken, intelligent, thoughtful women in her mid thirties who has a gentleness about her that is comforting.  We visited patients with a wide range of injury.  Ladies recovering from abdominal surgeries, elderly gentlemen who had suffered stroke, a young girl who was the victim of a motor vehicle accident, children with assorted joint aches or injuries, a University student and very talented soccer player, staff members who had sprained knees from walking on the uneven, rocky streets of Anse-A-Galet. With each patient that we saw I wondered again, why was I here?  I had no medical training, no skill or schooling to help these people.  Every one of these patients has a story, as we all do, but one lady in particular captivated us.

Birth records were not kept or are not available to many of Haiti's residents.  Claire appears to be around 75 years of age, but her exact age is unknown to her. She is blind, soft spoken, intelligent and prayerful.  Meeting Claire is like meeting Jesus on earth.  Brought to the hospital because of high fever, Claire also suffered injury to her left hand which was very sore and swollen. She was in a room with 4 or 5 other patients and all of the family members, barely room to scoot around each other.  Each day Kristen would work with Claire's hand to bring relief from her pain. My role was as assistant to Kristen getting gel or gloves as she needed.  She easily could have done without me but was gracious enough to allow me to "help".   Each day, Claire would smile and tell us how she was praying for us.

Kristen and Claire

It is very humbling to stand at the overcrowded, overheated hospital bed of an elderly saint and have her pray for you.  The first time it happened, I just stood, listening. The Creole she was speaking was of course, unfamiliar to me, but the name of Jesus is universal, a name above all names and thereby recognizable.

Peace entered the room.

While laying on my bed later that night I again asked God for some guidance as to what my role in Haiti was to be.  I knew there was a reason I was there, but for the life of me I could not discern it. Then I realized what I would do the next day.




The next morning as Kristen worked on Claire's hand and Claire talked of praying for us, I asked instead if I could pray for her.  Bee began to translate my prayer for Claire and her family.  As I spoke to God in petition for Claire's healing, her family joined in.  The English mixed with the Creole and the weak voice of a 75 yr old women spoke her agreement - Amen, Amen -as the translation hit her ears.  I asked our God for her healing, provision and protection, for her family's safety and peace and I thanked the Creator for the legacy that Claire was leaving for her family.  I thanked Him also that one day we would meet again at His throne.

That was the source of the loudest Amen.

Make a Joyful Noise

On Monday several of the team were asked by the HeadMaster of the schools for the town of Anse-A-Galets, Daniel-Bertrand, to come to the middle/high school and speak English to the students.  He explained that the students were preparing to take exams on Tuesday and Wednesday and that they were supposed to be out of school on Monday, but he had cancelled their day out of school because we were there. I was anticipating that they wouldn't be too thrilled to have us there taking up the day off.

I was wrong.

We went early to the school which was just a few minutes by Jeep from the compound where we were staying.  Daniel-Bertrand and another Haitian man named Johnny were to be our interpreters.  Daniel-Bertrand explained that there were middle school students in one area and the high school students were in another area. The students are not grouped by age, but rather by grade passed.  Once a student achieves the level of 5th grade, they must pass the year end exams before moving up to the next level in school.  It does not matter the students age, only that they learned all curriculum and pass the exam. Alex, Riley and Megan would talk with the high school students first while Paula, Joe and myself would take on the middle schoolers.

We had no idea what we were in for.

The room was packed with students sitting on benches, row after row of eager faces looking at us as though we had something to teach them.  We began by telling them a bit about ourselves, and asked them to do the same, in English.  Like any other classroom,  the cool kids sat together, the studious were in the front of the room in a line, the shy kids in the back trying not to be seen.  Each took their turn telling us something about themselves in English.   On the front row was a handsome young man named Markelor Louis. His English was pretty good, probably the best of the Haitians in the room. He told of how his Father had died 6 years previous and he was left to support his mother and 6 sisters. He was matter of fact, not trying to evoke any emotion, just stating facts about himself. Then he sat down. As others continued to rise and speak, I quietly went over and sat by Markelor.  I asked what I could do for him or how he thought I might help him. His answer was to teach him more English so he could better support his family. (Here Markelor -last on right-is pictured with his friends)

We did, in the form of a song.

Paula is a worship leader who plays the Ukelele.  Yes, I said Ukelele.  She played and I wrote on the board the words to "All To Him"- an upbeat contemporary christian song declaring God's greatest.

For every mountain that is high He is higher
For every burden that is great He is greater
For every valley that is deep He is deeper still
More than we can know

Our promise is Jesus
Our answer is Jesus
All to Him
All to Him we owe everything
Our savior is Jesus 
Our future is Jesus
All to Him
All to Him we owe everything

For every fear that closes in He is closer
For every doubt that comes on strong He is stronger
For every battle that we face He has conquered all
More than we can know

We know the great God
We serve the great God
We owe the great God
Everything all to Him


The kids were engaged and excited to learn the song.  They sang along loudly and with great enthusiasm.  By the third time though, they had it.  One in the group came forward and played the Ukelele after some minimal instruction from Paula while his classmates repeated the song again and again.  At the end of the song everyone in the room stood to their feet.  The room filled with thunderous applause, shouting and laughing.  Cheers lifted the spirits of all there.
I think I got a glimpse of what it sounds like at the Throne. It was a joyful noise indeed.


"Shout for joy to the Lord, all the earth.  Worship the Lord with Gladness; come before him with joyful songs." Psalm 100

Checking in on Baby Precious

Esther is her name.  How appropriate.

I finally was able to go check on Baby Precious the other day.  Of the 8 babies that our team had a hand in delivering only one was a boy.  Precious.  He is doing well and his mother, Esther is recovering from her C-Section.   I found out that when Esther realized she was pregnant she told the baby's father.  Not wanting to be a parent, the Father left.  Esther is afraid and alone and now has a son to raise in a country with no welfare, WIC or aid to dependent families.  Life is already difficult here, being a single mother only ups the degree of difficulty.  She is not interested in raising a son alone and who could blame her. 

There was another Esther, taken to live at a young age to the king's court, far away from her home. Her uncle Mordecai watched over her as best he could, but he didn't have much influence.  The bible tells the story of her fears which needed to be overcome to save herself and her people.   

Esther and her son have a very hard road ahead.  It's my prayer that she will learn to love her son and see him as a blessing, as the precious gift that he is.  May he grow up knowing that he is loved by God.

Structured Chaos

Wednesday afternoon the local merchants came to the compound to sell their crafts.  I always wonder how all of these personally "handmade" items are found in so many different places throughout a country.  That may be a blog for a different day.

The prices are based on a sliding slide that seems to depend on factors I do not understand. As is true in most countries, the bargaining is always part of the process.  There is definitely a "white tax" and let's just say some on our team have helped the Haitian economy much more than others.

Here is a photo of 'Baby Precious' born earlier this week:

Thursday morning was met with the arrival of another baby by C-section.  Overnight there were four other babies born naturally.  The hospital is very crowded with surgical patients, new mothers and people who have contracted Chikungunya.  The outbreak of this virus is epidemic here, you cannot find someone who hasn't had at least one family member sick in the last several months.  Patients become infected when bitten by mosquitoes carrying the virus and suffer symptoms including very high fever, headaches, and severe joint pain lasting weeks.  Several of the patients admitted this week had fevers reaching 105 and many are children.  The halls are lined with beds, the rooms are overcrowded. The moans of those who are trying to recover from motor vehicle accidents, gasoline explosions and surgery are joined with the wails of the infants, and the soft conversations of family members speaking with doctors and nurses in a mix of English and Creole.  The distinct smell of urine lies just under the scent of Lysol.  Often the smell of wood burning creeps into the fragrance as the family members prepare food for their patient just outside the wall of the hospital.  All these sounds, smells and sights mix together, I am reminded that I am not equipped to help these people.  

...BUT I do know the One who is.

Revelation 8:3-4 tells us that the prayers of the saints go up before God, carried by an angel in the form of incense to the God of all at the throne.  Isn't that something?! My prayers are like incense, a pleasing fragrance to God himself.  

We are equipped to help these people, we can pray....

And so, amid the structured chaos this morning, one ill equipped middle-aged American woman stood quietly and prayed a prayer to her Maker.

Glory to God alone.

"Another angel, who had a golden censer, came and stood at the altar. He was given much incense to offer, with the prayers of all God’s people, on the golden altar in front of the throne. The smoke of the incense, together with the prayers of God’s people, went up before God from the angel’s hand". Revelation 8:3-4

Great update on baby precious boy

First the update you must be waiting for...Baby Precious boy and his Mother are both doing well. 

There is an old Mother Goose nursery rhyme that says...

"Monday's child is fair of face,

Tuesday's child is full of grace,

Wednesday's child is full of woe,

Thursday's child has far to go,

Friday's child is loving and giving,

Saturday's child must work for a living,

But the child that's born on the Sabbath day,

Is fair and wise and good and gay."

Children are considered the world over as a blessing from God. Psalm 127:3-4 tells us that "Children are a gift from the LORD; they are a reward from him."  I can say that the Haitian women that I have met certainly believe this to be true.  Today-by C-Section, we delivered the second set of twins this week.  Two precious baby girls were born this afternoon, making baby #5 & #6 for this Mom.  She is thankful to have been blessed so abundantly by God and shortly after the girls were delivered, she was happy to receive her requested tubal ligation!

The babies are now doing well after another team member and I stimulated them to help clear their lungs. This is done by briskly rubbing your finger up and down their spinal columns, thus irritating them into wailing.   Is it possible that I was sent to Haiti to make babies cry?!  We were able to get them cleaned off, dressed and wrapped up quickly and then proceeded to be "human incubators" keeping them warm until a bassinet could be found for them.  

I truly hope the nursery rhyme is wrong.  I pray for no woe to fall upon these girls, that they will be loved, protected and provided for all the days of their lives, beginning right now.

(And just if you are wondering, I was born on a Tuesday!)

Devotions and a word

Most of you know that I had been searching for the reason I was called to this trip.  The answer is beginning to take shape.

Each evening after a long day our team meets for praise, worship and to de-brief the day.  Each night a different team member decides what the topic will be for discussion and asks a question for each to ponder.

The other evening it was Jordan's turn to lead.  First a little about Jordan.  He is an excellent young man, 25 years of age, well educated and about to enter medical school.  He is exceedingly kind, humble and polite. I've yet to hear him say a negative thing about anyone or anything.  He seems to take all of this in stride with a great, mischievous sense of humor.  In short, he is pretty cool.  Jordan had a very good day, being allowed to scrub in and assist in the surgeries of several women and help in the delivery of our first set of twins.  To say that Jordan was excited would be a huge understatement.

During devotions, Jordan led us to Isaiah 12:

“Give praise to the Lord, proclaim his name;

    make known among the nations what he has done,

    and proclaim that his name is exalted.

5 

Sing to the Lord, for he has done glorious things;

    let this be known to all the world.

6 

Shout aloud and sing for joy, people of Haiti

    for great is the Holy One of Israel among you.”

(please know that I changed a word above!)

His question was: "What was your God moment today?"

Several members of the team shared great and wonderful things that they had seen.  Some spoke of surgery, some of orphans, some of the high schoolers or of some connection with someone that had touched them.  Others talked of team or staff members who had spoken into their lives without even being aware of it.  All of the stories had one common thread. Every team member made mention of how "out of the box of their comfort" they were.  We wrapped up the meeting with praise and prayed a quick prayer for the people of Haiti.

Later when I was sitting alone in the dark I "heard" the voice of God say...

"Why do you keep putting me into box when what I want is to get you out of yours? "

I do not wish to put the God of the Universe into a box, and I certainly do not want to stay comfortable and miss what He has in store for me. 

His will be done, on earth as it already is being done in heaven.

The Circle of Life

After lunch I got to scribe for Deena.  Lest you be at all impressed by that, it really means sitting in a chair writing down everything she says.  She is an RN and has been doing ultrasounds on women here this week.  A portable ultrasound machine was carried down with us.  The room is small, barely big enough to fit 3 people and an exam table, certainly not big enough for 3 people, an exam table and a fan. The door must remain closed for privacy so the room is like a sauna.  That's where we spent the first part of the afternoon.  We saw 4 women who were experiencing a range of problems. 

The first patient we saw was a quiet, shy lady who was not feeling well for unexplained reasons.  She watched Deena's face carefully as the ultrasound was being done.  Deena spoke out information to me to write in the lady's chart in English which is, of course, the only language either of us speak.  The lady's brow grew increasingly furrowed as we talked and transcribed.  After the exam was over, she got up and dressed quickly.  Ezner, a bi-lingual Haitian nurse came into the room.  Ezner is a kind, strong man who speaks very good English.  The Patient listened intently to Ezner's every word.  The smile that broke out on her face when she was told that she was approximately 7 weeks pregnant was priceless.  Her delighted husband smiled an equally brilliant smile from the doorway.  That was a good start to the afternoon.  We completed 3 more ultrasounds, only one that resulted in the need for future surgery.  

After that I worked again with some PT patients with Kristen.  It was amazing to witness the difference in the strength of the post op ladies in the course of one day.  Kristen assures me that the strength and balance that they have is due to the PT and getting them up walking quickly after surgery.  

Yesterday a premature baby was brought into the hospital.  The birth had occurred at the Mother's house and the baby and Mom brought in soon after.  Today the baby went to heaven.  The family members are devastated, the Father informing a team member that this is the third baby they have lost. Twenty seven months spent anticipating babies that would not live but a few days.

And so Tuesday began with birth, continued with the announcement of a life to come and ended with a death. I am beginning to see that the Haitians have an understanding of this circle of life. They accept with peace when we must admit our limitations and confess our inability to do anything more medically.  They grieve, of course, but they also accept the sovereignty of God.   

We could learn something from that.

Tuesday Child is full of Grace

Today has been interesting, and it's only noon.  

I was able to witness the birth of a beautiful Haitian boy by C-Section.   His 19 year old mother was helped into the OR by our nurse, Deena.  They walked, well one waddled a bit, arm in arm toward the  operating table. I was given the privilege of observing the entire procedure.   I was captivated watching how well the surgeons and nurses worked together in spite of the language barrier. 

At precisely 9:13 a.m. ET they brought "precious boy" into the world.   He didn't make a sound. Sometimes silence is alarming and this was one of those times. Dr.  Diane explained that some of the infant mortality occurs within 10 minutes of birth because the babies are born and are not stimulated immediately.  They fail to cry and clear their lungs thereby suffocating and dying.  This is one of the techniques that is being taught to nurses here at the hospital.  This baby was well attended and placed into the hands of Dr Diane.  We quickly took the baby to the next room and Diane explained to me the need to get him crying.  I was able vigorously rub his little back while he wailed.  It was glorious.  

Little "precious boy" was cleaned off and weighed 3.08 kilos or 6.7 pounds.  A pretty good size for a Haitian child. I helped him get dressed and wrapped him up while his Aunt looked on.  I was told that they won't name him for a few days as is the custom here due to infant mortality.  A great start to the morning.

I then joined with Kristin who is a physical therapist in seeing post op patients from yesterday's surgeries and several other people who needed PT at the hospital.  While walking through the very crowded hospital I noticed a lady who was laying on a gurney in the hall.  She was in great pain due to her hysterectomy yesterday afternoon.  The family of a patient is responsible for all the food, bedding and care of their loved one while in the hospital.  This lady had no one around her.  I smiled at her and she gently smiled back. The universal empathy sign had been exchanged. I reached for her frail hand and we held hands and gazes for several moments. She nodded as though to say, "I am okay" and I nodded my return "good, I'll check on you later" -no words were uttered.  I can only say "good morning", "good afternoon" and "how are you" in Creole yet I was somehow able to connect with her and I had a new friend.  She was in very much pain, having had no meds yet this morning and I prayed over her but then was off to see another patient.

Kristin was assigned a translator named Bee, short for Wisembee,  who is a fantastic man with great empathy and great English, all qualities of a terrific translator.  He is a very intelligent man who proudly tells us of his sons at University in America.  There is only so much that can be communicated with pointing and mimicking and a good translator is essential to help patients understand the choices of their medical care, as well as the instructions of their after care.

Kristin, Bee and I saw patients for the duration of the morning:

- the 14 year old girl who had neck, back and leg injuries from a motor vehicle accident yesterday.

- the mother who delivered twins by C-Section yesterday morning

-3 ladies who were recovering from hysterectomies

-2 stroke victims Mr. Andrews and Maurice.  Both men appear to be in their early 80's and both have had obvious strokes.  They have balance and strength issues with weakness on one side.   I actually felt comfortable dealing with the stroke victims as I have some experience with that.  I think I may have found my stride this morning....we shall see what the afternoon brings.

Time for school- Haiti on a Monday

Today I went back to school.  We were asked to come and meet the high schoolers and what we call middle schoolers at the local school.  The education system is quite different than in the States.  In Haiti a student only advances if they pass exams at the end of the year.  They are not grouped by chronological age for many do not know exactly how old they truly are.  They are grouped by exams they have completed.  Each student that advances to the equivalent of middle school has studied all of the subjects our students have in addition they have studied French, English and Spanish.  Yes, every student.  

While the medical folks went to the hospital to aid patients, the rest of us became teachers at the school. There were approximately 75 students that we met.  They practiced their English by asking questions. It became apparent quickly that they were very well educated. They asked difficult questions of us, "What is your hope for western universities, why is there racism in America, what is snow? We also tackled the subject of trust and how to trust in God.  These topics are extremely difficult under any circumstance but the language barrier only increased the difficulty.  One of our team had commented that music and math are universal. We decided to put that theory to the test.  We split up into 2 groups -one group put math problems of increasing difficulty on the black board for the other to solve.  First the American high schoolers wrote out a factoring problem complete with negative numbers, which the Haitian students solved without difficulty.  Then the Haitians responded with a calculus problem that stumped the Americans. The other group taught a worship song to the Haitians in English accompanied by our team member, Paula who had brought along her Ukulele.  The Haitians quickly learned the song and then one of the Haitian young men came up and learned to play the Ukulele also.  They were energetic and talented. 

This afternoon I was able to observe the surgery of a woman who was in need of a hysterectomy.  It was fascinating.  The added bonus was that the surgical suite is air conditioned! This morning our team delivered by C-Section beautiful baby twins! Because the hospital is so over crowded, all the surgery patients will heal in the one recovery room.  A room half the size of my bedroom at home occupied by 4 surgical patients, their family members, and 2 newborns. 

Tomorrow there are more surgeries.  More need to find space.

I can say this - I am blessed to have been born in America.

Sunday afternoon - a stroll to the ocean

Sunday afternoon some of the team took a walk through the neighborhood to walk along the ocean.  

Along the way we were met by children calling out to us, some coming to walk alongside us for awhile.  they yell "Blanc" when we walk by, which means "White". We walked through "squatter houses" where people come during the dry season to live in the salt flats and then are driven out by flooding when the rainy season comes.

Once at the ocean we met fishermen and artisans who knew our group leader Diane from her time here. Diane is a pediatrician in Colorado Springs who grew up the daughter of missionaries here on the Island.  Her family returned to the States when she was 12 but many of the people know her from her time here.  She speaks fluent Creole so she is a helpful tour guide as we walk along the rocky path near the ocean.  

Seashells that we might purchase in a shop in America are used to stop the flow of water here, like sandbags are used on flooding rivers,  beautiful shells along the edges of the dirt yards.  As we walked, we went through the slums, the "houses" are made up of left over materials found laying around. Corrugated metal or left over boat sails are hung haphazardly to create some minimal privacy.  Some children wear clothing advertising products from foreign places, an odd image here, Disney princesses on the torn and dirty shirts worn in the salt flats by children.  Some are without clothing entirely, whether by choice or need, I do not know.

After our walk, we had a time of rest in the afternoon.  During that time I found a quiet place to sit and write.  I was fortunate to find a working power outlet, a small table and chair, and a fan!  Such opulence!

After sitting there for awhile, a well dressed Haitian man asked to join me in front of the fan. His name is Daniel-Bertrand and he is the headmaster at the high school and also the CEO of the hospital here. We had a pleasant conversation, thankfully in English.  He wanted to arrange a few Americans to go to the high school and speak English to the students to allow them to practice and learn.  We will do that tomorrow (Monday).

After my conversation with Daniel-Bertrand I was able to join a couple of the people on my team to tour the hospital.  It was an education. The new hospital is still not yet finished so we were in the old building.  There are patients everywhere, more than 60 patients, in rooms and hallways due to the outbreak of Chicamunga, a disease contracted thru mosquitoes which causes high fever, dehydration and body aches.  It is not fatal, but lasts for several weeks and seems quite prevalent here.  Almost every Haitian we meet has multiple family members who have been affected.   Just yesterday 5 children were admitted with fevers over 105 degrees.  When a patient is hospitalized, it is required that a family member care for them and prepare their food.  That means that many family members sleep on the floors or cabinets at the hospital because going back and forth from home is not possible.

We are being well fed and have fans and beds.  The team is getting to know one another better and the Haitian people are gracious and appreciative.

Yesterday we crashed the WiFi because pictures and videos were  too much for the network, so I will refrain from posting pictures until I return.  

Monday promises to be an exciting day as I will be meeting with students at the high school and spending time at the hospital.

More to come.....