And so commences the sharing of my story, as I begin a new journey and have committed to a year-long volunteer position in Haiti. I will be serving with Nuestros Pequenos Hermanos, (www.nph.org), Spanish for "Our Little Brothers and Sisters," an organization associated with Friends of the Orphans (www.friendsoftheorphans.org) here in the States. I will be living just outside Port-Au-Prince, in Tabarre, establishing regular medical care for children living in a temporary facility built out of necessity after the earthquake. These children were orphaned or abandoned during or after the quake. My heart leaps to be able to serve and love them.
I look back at the last several years of my life and am awed to see how my heart has been formed and deepened to this point. I have been privileged to meet and serve the impoverished citizens of both my immediate city and tiny Nicaraguan villages, to wash the feet of Jesus as He has healed and honored me through the poor. Poverty is a word with many elements - material poverty, poverty of spirit, poverty of isolation, poverty of not having known love, poverty of suffering the premature judgment of others. The list continues. And yet, as I have encountered countless examples of those deemed "poor," I have received lessons in character, determination, strength, joy and the ever-critical virtue of Hope, the confident expectation of good. It is a tremendous gift to be the hands and feet of Jesus.
My mission field for the past few years has been the cardiac floor at an excellent children's hospital, spending time with some of extraordinary little heroes and their courageous parents. I have loved my days there. I heard about the earthquake in Haiti during a shift, and had a passing thought about the people, a far-away picture that started to form in my head. I had never thought of traveling to Haiti. It seemed a world away from what I knew. And yet, as the devastation became more present through the media outlets, my heart stirred and I knew I had to be there. With no trauma training, I offered my services but expected to be recruited once the horror was lessened, to perform clinic nursing. I was fortunately wrong, and had the privilege to travel with a disaster-relief team 11 days after the quake. My world was forever changed. I encountered the extremes of devastation, the horror of life-threatening injuries made complicated by weeks without care, heard and participated in stories not plausible in the American narrative. And yet, even as I declared patients dead, looked into trauma-filled eyes and examined infectious, festering wounds, I felt hope. I played with the children and heard them laugh, through the pain of amputated limbs. I saw a people determined to keep living.
Haiti has not left me for a moment since my return so many months ago. I have yearned to return there and demonstrate commitment to the people, to show in the power of the Return that I meant what I felt during my time there. The stirring in my heart became so loud that I visited the possibility of a more permanent placement. After an advent of discernment and the counsel of close friends, I decided to take the plunge. I applied to and was offered a position with NPH, and am thrilled, excited and just a tad anxious as the date of departure draws ever-closer. The prospect of living without the amenities afforded to me here in the States is intimidating, as I count each hot shower and cup of fresh hot coffee, attempt to learn French, plan and carry out fundraising events, and maintain employment. The world grows ever smaller, thanks to the continuing evolvement of technology, and I look forward to sharing my journey with you as I give updates, and as I yearn for voices from home.
More to come. Thanks for reading!
