Don't Pedestalize Me!

A rather awkward and uncomfortable side to this life is the “pedestalization” which we undergo as missionaries. During a refreshing and grounded conversation with two visitors, both volunteers who survived the earthquake and have returned since to work, we spoke of how we have all reacted adversely to the near-idolization we have all experienced. It is a disturbing phenomenon, though understandable, as I have certainly fallen guilty of the same type of thinking, about friends and popular personalities.  During my visit home, I heard many say, “I could never do what you do – I think it is amazing and you are amazing!” or the like. One aspect of that statement is true – the work in which I have the privilege of participating is truly amazing and awe-inducing. But I must disagree with the other two parts of the comment!

To those who think that they could “never” do what I am doing – all I ask is that you respond to the urging that is in your heart to serve in whatever capacity God is calling you to. I am a firm believer that we are given the grace to do exactly what is asked of us in the moment, whether it is working in the orphanages and hospitals of Haiti or caring for the home you live in, cooking dinner for your family; whether it is working long hours at your chosen profession or spending the day in prayer or meditation within the confines of your room, whether creating the best artwork you can or diligently working a difficult job to provide for those you love. The fact is that if you are responding to or pursuing the desire of your heart, if you are doing what you believe is right, and if you are determined to leave the world changed a bit for the better, then you are doing the exact same thing I am doing. The ways that our lives and gifts are used are different, but are no less important if spent within the same few square miles, versus the corners of the world. I remember holding myself to a ridiculous standard, believing that there was no mission or profession as noble as that of international missions, and that any job I might look for in the States would not be enough for God to be satisfied with me. What a lie! I have had the privilege of working in the developing world for many years since my first college graduation 12 years ago, but just as critical was my summer working as a home health care aide, caring for a woman with post-polio syndrome and spending hours each night making her comfortable. Just as important was learning to host at a restaurant, or learning good customer service at a local bread franchise, or cleaning the bathrooms at a medical office.

During the four years I spent working at an elite hospital, caring for critically ill children and their families, I still had yearnings for international work, but thank goodness I was able to begin learning from my little patients and their absolutely heroic parents. Their mission was to love their little children through perilous surgery and recovery, with potentially years of chronic illness. For some it became sharing their grief publicly and reaching others with an excruciating legacy. Over and over and over again in my mind and heart, I could observe how personal each individual's mission is meant to be. And just as important to one family member as the nurse caring for their child, might be the cleanliness of the room or the quality of the food or the freshness of clean blankets or sheets, or the availability of a particular toy or movie, or the heat or cold in the room, or the smile on the face of the person transporting them to surgery. These aspects of patient care had nothing to do with how good of a nurse I was – they were provided by people perhaps seen as behind the scenes or brushed off without a second thought.

And to the third part of the statement – the “you are amazing” part – it could not be more untrue! As my fellow volunteers and I will gladly attest and willingly admit, we are sorely human, the weakest of the weak. I have negative thoughts, I have experienced depression and given in to despair, I complain, I doubt my abilities, I am sure I annoy my roommate, (though she is too kind to say anything), I miss the creature comforts of home, I obsess over what I will wear to work (yes, even here!), and I could go on indefinitely about my negative attributes. We are all usually good at doing so. The underlying wonderful gift in this situation we must be willing to recognize is that we are inherently weak and imperfect, but we are given a remarkable opportunity. We are entrusted with the formidable task and responsibility of living this life in the service of others. This much may go against the popular grain of “looking out for Number One,” which seems to be the trend. But I can assure you that when, in spite of (or even because of) my weakness and acknowledged ineptness, I step forward in solidarity and choose to humbly walk in acceptance of my imperfection, a perfect love can be demonstrated through me. That is the amazing part – the Power that works through imperfect, fragile people and affects transformation in minds, hearts and lives. The Power that changes the world.

Home to a Foreign Land

"The people I have met are the wonders of my world." - Adele

Ti Erline, happier and so healthy now!

A few of my entourage

The girls patiently wait for their Christmas gifts

New outfits!

Wilner and Antoine, adorable big and little brother

I sit here recovering from the whirlwind that has been the past three weeks... the journey to the States for a visit, the return “home” to a foreign land, the re-immersion into this culture, the massive influx of visitors for the anniversary of the earthquake, the emotion of loss and remembrance, the completion of the first statistical report for the FWAL clinic... Phew. I have commented before that countless moments fill each day, and it makes it difficult to capture all of them.

The visit with family and friends was packed with activity, much more than I anticipated. The “down time” I thought I might have never actually occurred – but it was wonderful to see faces and look into the eyes of precious loved ones, to relate just a bit of my experience when time and interest allowed. It is a truly strange spectrum of emotions as I re-entered the American culture while carrying so much of Haiti within my mind and heart. Much of the visit felt surreal, much like my first few weeks here in Haiti did. And even more surreal was the packing up and returning here after a few short days. Friends and family were extremely generous with donations of supplies, vitamins and toys...due to the holiday constraints on checked baggage, not all of them made it here yet, but they are coming! Kudos to my former co-workers and two cherished patient families – the kids got new underwear, and the girls got some awesomely cool hair accessories, as part of their Christmas pile of presents. The look on their faces was priceless as they opened their bags.

My view from the clinic, first day back - the kids couldn't get enough of me!

The children have embraced me just a little more tightly since I came back. We actually made a stop at St. Louis on the way back from the airport, just to say hello. Oh, the love I experience from them! Their eyes lit up, and my smile did as well. “You came back?” they asked as they hugged me. Then, “Did you bring candy?” (Of course, the obvious follow-up question!) The power of the return is strong. And yes, I did bring candy. As we participated in the events of this week, from the joy of Christmas gift distribution to the bittersweet morning of Visitors' Day, to the mass at Titanyen, the site of the thousands of mass graves after the earthquake, to the noon mass yesterday just outside the chapel at the hospital, I have studied their faces, fallen even more in love with them, and have been extremely proud of them as they have behaved so well! These kids are the epitome of living in the moment and dancing, no matter the circumstances. I am blessed to care for these little heroes.

Yesterday I finished a report detailing the operations of the Angels of Light clinic over the past four months, and as I have compiled information and added numbers, I began to feel like a proud mother – the three nurses I work with have been diligent and purposeful in their work since I have arrived. They have allowed me into their lives and their practice, and have responded positively to the changes we have begun to make. They have completed basic blood and other admission examinations on nearly all the chidren, begun a new way of documentation, learned Excel, (two of them had never touched a computer before!), organized the charts with completely new paperwork, entered daily and monthly statistics, managed supplies and medications more efficiently, given two rounds of vaccinations to all 183 children, all while managing a workload of approximately 500 visits to the clinic each month! They are faith-filled, have fabulous senses of humor, and very much want to learn more. They stated that their number one need for the coming year was more education, so yours truly has a long list of subjects to condense and teach. What a blessing to work with women who want to improve their practice and care more holistically for the children in their charge.

In talking to a former volunteer and some dear friends, I have adopted the word “heavy” as one of the best descriptors of this experience. I had a huge amount of anxiety as I packed the night before my return, and I could feel the weight of Haiti reintroducing itself. This is neither good nor bad – just fact. This is a hard life, a challenging culture, a massive amount of emotion requiring constant effort at the maintenance of composure, countless numbers of suffering people, blazing sunlight as it illuminates a broken country, the crisis of the moment dictating the order of the day. It is also genuine laughter, the comfort of touch and truth in conversation, the raw experience of love in its truest form, the joy of children whose spirits will not be stifled. It is the weight of poverty compounded with the challenge of promoting change for people so used to years of failure and disappointment. “If God wills,” is how every goodbye is ended. God willing we are still alive tomorrow, I will see you again. Ugh -how sobering! It is a constant in my mind to want to respond, “Well, yes, of course – that is an understood with me – but let's actively hope for the promise of tomorrow!” The fragility of hope presents itself to me on a regular basis. So I say, “Always.” That is how we must live – in hope, the expectation of good, of another day, while living the present to the fullest we can, willing to accept that tomorrow may not come, but not allowing that possibility to be cause for fear. Let it simply motivate us to be truly present to those in front of us, aware and responsive to how we may best be used to love and care for them in the time we are given with them.

Marching On

"Where pain, loss and suffering are present, the grace of God is present even more." Fr. Rick Frechette

It has been a quiet day here, as the country pauses to reflect on the horrible losses of this day two years ago. Yesterday we journeyed out to the site of the mass graves in Titanyen, where thousands of people were buried out of necessity. We stood over their graves and celebrated mass, where Fr. Rick spoke of the humiliation poverty brings and the absolute imperative that we must dig into the deepest core of ourselves, never forgetting the compassion which is a critical part of this life, for the living, for the dead, and for each moment between birth and death. Today at midday, the bell at the chapel rang as the names of the dead from the NPH family were read. These names include two American volunteers who gave their lives in service to the Haitians. Three more foreign volunteers were pulled from the rubble of the hospital and survived, and have since returned to Haiti to work with the people they love.

My life was changed two years ago today, in ways which I had yet to know. Having never given Haiti a second thought, I watched the coverage of the earthquake and my heart was absolutely compelled to be here. Through the work of providence, I was on a flight 11 days later, and was privileged to work alongside some true American and Haitian heroes caring for the injured and suffering. We witnessed births and deaths, miracles and tragedies. And my heart was deepened more than I thought possible. Over the subsequent months, as you know, I listened and waited for the right time to make a career change, as God continued to work on my heart. And I can tell you that I would be nowhere else but here today. Haiti does not reach the headlines much anymore, with the exception of days like today, when the worldwide media outlets write the progress of the country since the earthquake in a negative light. What is not reported are the massive changes and improvements that HAVE occurred here, and how organizations are diligently working to repair the damage the country has endured and sustained over the last 200 years, before the devastation of the earthquake was even present. I am honored to care for 200 of Haiti's littlest heroes, children who embrace life, love with their entire selves and are the embodiment of hope. Haiti marches on, Haiti will not die, and Haiti cannot die.

If living and working here has taught me anything, it is to be present to those important to you, to truly give them your attention, to validate them, love them, listen to them and dignify them. Cherish those whose lives have influenced yours, and do not rule out new opportunities or possibilities. Relish the moments you are given with the ones you love, and for goodness's sake, tell those in your life how you feel about them! We are all desperate to know we are loved and important, and in the age of crazy, instant technology and material overload, the basics of relationships are often forgotten. Yet they are the most important.

As an aside, and appropriate for today, the following article gives some perspective in response to the numerous outcries about how money is not being spent in Haiti....
http://www.huffingtonpost.com/dave-mudcat-saunders/haiti-usaid-reconstruction_b_1199254.html