tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-41655090021995979692024-03-13T10:22:41.163-07:00T in HaitiTeresahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01459386384051275908noreply@blogger.comBlogger63125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4165509002199597969.post-4457218914243176702014-01-03T11:25:00.003-08:002014-01-03T11:25:53.702-08:00NEW BLOG: Stateside THi, Everyone!<br />
You can find me now at statesidet.blogspot.com<br />
See you there!Teresahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01459386384051275908noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4165509002199597969.post-30127765062448940422013-12-13T20:26:00.000-08:002013-12-13T20:26:52.192-08:00Au Revoir HaitiThis is my last week in Haiti. Tomorrow we fly back to the "Night 'n States", as Eleanor calls it. It was a good week... working at the clinic, spending time with my mom and sister, saying goodbye to friends in Haiti. It doesn't really seem real that I won't be coming back in January. Just feels like a normal Christmas break, except for the 11 suitcases in our house, holding all our stuff from the past 12 years or so. <br />
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My favorite moment of this last week in Haiti happened last Sunday. The children in the Sunday School program decided to give me a little show. They put a chair up front for me to sit in, and then presented me with a gift. Several little girls got up and each sang a song or recited a poem. One of the girls sang a song of thanks to the Lord. She had such a sweet voice, and seeing her there, standing on the cement floor of the school classroom with the morning sun streaming in the door behind her, lighting up her flowery Sunday-best dress and ribboned hair, I couldn't help but think, "I'm going to miss this". This place, these people, my Haiti home.<br />
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After the children presented me with my gift, it was time for me to go to "big church" and speak a few words of goodbye to the congregation. I told them that God was leading us back to the U.S. and that I wasn't quite sure how to live there anymore, after so many years in Haiti. I shared with them how I had been studying Jesus' words in Revelation to the church in Laodicea, and how His admonishments to that church reminded me of America. They said they were rich and had need of nothing, but they were poor, naked, and blind. I told the congregation I am heading back to America to be a missionary there to those who are spiritually poor, naked, and blind. Then I encouraged them to be missionaries right where they are. The best missionary is the one who doesn't need to learn the language or cultural mores, because they have known and practiced them since childhood. The best missionaries are the Christians in the neighborhood, at the market, in the home.<br />
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And so, we are going back to our native language and culture with the gospel. We're going to be a missionaries in our neighborhood, our marketplace, and our home. Look out, America. Here we come!<br />
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<br />Teresahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01459386384051275908noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4165509002199597969.post-32487955777317561112013-11-19T14:14:00.001-08:002013-11-19T14:14:22.040-08:00Time To Move On<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
Big news! For everyone who has not
heard through the grapevine already, the Price family is moving to
Alabama in December. After 12 years on the field for me, and 6 years
for my husband (and for my children-all their lives), we feel that it
is time to return to the United States. When I originally came to
Haiti, I gave a tentative two year commitment. As the years passed
by, I continued to feel that God had more work for me here in Haiti.
I have always prayed that the Lord would make it clear to me when it
was time to leave. I also prayed that it wouldn't be a huge tragedy
or major event or interpersonal issue that forced me to leave. It
seems that God is answering my prayer. We are not dissatisfied or
traumatized – we just feel it is time to move on to what God has in
store for us next.</div>
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We will relocate to northeastern
Alabama, near my husband's hometown and family. He has accepted a job
with a Christian optometrist, and I will try my hand at being a
stay-at-home mom. Of course, being a missionary is all I have ever
wanted to do with my life, but I think there are plenty of mission
opportunities everywhere in the world (even Alabama!), so I'll keep
an eye out for them and dive in when the opportunity arises. And who
knows? Maybe God will lead us overseas again in the future.</div>
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I would like to thank Community
Christian Church for their faithful support over the years. They have
been such an encouragement to me and such an example of what it means
to demonstrate the community of fellow believers. Other supporting
churches that I would like to thank are Lake Eustis Christian Church,
Harvest Community Church, and Hope Evangelical Free Church of Roscoe.
Thank you, also, Community KIDZ, who have been special supporters and
have brought joy to my heart all these years. To all my faithful
individual supporters, I cannot express what a blessing you have been
to me and to the Haitian people through your selfless giving. May God
reward you greatly!</div>
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For those of my supporters who have a
heart for Haiti and would like to continue giving towards mission
activities here, I would recommend the following:</div>
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</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
Fellowship of Christian Optometrists,
Christian Vision Eye Services to Haiti (the mission my husband is
part of... they will still be continuing the construction on the new
eye clinic and are actively recruiting a new missionary optometrist).
For more information, go to www.cvesh.kk5.org
</div>
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Haiti Health Ministries (the mission
started by Dr. Jim and Sandy Wilkins, who currently run the clinic
where I work). Construction continues on the new clinic building, and
as always, donations are used to help patients who cannot pay for
medicines or procedures or surgeries, and for formula and protein for
malnourished children and adults. For more information, go to
www.haitihealthministries.org</div>
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</div>
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Christianville Foundation (the mission
where we live). Donations are used to support Christian schools and
churches as well as other community development projects. For more
information, go to www.christianvillehaiti.org</div>
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Thank you again for all your support
and prayers through the years. Stay tuned for a few more blogs. We
haven't left yet!</div>
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Teresahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01459386384051275908noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4165509002199597969.post-23897836304778635872013-10-27T12:46:00.000-07:002013-10-27T12:46:32.741-07:00Discrepancies Usually, when I go home to the States, I find myself getting irritated at people. It's a displaced irritation. I'm not actually upset at the people themselves, but instead at the discrepancies between how we live in the U.S. and how the Haitians live here. For instance, the time when I watched a woman hemorrhage in my car for seven hours after giving birth, while I tried to find her help at four different hospitals. Then I went home to watch my friend have her baby in a luxury birthing suite with monitors and epidural anesthesia and round the clock nursing care, and I found myself getting irritated. It wasn't my friend's fault that her birthing experience was a good one. It was just the huge difference in available medical options between one place and another that was bothering me. Or the year when we went home and wanted a 'simple Christmas' but ended up receiving eighty five hundred gifts for the kids. I couldn't help feeling irritated, knowing that my Haitian friends were celebrating Christmas by going to church and eating a meal together that might include meat as a special treat. It wasn't my family's fault for wanting to rain down gifts on the children they see only twice a year. It was just the great gulf between excess and want that frustrated me.<br />
A few weeks ago, I found myself suffering from this displaced irritation once again. And this time, I wasn't in the States. It happened right here in my home. A couple of the boys from the Jacmel boys' home came to visit me and talk about the food situation in the house. Apparently, the money for their monthly food allowance is not sufficient, and they have been without food for a couple weeks. They were hungry and frustrated, so they came to visit me and talk it over. When they arrived, I asked them how their families were. Usually, a Haitian will reply "doing well" or "fine, thank the Lord" or something of that nature. But these boys replied "ou konnen mis, sa'k mouri, mouri". That means "you know, those that have died are dead." Jean Robert lost a teenage cousin to cholera two weeks ago, and has another relative in the hospital recovering from cholera. Elira lost a sister with obstetrical complications a few months ago. So, the boys were suffering loss, and they were hungry. We talked for awhile, trying to resolve the food issue, then I sent them on their way with a little something for the road. As they were leaving, my daughter started to scream. I had served her lunch right before the boys arrived. I gave her a fork to eat her macaroni and cheese with. She was screaming because she wanted a spoon. She refused to eat the food with a fork. I got irritated and said to her, "We just had starving people in our house and you are crying about a fork?" I'm sure my four year old daughter didn't understand what I was referring to or care in the least, and I shouldn't have expected her to. She's just a little girl who prefers spoons to forks. I wasn't really irritated with her. I was irritated, and a little ashamed, at the discrepancy between how we live and how those around us do.<br />
Teresahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01459386384051275908noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4165509002199597969.post-80148384871837752462013-09-14T08:53:00.000-07:002013-09-14T08:53:18.902-07:00Twelve Years In Haiti<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
I moved to Haiti September 4, 2001. The
following is a brief synopsis of my time here
since then.</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<b><u>Year One</u></b>: I miss my nephew, Lukey! I
meet Margarethe, deliver my first baby, and tend to a little burned
boy: Jean Dony. The clinic starts functioning and the patients come
en masse.</div>
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<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<b><u>Year Two</u></b>: I move from a cot in the
dorms to an air mattress in my new apartment above the clinic.
Communication with the outside world moves from satellite-phone-only
to the internet. Tooth-pulling Tuesdays begin.</div>
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<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<b><u>Year Three</u></b>: Davidson Jean Phillippe, my
first godchild, is born. I begin teaching baptism classes for the
local youth. Chelsea and I spend two weeks in a Haitian house.
</div>
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<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<b><u>Year Four</u></b>: Danny and Leann join the
Seguin team. I turn 30 while cliff jumping in the Dominican Repulic.
Danny and Leann move on to Jacmel, and I'm once again alone on the
mountain.
</div>
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<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<b><u>Year Five:</u></b> I float down a river in my
Land Cruiser (oh, the irony!). Cell phone reception makes its way to Seguin, and I make my first call to friends in Port from inside my Seguin apartment.</div>
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<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<b><u>Year Six</u></b>: Jessica spends six months on
the mountain with me. Other wonderful interns come and go. In the
end, I'm once again alone on the mountain. At the urging of friends,
advisors, and the Holy Spirit, I give my six months' notice and pray
about where God wants me next.</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<b><u>Year Seven</u></b>: I visit Christianville at
the invitation of Jim and Sandy. I meet Ryan. I move to
Christianville. Later, I start dating Ryan, and we get engaged under
a waterfall.</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<b><u>Year Eight:</u></b> Ryan and I are married.
Pregnancy immediately follows. Really. Immediately. Nine months
later, Eleanor Nancy Price is born. I move from full time at the
clinic to part time.</div>
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<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<b><u>Year Nine</u></b>: Our bodies, living
arrangements, work environments, relationships, and perceptions are
shaken to the core by the earthquake of January 12, 2010.</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<b><u>Year Ten:</u></b> Our family grows to four, as
Titus Christopher Price is born. I start a Children's Church program
at Lasalle Church, and begin teaching Creole Grammar classes to
American missionaries.</div>
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<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<u><b>Year Eleven</b></u>: Jim and Sandy move down
the road, and I get used to working in the UNICEF tents with them. My
sister and her family move to Haiti and live within walking distance
of me (yippee!).
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<b><u>Year Twelve</u></b>: Our family grows once
again when we welcome our second boy, Samuel George Price. My sister
and her family move back to the States (boo!). Construction begins on
a new eye clinic. I continue working part time at the medical clinic,
teaching Creole classes, and creating curriculum for the Children's
Church program. I stay connected to Seguin via a latrine
project, a Boys' Home for mountain boys that need to go to High
School in the city, and through hosting many Seguin friends who come
visit us at Christianville.</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
Community Christian Church supports my
ministry.... from year one all the way up to the present!</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
Here are some of my favorite pictures. The little boy standing with Eleanor was born the day after the quake, in front of my house. The older woman and child are Margarethe's mother in law and Margarethe's fourth child. God has been faithful to both Margarethe and me and has brought us quite a ways since those early days in 2001.</div>
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Teresahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01459386384051275908noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4165509002199597969.post-58948350404007153972013-08-30T09:13:00.000-07:002013-08-30T09:13:22.530-07:00Haiti's Travelin' Blind ManMany of you know Roger, Seguin's loudest blind man. He's a tall, thin man who used to beg loudly on my front porch when I lived in the mountains. We gave him a job as a human megaphone, calling out patient names for us. Now that the clinic is closed, he is out of work and relies on charity to makes ends meet.<br />
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Roger is not only known for his loud voice, but also for his travelling ways. Even though Seguin is a mountainous place with narrow, slippery clay trails and deep ravines, Roger uses his wooden cane to feel his way around and walk by himself over miles of terrain. Once, Roger was crossing a very narrow bridge that spans an 80 foot ravine when he ran into someone. He yelled at the person, saying, "What's wrong with you? Don't you know I'm blind? Watch where you're going!" The person answered him, "Roger? Is that you?" It was Roger's cousin.... who is also blind. The two men laughed about it afterwards.<br />
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Once I moved to Christianville, I expected to see much less of Roger. I've only been able to visit Seguin a few times since my move. Roger, however, was not satisfied with a visit every few years, so he decided to come see me. And he has... several times, and always by himself. Just recently he visited me, sporting a new T-shirt with vampires on it, some old shoes with soles that were coming un-glued, and his usual smile. He needed help with school for his children. In order to come ask me for help, Roger had to ride no less than three motorcycle taxis, two tap-taps, and a bus. Then he had to repeat that process to return home. He told me one of the tap-taps he was riding broke down and he had to overnight in Jacmel. I didn't have the heart to ask him how and where he overnighted there. Roger is a brave man. Possibly, the most well-travelled blind man in Haiti.<br />
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<br />Teresahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01459386384051275908noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4165509002199597969.post-48297142455417791222013-07-15T13:09:00.003-07:002013-07-15T13:09:57.082-07:00My Third Culture Kid<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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Eleanor, my firstborn, turned 4 this past week. We threw her a party that included American missionary friends and Haitian neighborhood friends. There was pin-the-hat-on-the-Minnie-Mouse, a craft, and lots of running around and general noise-making. There were no presents, though. That was on purpose. Being the third culture kid that she is, she doesn't know there are supposed to be presents at a birthday party, and she doesn't have any commercials on television or friends from school telling her that there should be presents.<br />
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There has been a lot written lately about third culture kids, with all the international travel that happens now. For those of you who haven't ever heard of the term, it refers to a child who is raised in a country other than their parents' country of origin. So, the child is exposed to one culture at home, and another outside the home, leading them to adapt by forming their own 'third culture'. I think my kids are too young to really exhibit a lot of third culture behavior, but one thing I have noticed is that they are very adaptable. They are accustomed to bumpy roads, rain on the tin roof, and sleeping under mosquito nets. But they also do just fine in air conditioning, eating fish sticks and watching cable t.v. I love how adaptable they are. I love that living in Haiti means that Eleanor didn't ask for an American Girl doll this year, because she has no idea what that is. What I don't love, however, is that sometimes living in Haiti means I can't give my kids what they ask for. This year, Eleanor wanted strawberry cupcakes with flowers on top, and a helium balloon ('like the one Mimi had') for her birthday. Two simple requests that would have been so easy to fulfill in the States. Here in Haiti, though, it was a pretty tall order. Even the fanciest grocery store in Port au Prince didn't carry strawberry cake mix this month, and the only place in town that advertised helium balloons could only fill an order for a large quantity, not a single balloon or two. So, Ryan and I improvised. I bought a white cake mix and dyed it pink. Ryan's uncle Jerry told us that pennies in muriatic acid would create hydrogen that would float a balloon. Ryan tried this technique, and I was upset that I wasn't home to see his attempts. Apparently they involved oven mitts, safety goggles, and a mad dash out the door. In the end, the balloons didn't float. So, when all was said and done, Eleanor got a birthday party with friends that involved pink cupcakes and nine red balloons (some of which appeared to float using the magic of duct tape). How did my third culture kid respond? Well.......<br />
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I think she liked it just fine!</div>
<br />Teresahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01459386384051275908noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4165509002199597969.post-47404011350361977992013-06-26T08:11:00.000-07:002013-07-15T12:24:09.206-07:00The Godmother, Part 2: The Graduation<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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Well, Makenson Luc did it! He graduated! And fellow missionary Marie, Samuel, and I got to attend and experience his graduation in all its glory. We arrived at 9:30am and the ceremony ended at 3:30pm, so it was truly an all-day cultural experience. The ceremony included the following highlights:<br />
-processional<br />
-singing of the national anthem<br />
-singing of the Pocahantas theme song<br />
-introduction and standing ovation for Jean Claude Duvalier ("Baby Doc"), Haiti's ex-president/dictator<br />
-singing of the Lion King theme song<br />
-a sexy dance<br />
-a speech in French from Baby Doc Duvalier, which included a list of all the possible professions these young students might enjoy in the future ('deposed dictator' didn't make the list)<br />
-another sexy dance<br />
-the mash up of a sexy song and Ave Maria<br />
-giving out of diplomas<br />
-a fashion show of outfits from 'around the world', including beach attire (Jamaica?), country attire (Seguin?), city attire (New York?), and a turban and metal arm bands (???). This particular part of the program was the most popular, winning hoots and hollers from the crowd (and looks of confusion from the Americans in the audience).<br />
-more giving out of diplomas<br />
-reciting a poem about being a student. The most interesting line of this poem was "the rich in Haiti eat three times a day, the poor in Haiti eat three times a year"<br />
-more giving out of diplomas<br />
-the passing of the 'torch' from the senior to the junior class<br />
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The ceremony did not, however, involve the godparents giving any speeches or formally presenting any gifts to the graduates, which was a huge relief to me. I enjoyed giving my gift and words of encouragement privately.<br />
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The graduation may have been long and confusing to me, but it didn't lessen the fact that Makenson finished high school, amidst all the obstacles he faced. I'm proud of him and I pray God guides him in the next stage of his life and education, which often can be more arduous than high school here in Haiti. Develop your future, Makenson. I hope it's a bright one!<br />
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Teresahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01459386384051275908noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4165509002199597969.post-73223880351025892552013-05-29T06:55:00.000-07:002013-05-29T06:55:17.902-07:00The Godmother, Part One Being a godmother here in Haiti is a pretty common thing. They have godparents for everything. Children, marriages, graduations, any big life event. Not only do the Catholic Haitians do this, but all Haitians seem to do this. So, needless to say, I've been asked to be a godmother quite often. It is the responsibility of the godparent to financially and emotionally support the person in certain respects (sometimes in all respects). Often, I decline. "No, mesi. Not this time, sorry!" That is my typical response. However, I have said 'yes' on occasion. I am the godmother to several children here. Sonson (Margarethe's son) is one of my 'fyel' - godchildren, as well as a couple other children that I delivered. I have varying degrees of responsibility with them all. <br />
A few weeks ago, Mackenson asked me to be the godmother of his graduation. Normally, I would have given him my pat answer "No, mesi. Not this time, sorry!" But, his case is different. I first met Mackenson about seven years ago, when he came to my clinic as a young teenager with an injured leg. He had been dragged by a horse and had some muscle damage. I told him he might need to go to the hospital. He cried. I didn't know it then, but he wasn't crying from the pain or from fear of being hospitalized. He was crying because he was a restavek and he was afraid that his family would not like spending money on him at the hospital. He was correct. Shortly after his injury, while he was recovering, his foster family told him they didn't want him anymore, because he would be more expensive now that he was 'injured' and couldn't work hard. He had to find a different place to live. This is when the boys' home started. We rented him and several other boys a home in Jacmel where they could continue their schooling under the supervision of a Christian chaperone. Mackenson did well in the home, and has come to his last year of school. He graduates on June 22 of this year. Through these past seven years, I've given him advice from time to time, listened to his struggles and hopes and dreams, tried to find him work, and generally filled in the role of a concerned family member for him. He has a mother who lives very far away and is ill. His father is deceased. So, when Mackenson asked me to be the godmother at his graduation, I realized I would be the only 'family' representing him there, and I just had to say 'yes'. <br />
Here's the catch: the graduation is a big ceremony. There will be hundreds of people there. The godparents have an actual speaking role at the ceremony. There are specific things I am expected to say and do and bring. And, ex-president Duvalier (you may know him as "Baby Doc") will be officially presiding over the affair. So, no pressure.<br />
I had a big sit-down talk with Mackenson the other day, where I took notes about all that I needed to prepare for. The big event happens in less than a month. I'll let you know how it goes!<br />
<br />Teresahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01459386384051275908noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4165509002199597969.post-40561783106409293192013-04-15T12:03:00.001-07:002013-04-15T12:03:42.026-07:00Samuel George Price<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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He arrived! Samuel George Price was born at 2:11pm on Monday, April 1st after 12 hours of pitocin and 6 minutes of pushing. He weighed 8 pounds 6 ounces and was about 20 inches long (the nurses had to guestimate because he was wriggling so much). He has been hungry and growing ever since. He likes to eat every 1.5 hours, which is good for him, but difficult for mommy, especially at night! He really likes to take in his surroundings between 2 and 6am. His brother and sister think he's "so cute", but otherwise ignore him. They are busy playing with their extended family and going to preschool two days a week.<br />
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We are planning to return to Haiti as soon as his passport comes, but apparently that might take longer than we've experienced in the past. We're still waiting on his social security card. Please pray that paperwork comes quickly. We love being with family, but we are needed back in Haiti in May.<br />
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Thank you all for your prayers for a smooth and healthy delivery and for a healthy baby. God is good! It's amazing what He can accomplish in nine months!<br />
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Teresahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01459386384051275908noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4165509002199597969.post-73972354267199121942013-03-28T15:47:00.000-07:002013-03-28T15:47:05.331-07:00Bearing FruitWell, we're in the United States for awhile. We came here to wait for baby Price number three to be born. He's due in early April, and I convinced my OB to induce me on April 1st. So, it's T minus 4 days till blast-off. I am definitely ready!<br />
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While I've been sitting around, waiting for the baby to come, I've taken up reading. Lots and lots of books. Some fiction, just to fall asleep to. Some non-fiction and self-help books. One of the books that I've read that would fall into the latter category is "Loving the Little Years" by Rachel Jankovic. In her book, she mentioned something that really helped me put some of my ministry activities into perspective. It's the idea that God calls us to bear fruit, and after that, the rest is His job. For instance, an apple tree that bears apples every year is a great tree, whether people come to pick those apples and eat them, or whether the apples fall to the ground and rot. Doesn't matter, the tree did its job. It bore apples. In the same way, God calls us to bear fruit, regardless of the outcome. I needed this reminder, because sometimes Haiti can be a bit of a black hole. Many efforts, little results.<br />
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Here's an example: Since I have had to cut back my hours at the clinic to only afternoons (because of my sweet little ones), I have taken up teaching Creole to various missionaries who were interested in learning the language to better minister to the Haitian people. In the past year or two, I've taught Creole to 22 students. Of those 22 missionaries, only 9 of them are still in Haiti and able to daily use anything they learned in our classes. I was beginning to feel discouraged and wonder if I should keep up the lessons, but God reminded me that it doesn't matter what happens to the fruit... I just need to bear it.<br />
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So, as I tell my patients for the eightieth time to eat less sugar, or exercise more, or take their meds correctly; as I teach more missionaries Creole; as I make lessons for Children's Church and put them in the hands of the Haitian volunteer teachers.... I try to remember God's encouragement to us all as we work for Him, found in Galatians 6 verse 9:<br />
"And let us not grow weary while doing good, for in due season we shall reap if we do not lose heart."<br />
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<br />Teresahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01459386384051275908noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4165509002199597969.post-19054004040319883652013-02-21T08:09:00.001-08:002013-02-21T08:09:15.634-08:00Hair, Babies, and Missionary ActivitiesSometimes, being a missionary means doing some odd things. I guess that doesn't come as a surprise to people who know me... I've been doing odd things for a long time. Lately, you will find me showing up to work in crazily braided hair on occasion. It's my way of connecting with a young mother in my neighborhood. Marjorie comes to my house every so often to braid my hair, and while she does, we talk, get to know each other, and I offer counsel when I can.<br />
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Marjorie and I had an interesting conversation the other day. She noticed my hugely pregnant belly and asked me when the baby was due. Then she asked me where I was going to have the baby. When I told her I was planning to go back to the States to give birth, she asked me "Why?" I suppose that sounds like a fair enough question, until you consider Marjorie's labor and delivery history. Marjorie's first baby, Ledson, was born just outside my front gate, on the grass of the parking lot. It was January 13, 2010. That's the day after the big quake. The earthquake sent her into labor, and the morning afterwards she came to find someone to help deliver her baby, but we were all in the church building, wading through hoards of injured and dying patients. So, she just squatted by our front gate and began to push. Thankfully, there were a few missionary ladies on the compound that were non-medical, so they weren't at the church with the rest of us. They saw Marjorie in her distress, called for some supplies, and helped deliver Ledson. He's three years old now, and doing great. Marjorie's second baby, Samuel, was born at the local hospital. It's a Doctors Without Borders hospital that was set up after the earthquake. Most of the "buildings" consist of large tents. The birthing center is a large tent with ten or so beds in a row, separated by nothing but air and screams. The women who are currently pushing are placed on the beds, while the women who are in active labor but not yet ready to push squat on the floor or walk around the tent in agony. When Marjorie and her mother arrived at the hospital to give birth, all of the beds were full. Marjorie joined the laboring, groaning, milling-about crowd until she just couldn't take it any longer. She told her mother she just had to push, at which point her mother directed her out of the maternity tent and into the medical-surgical tent next store. They found an empty bed there, and, assisted by no one but her mother, Marjorie gave birth to Samuel. After he was born, his cries alerted the staff and they came over to scold her profusely for daring to give birth in the medical-surgical tent. So, when Marjorie asked me why I was going back to the States to have my baby, I thought in my head, "Ledson and Samuel! That right there is why I'm going Stateside!" But I tried to answer her more diplomatically. I explained that there is better neonatal care in the U.S., and since my first baby had some problems breathing after birth, I feel more comfortable giving birth at a hospital that is set up for good emergency care of neonates. I didn't mention to her that I am also a big fan of epidurals and pain medicine and privacy curtains! I would appreciate all your prayers that this little guy waits until we are Stateside (we leave March 2nd) to make his appearance.Teresahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01459386384051275908noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4165509002199597969.post-73623122806268270892013-01-26T11:42:00.000-08:002013-01-26T11:42:28.492-08:00Tragedy and an Important Question On January 11, I met my friends Tim and Mary, along with their group of American medical missionary volunteers, at a gas station near my home. They were on their way from Port au Prince to Seguin to spend a week giving free medical care to the Haitians in Seguin. I needed to give them some medicines they had requested, so we met up at the gas station. Tim and Mary and I hugged, and I spoke briefly with a woman and her husband who were eager to get to Seguin and start setting up the clinic. We didn't chat long, because they had a long journey to Seguin ahead of them, but they peeked and waved at my kids who were waiting in the car, and then I wished them all a fun week with no "FTA" (fun travel adventures) and a safe journey, and headed home. Several hours later, I got word that their caravan of four cars had been in an accident. After some tense moments and phone calls, we finally pieced together a horrible, tragic story. The fourth car in the caravan had lost control on a steep mountain pass and gone over the edge of a precipitous cliff, killing all aboard, except the driver. Among those who lost their lives was Mary. She has two children and a husband at home in the States who have been sending her off with prayers for years on her regular mission trips to Haiti. The husband and wife duo that I had met at the gas station were also victims and lost their lives. They leave two children behind. And the fourth victim was a 24 year old young man whose father was also on the trip, in a different vehicle. It was this young man's first trip to Haiti. The driver is a Haitian man who has worked with Tim for some time now and helps to translate during the medical trips. He was ejected from the vehicle, suffered extensive broken bones and head trauma, but is currently in the hospital and expected to live.<br />
I visited this driver a few days after the crash. He was lying in bed, with his head and arm and leg bandaged, but he was lucid and willing to talk to me about what he could remember from the crash. He told me that the vehicle lost its brakes and that he tried to stop 4 or 5 times but was unable to do so, therefore he had sped past the three other cars in the caravan and tried to take a very sharp turn at high speed, which led to him losing control, crashing through the guard rail, flipping the vehicle, and falling over the edge. He doesn't know how he survived the fall. I told him God must have a reason for him to be alive, some purpose left for him on this earth. Margarethe, who was there with me, began telling him the importance of accepting Christ as Savior and following Him. We prayed for him and left. As my mother and I drove back through those mountains on our way home, we saw the site of the accident. We backtracked from that spot for several miles, pointing out to each other every good place we saw along the way that would have been an acceptable and safe place to stop or even crash a vehicle without brakes. Places that would have possibly damaged the truck and perhaps a few limbs, but would certainly not have resulted in death. We asked ourselves why the driver didn't downshift and put on the emergency brake. And, failing all else, why he didn't crash into the caravan of cars that were in front of him, instead of speeding past them? Asking these questions only led us to frustration. And if we were experiencing frustration, I can only imagine what it was like for the passengers in the car in the moments before the accident. <br />
So, I had to stop asking these questions. I had to forgive the driver in my heart. I had to accept that, for some reason, on that particular day, God called four of His servants home. But there is still one question that I do ask myself, and think it might be an important question for all of us to ask ourselves: What kind of drivers are we? Not just actually, but figuratively as well. As we drive others along the road in our vehicles, do we take responsibility for their safety, to the extent that it's in our control? And, more figuratively speaking, who are we driving, where are we driving them, and are we taking them there with care?<br />
I delivered this message to my Haitian patients a few weeks ago, and it was a little simpler to do in Creole, because 'to drive' in Creole (kondwi) also means 'to guide'. In Creole, you 'kondwi' someone in your car, or you 'kondwi' a blind person, or you 'kondwi' people down a footpath to a certain destination. So, back to the question: who are we guiding and are we good guides? I can think of those in my life that I guide, and who trust me to guide them well: my children need me to guide them in almost every area. My patients trust me to guide them to health with the medicines and treatments I choose for them. My Sunday school students and my Tuesday morning patient crowd trust me to present the gospel to them clearly and accurately. I am beginning to realize why James says, "Let not many of you become teachers, knowing that we shall receive a stricter judgment" (James 3:1).<br />
I pray that the Lord gives us wisdom as we guide those entrusted to us, and that we do it with godly fear. I pray that the Lord speaks to the driver recuperating in the hospital. And I pray that Mary, Rita, Jim, and Matt rest in peace and that God grants their families and friends a peace that surpasses understanding.Teresahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01459386384051275908noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4165509002199597969.post-24521284649216618652012-12-13T07:17:00.000-08:002012-12-13T07:17:07.582-08:00Children helping Children<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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The kids at the LaSalle Christian Church of Christianville (kids in our children's church program) have been collecting an offering for the past year or so. I gave them an incentive that if they arrived at a total of 2000 gourdes (about $50 u.s. dollars) we could do something exciting with the money. Last month, they arrived at the goal, so I had the teachers pass out little slips of paper for the kids to write down suggestions about what they thought we should do with the offering money. Here is the break-down of their responses:<br />
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1 vote for: buy a bike that I need<br />
1 vote for: buy me a laser gun<br />
1 vote for: buy me a hose<br />
2 votes for: food (unspecified recipient)<br />
3 votes for: throw a party for us<br />
19 votes for: help the poor with it. <br />
My favorite response in this category was from a little child named Sendy who said "I would like for us to give money to the old people who are hungry, please. And give to the children without mother and father that are begging in the streets."<br />
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So, the votes for help with poor with it won out. I have a missionary friend here in Haiti, Michelle Meece, who works for an orphanage down the road and has an orphan with cancer. His name is Wilson and he has been in treatment at a hospital in Port au Prince for the past several months. He just finished his chemotherapy and Michelle was scheduled to accompany him on his last visit to the hospital, to say goodbye to the other children on the cancer ward and to receive his tickets for a trip to the Dominican for radiation. I asked Michelle how many other kids were on the ward at any one time, and she said about 12. So, I decided it would be nice to use the money that our kids gave in their offerings to buy some Christmas presents and treats for the kids in the cancer hospital. My friend Cici and I spent every last gourd on chocolate bars, juice, cheetos, balls and barbies, and then we printed out a little picture of our children's church kids with a note saying it was in the name of Christ that we sent these treats, and with many prayers for their healing. Michelle picked up the presents and delivered them with Wilson on their last visit to the cancer ward. She took the following pictures, and she said that the staff and parents of the children were very surprised and happy to see that it was a group of Haitian children who had sent the gifts. Oftentimes in Haiti people just assume that any charity must be from a 'blan'...a foreigner. So it was nice to prove that theory wrong.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhufXjzwk_poabRZpCplOc2nbSJ21zhwExioejM6TYzRSdM0qsNaEHw6J08aEEvoEVq30TW25EuR61sOiO1PwhQ1IqY1dgIQvpahRRvkQDiHJ4PDDW7t0DHU58s5u_jRJCO-hW6icJNi515/s1600/for+michelle+051.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em; text-align: center;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhufXjzwk_poabRZpCplOc2nbSJ21zhwExioejM6TYzRSdM0qsNaEHw6J08aEEvoEVq30TW25EuR61sOiO1PwhQ1IqY1dgIQvpahRRvkQDiHJ4PDDW7t0DHU58s5u_jRJCO-hW6icJNi515/s320/for+michelle+051.jpg" width="240" /></a> <a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhUGLl1OzIsJ1x-CNV82wNwRnMsL4j3LNr7lsRDUEO8oXqXB2ylZHRIfWI2JVv9tgU2VMP4P10f61gXEyQ7HoObmGucqASLKrBtAvm6C2VILLC6C_QYk6t4eAFNyXbOGmROjZaFr11orogK/s1600/for+michelle+052.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-align: center;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhUGLl1OzIsJ1x-CNV82wNwRnMsL4j3LNr7lsRDUEO8oXqXB2ylZHRIfWI2JVv9tgU2VMP4P10f61gXEyQ7HoObmGucqASLKrBtAvm6C2VILLC6C_QYk6t4eAFNyXbOGmROjZaFr11orogK/s320/for+michelle+052.jpg" width="240" /></a> <a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhLfljd-WhDua4FgUNwmEGWoOXpwBipy8fIrSFOZ-IOpLh818Nrs60TXK8S2WCH1jx2R0W5OENxFdtGY1NEM-vc19Cz596UZ3OIdhyphenhyphenmTxoIIaQVfPHTuEqbKtEI1p4ze7b5sxBdKynBqXOO/s1600/for+michelle+053.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-align: center;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhLfljd-WhDua4FgUNwmEGWoOXpwBipy8fIrSFOZ-IOpLh818Nrs60TXK8S2WCH1jx2R0W5OENxFdtGY1NEM-vc19Cz596UZ3OIdhyphenhyphenmTxoIIaQVfPHTuEqbKtEI1p4ze7b5sxBdKynBqXOO/s320/for+michelle+053.jpg" width="240" /></a><br />
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<br />Teresahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01459386384051275908noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4165509002199597969.post-25484018118916168552012-11-25T10:27:00.002-08:002012-11-25T10:27:44.356-08:00Where Thieves Break in and StealHistory seems to be repeating itself around here. It's time for the Habitat for Humanity group of 600 American short term mission workers to invade the Christianville property and work on some houses in the Leogane area. They visited last year around this time, as well. Before they come, a group of dedicated Haitians and Irish and American workers prepared the way by leveling the ground where the soccer field used to be, putting up fences and tarps (to keep the visitors in, or the local residents out?), setting up mess halls and tents, and erecting latrines and showers on the old eye clinic property. They also put up big bright lights that shine into the soccer field and into the street all night. You would think these lights would deter theft, but last year around this time massive amounts of furniture and other valuables were stolen from our friends, despite the lights and added security. And this year, just a few weeks ago, thieves broke into Ryan's eye clinic, the dental clinic, and the Christianville church. They stole medicines and equipment, and they even took brother Fanfan's accordion. What the men's choir is going to do without their famous accordion was a topic of discussion in church this morning. The pastor also gave a warning, saying he is certain it must be someone local and that the thefts will not be tolerated. Not sure if anything will come of it, but the thefts were a bummer, that's for sure. This makes the fifth time in five years that my husband's clinic has been robbed. For a man who was currently working with less equipment and space than he started with in Haiti (due to the quake), the robberies just make things all that much worse. But Ryan has been a real trooper about it. He just keeps trudging along, replacing what can be replaced, dealing without what can't be. I am proud of him and his determination to help the poor and sight-deprived here in Haiti, despite all the set backs.Teresahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01459386384051275908noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4165509002199597969.post-40548621599690402182012-10-20T11:59:00.000-07:002012-10-20T11:59:32.163-07:00Update on Lifrane and familyI just got a visit from a friend from Seguin who filled me in on some news regarding Marie Lourdes and her children. She is the woman I blogged about last week. Apparently, her visit to me was a veiled attempt to get me to take Maudeline as a restavek in my home. Of course, I would never take a child in who has a loving mom and dad, so when she saw that I was not going along with her plans, she went back to Seguin and immediately turned around and gave Maudeline and Joresse (her seven year old boy) to a friend of hers near Kapotye (about an hour down the mountain, where we used to do mobile medical clinics). The children were only gone from her for about one week, though, because on Monday she received a call from a Haitian pastor friend with the message that there was a person in Texas willing to pay for all her kids to go to school. This person was insistent that she bring back Lifrane, Maudeline, and Joresse into her home. So, she did. My friend from Seguin who was recounting this story to me was a bit frustrated. He said that the three kids came back very clean, with nice clothes and "round faces". He said they looked like they had each grown an inch. He was frustrated that they were back with their mother and father who rarely feed or bathe them. I asked him, "Were they happy to be back with their family?", and he reluctantly replied, "Yes, they were very happy.... happy to roam the fields and be dirty all day again!" So, there you have it. Marie Lourdes is reunited with all her children. No more tears for the time being. Although, getting them registered for school at such a late date may prove problematic.....Teresahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01459386384051275908noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4165509002199597969.post-33278706174016432072012-10-15T17:12:00.000-07:002012-10-15T17:12:35.222-07:00A Visit and A Moral DilemmaA couple weekends ago, Ryan and I got a visit from a familiar face.... Marie Lourdes. She was my neighbor in Seguin. This is not the first time she has suddenly appeared at our doorstep. Two years ago, Marie Lourdes and her husband surprised us on Easter and asked that we take her immediately to the hospital because she was so sick. Last year, she and her husband showed up again, this time even sicker and in need of emergency surgery. She got the surgery, so this year, when she showed up unexpectedly, she was healthy and smiling and was accompanied by her oldest daughter, Maudeline. <br />
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There are a few things that happen to us with every visit we get from a Haitian who has travelled far to see us. The first thing that happens is that we are presented with a sack full of produce. Marie Lourdes was no exception. Even though she and her husband have lost their jobs this past year and lost their crops and livestock in Tropical Storm Isaac, she borrowed money in order to bring me a sack full of potatoes. She mourned the loss of another sack full of peas and yams that she had bought, but which was subsequently stolen from her on the tap-tap ride over the mountains. She was sad because she knew I love peas. I scolded her for borrowing money to bring me a gift and reminded her that she can show up at my house empty handed, then I thanked her and started cooking the potatoes. I knew she and Maudeline probably hadn't eaten all day, maybe not in two days.<br />
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The second thing that inevitably happens with our Haitian visitors from parts remote is that, after initial "how are you's" and some general shooting of the breeze, they nestle down into our couches and fall into a deep sleep. So, while Marie Lourdes and Maudeline caught some z's, I got busy cooking up a meal with the potatoes as well as any protein I could find, and some rice, since I knew a real meal isn't complete here without it.<br />
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After bellies were full, Marie Lourdes and I talked about what was new in her life. She admitted to me that her 14 year old son, Lifrane, is living with a family - strangers to Marie Lourdes - in the town of Peredo, a little more than one hour down the mountain from her by truck. The family agreed to take him in because they needed help around the house and with their small business. In exchange, they are putting Lifrane through school this year and giving him food and a place to sleep. The family was recommended to Marie Lourdes by her cousin and her neighbors, who know the family and say they will be kind to Lifrane. There is a phrase here in Haiti for a boy or girl who lives in such a situation - Restavek. It means "live with", and it is by no means an uncommon thing. In fact, most Haitians that I know, whether from Seguin or the countryside or from Leogane or Port au Prince, either have a restavek in their home, or have given one of their children to someone else as a restavek. Christians and non-christians alike engage in this practice. Some people treat their restaveks with kindness and compassion, as they would their own children. Others treat them with decency but show them little affection at all. And still others mistreat and abuse the children under their care. I imagine it's a bit like the foster care system in the States in that regard. Only this system is not regulated at all and has no safety checks. At any rate, little Lifrane, who used to knock on my door every day after I finished working (just as I was getting ready for my afternoon nap) and ask for cookies, is now a restavek.<br />
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I asked Marie Lourdes if she visits Lifrane. She said that she visited him once or twice, but that he cried each time she left, and the family requested that she not visit anymore, because it made him too sad, and he wasn't sad if he didn't see her. I suggested to Marie Lourdes that she visit him anyway, any chance she can get, and make sure he knows that she loves him very much and has not forgotten about him or tossed him aside. <br />
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Here is where the moral dilemma comes in. Marie Lourdes didn't really come to talk to me about Lifrane. She came to talk to me about Maudeline, and three of her other children (there are eight total,) who cannot go to school this year. She said, because of the financial troubles they've had, that she and Emmanuel cannot afford to send any of their children to school this year. Maudeline, the oldest (besides Lifrane and Dyekivle - who quit school long ago), was especially sad about this. Marie Lourdes told me Maudeline cries at night, begging to go to school. I know all of Marie Lourdes' children go without food quite frequently, as well. So, what's better? To be Maudeline, at home with mom and dad and sisters and brothers, but without daily food or schooling? Or Lifrane, to be away from mom and dad and siblings, but with a full stomach and a years' worth of school? I don't know. I do know this... I can't single-handedly fix the restavek problem in Haiti. I can't give every family the monetary help they need to keep their kids fed and educated and at home with them. I can't even give Marie Lourdes all the money she needs to keep her family well fed and educated and all together. In the end, I gave her what little I could, and hoped she would make whatever decisions she deemed best with it.<br />
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Marie Lourdes and Maudeline got showers that night with running water, and slept long on a mattress that must have seemed huge to them. The next morning I drove them to Port au Prince to find a bus to Jacmel so they could begin their journey home. I haven't heard whether they made it back safely or not, or what Marie Lourdes decided to do about school for the children, but I hope,whatever happened, that she at least stopped by the house where Lifrane is living to give him a little visit on her way back up the mountain.Teresahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01459386384051275908noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4165509002199597969.post-60815105742822029692012-09-14T14:56:00.000-07:002012-09-14T14:57:28.465-07:00Numbers<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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You've probably all heard the news, but I thought I'd post this video here in case you missed it.<br />
Here are some important numbers in our lives this fall:<br />
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September 4 made 11 years for me here in Haiti. Yikes.<br />
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September 7 made 5 years here in Haiti for Ryan.<br />
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October 4 will make 4 years of marriage for Ryan and me.<br />
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November 6 Titus will turn 2. Nora is 3. And I'm 10 weeks along with Baby Price #3 which means...<br />
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April 4, 2013 may be another important day for us, since that's the due date.Teresahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01459386384051275908noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4165509002199597969.post-72442761016568208022012-07-03T09:44:00.000-07:002012-07-03T16:22:30.805-07:00Stateside and Tubes in June<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgMTBpPsNvOE9JpmzmvGiu952uqexSls5wI6EDydXescnOuqVbUk843IrZlDz_y9ltvoBC9KhUik55jlU-Z2WE-vzYPln6W1FzPJJ32WLLI-q0x8vsmBwk6RI7VsYEh2Ulq-CmEVW2SIHOt/s1600/IMG_0683-001.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="213" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgMTBpPsNvOE9JpmzmvGiu952uqexSls5wI6EDydXescnOuqVbUk843IrZlDz_y9ltvoBC9KhUik55jlU-Z2WE-vzYPln6W1FzPJJ32WLLI-q0x8vsmBwk6RI7VsYEh2Ulq-CmEVW2SIHOt/s320/IMG_0683-001.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
<span style="background-color: white;"><br /></span><br />
<span style="background-color: white;">I receive many comments and questions from people regarding Haiti. Most of them go like this: "How can we pray for you?" and "If we come to Haiti, what do you need us to bring for you?" So, I've made a few little additions to my blog. On the left, you'll find a list of prayer requests (updated as often as I update this blog...hopefully monthly). Also, you'll find a list of things that we could always use around here, just in case you're planning a visit here soon.</span><br />
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We spent the month of June in the U.S., visiting family, going to weddings, and enjoying some summertime fun. The picture above is from the Madison Zoo, when the kids experienced popsicles on sticks for the first time. Nora was a fan, but Titus thought they were way too cold. We had a good time in Illinois, Wisconsin, Minnesota, Alabama, Texas, and Georgia. The kids are glad to be back home, but they talk about visiting their grandparents again quite often. Well, Nora does. Titus has a limited vocabulary. He says, "no, yes, thank you, cheese, mama, ball, book, and bye-bye".<br />
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During this past year, Titus has been battling many ear infections. We tried all the different antibiotics recommended, as well as shots and antihistamines, but nothing seemed to be helping his poor ears. So, while we were in Alabama, we took him to the doctor for advice. He sent us to an ENT. We were able to see the ENT on a Thursday, just a few days after our pediatrician referred us. We waited for an hour. The ENT did testing and recommended tubes for his ears. She was able to get us a surgery appointment for Friday, the very next day. He went into a nice, clean, friendly surgery center. The nurses gave him a teddy bear, the pastor came to pray for him, and the drugs helped him relax. They took him to surgery, and 15 minutes later he had tubes and was recovering. By the next day, he was feeling much better. Our insurance is helping us cover some of the costs. When I reflect on this experience, I can't help but compare it to the experience of my patients in Haiti. I have several little girls and boys who come to me daily for help with ear infections. Normally, they and their mom will wait at least 5 hours to see me. Most of the time, the antibiotics I give them will solve the problem, but sometimes, they are like Titus, and no amount of medicine will help. In those cases, they will wait another 5 hours to see me again, and get another antibiotic and a shot. If this doesn't work, the process is repeated, with different antibiotics, until the ear either gets better, or perforates on its own. This is painful and could cause scarring. The other option is to send them to a specialist in Port au Prince. This is often a last-ditch effort for us, since it involves the mom and child going to an unfamiliar place on public transport, spending a lot of money that they don't have, going through many tests they don't have the money for and don't really need, and then, hopefully going through a surgery (which could involve outdated anesthesia and risks of infection). The difference between their experience and mine is day and night. Maybe that's why a huge wave of gratefulness mixed with guilt hit me as I walked out of the surgery center with Titus. Grateful for what God has given us, and sad that not everyone has access to the same care, and guilty that I can't do more to narrow the gap.Teresahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01459386384051275908noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4165509002199597969.post-58643836610003079842012-05-20T08:19:00.001-07:002012-05-20T08:19:15.057-07:00Be the ParadeFriday, the 18th of May, was Flag Day here in Haiti. Usually it's a day when kids dress up in uniform with fake swords and guns and march in formation and sing songs in the streets. We were told that we shouldn't go out much this year, because the ex-military had warned that they would "show their strength" on Friday. From what I hear, their 'strength' was broken up by some UN rubber bullets and tear gas in Port. We didn't see any of that kind of thing in our neck of the woods.<br />
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I did hear a parade, though, and thought the kids would love to see it. Eleanor wasn't in the mood to go outside, so I took Titus and we went down the road to where the kids were lined up, marching with their fake weapons. A tiny band was playing, and a group of about 20 or 30 people were standing on the side of the road, watching. Titus and I walked up to join the crowd. After 10 years in Haiti, I should have known that I can't "join a crowd", especially with a white baby in my arms. But I had a mental lapse and tried it. After being there for a few seconds, the majority of the crowd and some of the members of the parade had turned around to look at Titus and me. All of a sudden, we were the parade. Ryan told me later that I should have started marching and just gone with the flow. But I didn't.<br />
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I stood there, holding Titus tight as people touched us and asked if I would give him to them. That's a pretty common thing we hear here in Haiti. "Give me your baby!", someone will shout from across the road. I'm not sure what response they are looking for. "Here you go!", or "You bet, take him!". I'm not sure. On a bad day, I ignore them or say "No" grumpily. On a good day, I remember that it's a bit of an African (and Haitian) tradition to say something off the wall to someone, just to see what funny quip they will come back with. So, on good days, I usually respond, "I can't, he's my only boy." That gets them laughing. Not sure why, but they usually stop asking me to give them the baby, and they start talking among themselves, repeating me and laughing their heads off. Humor in other cultures is a weird thing. Sometimes I'm funny to Haitians because I try, but most of the time I"m funny for reasons unknown to me!<br />
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At any rate, that was our Flag Day. We walked along with the parade, trying to 'blend in' and not cause so much of a distraction that the marching kids would trip or lose their step. I think the people in the parade were happy when we went back home... they got their audience back.<br />
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<br />Teresahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01459386384051275908noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4165509002199597969.post-35208876860962600552012-04-10T09:05:00.005-07:002012-04-10T10:18:19.720-07:00Friends at Easter<div style="font-family: Georgia, serif; text-align: center; "><span><u><br /></u></span></div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhQmEv24ZQFHa6efeBR5B14Ftx-VLJ1REuL-m8GcbCqOsvregO-3KDdtJ1gdezwyAumvGcKuSHCq5zCu57r1LjSIvwJgDu4Qsk2u7qGH8V-1y5zaL7exHT0QmhDZn8NIqPz-4dn0CSQu-mq/s1600/IMG_0329.jpg" style="font-family: Georgia, serif; font-size: 100%; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; line-height: normal; "><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 134px; height: 200px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhQmEv24ZQFHa6efeBR5B14Ftx-VLJ1REuL-m8GcbCqOsvregO-3KDdtJ1gdezwyAumvGcKuSHCq5zCu57r1LjSIvwJgDu4Qsk2u7qGH8V-1y5zaL7exHT0QmhDZn8NIqPz-4dn0CSQu-mq/s200/IMG_0329.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5729804077393631922" /></a><span><span style="font-size: 100%; " >Happy Easter! We had a good Easter weekend here in Gressier. My friend from Seguin, Margarethe Jean Phillippe, her three children (Davidson, Joseph, and Marie Phara), and her sister Bethany all came to visit us on Good Friday. Margarethe, as always, brought way too much food! She has so many mouths that depend on her to be fed, and yet she always brings us a ton of food when she comes. She made us some fish, which is a traditional Easter meal here in Haiti. I have to admit, I wasn't excited about it at first, since the smell of the raw fish and fish juice was overwhelming. But after everything was said and done and FRIED, it was awesome. We all ate our fill and had plenty to spare. Titus really liked the fish and veggies, too. Nora, of course, didn't try any of it. She had mac 'n cheese.</span></span><div style="font-size: 100%; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; line-height: normal; "><span ><br /></span></div><div style="font-size: 100%; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; line-height: normal; "><span >Margarethe and I were able to catch up on all that has been happening since I left the mountain. It was good to have her here and spend time together again. My children were a little shy around her kids, but they all ended up playing together (or near each other) in the end. On Saturday, I hid a bunch of eggs and taught the kids about a silly Easter tradition that we Americans do. They had fun running around, finding eggs.</span></div><div style="font-size: 100%; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; line-height: normal; "><span ><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgIYD8C7J98XUrCxBCJCQLfPVJvmSJLGVFZ8LvuG-uQrKdzAP9u7jpvzbhorOgKv7Lg_7in5RxENDgm-Q0Pq0BnEzTrVfPR8vQfJCxDrW-0hSS1T0HlYZAeiROQVLs9B8mq5zeZs10dRwFg/s1600/IMG_0395.jpg"><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgIYD8C7J98XUrCxBCJCQLfPVJvmSJLGVFZ8LvuG-uQrKdzAP9u7jpvzbhorOgKv7Lg_7in5RxENDgm-Q0Pq0BnEzTrVfPR8vQfJCxDrW-0hSS1T0HlYZAeiROQVLs9B8mq5zeZs10dRwFg/s200/IMG_0395.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5729805551444845138" style="display: block; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: auto; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: auto; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 200px; height: 134px; " /></a>Margarethe told me a few stories of her life, past and present. She told me about how she has eight brothers and sisters, but there used to be nine. She lost her baby brother when he was three years old because of diarrhea. One day he was there, the next he was in the hospital, and the next day he was gone, she said. She also told me about how Ecclesiaste, her husband, is from a family of twelve siblings, but only six of them are still alive. You'd think that these would be things I would know about Margarethe and her husband, since we've been friends for ten years. But I guess, in Haiti, it doesn't come up much. You wouldn't know that she and her husband come from such tragic backgrounds. Ecclesiaste has a laugh that fills up a room (anyone who knows him knows this is an understatement!) Nothing in his demeanor or speech would clue you in to the fact that he's lost half his siblings. I've found that many Haitians are like Margarethe and Ecclesiaste. Tragedy and hardship in the past stays in the past, and doesn't have much bearing on the present. I'm not sure how they do it, but I wish I could emulate it.</span></div><div style="font-size: 100%; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; line-height: normal; "><span ><br /></span></div><div style="font-size: 100%; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; line-height: normal; "><span >Margarethe also told me about how life is for her family presently. She and Ecclesiaste live in Seguin and both have employment. Two of her brothers work, and her father is a farmer and </span></div><div style="font-size: 100%; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; line-height: normal; "><span >raises animals. The rest of her family lives in Jacmel and is either unemployed or in school. Her mother, her four sisters, her three children, their four cousins, and one orphan child all live in a two room house together. They all sleep in the same room. Margarethe didn't seem to think this was unusual. She talked about how the children don't fall to sleep before 10 at night. She thought they were night owls. But when they were at my house, they fell sound asleep by 8pm. The yard where they could play had something to do with that, but I also think it was a soft mattress and a room that wasn't full of ten other snoring, kicking, sweating bodies. I gave them a double mattress and two single mattresses for the five of them to sleep, but all three kids piled onto one of the mattresses and fell fast asleep. Force of habit, I guess!</span></div><div style="font-size: 100%; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; line-height: normal; "><span ><br /></span></div><div style="font-size: 100%; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; line-height: normal; "><span ><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh3-YEmITvBcW9s2ok5jklDb9y2ng79OaSb1-rGaacWLuYbQaR9VkS1_Ofa0fZke6H26sf4xisDQnGPKeiKY28XQtLSiJtM3idGJYNAzyFzybbU2fJMzgyvEkHT4GJZeKwD5MgxXbYQppmh/s1600/IMG_0332.jpg" style="font-size: medium; "><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh3-YEmITvBcW9s2ok5jklDb9y2ng79OaSb1-rGaacWLuYbQaR9VkS1_Ofa0fZke6H26sf4xisDQnGPKeiKY28XQtLSiJtM3idGJYNAzyFzybbU2fJMzgyvEkHT4GJZeKwD5MgxXbYQppmh/s200/IMG_0332.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5729811415764289426" style="display: block; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: auto; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: auto; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 200px; height: 134px; " /></a>It was a blessing to share Easter weekend with Margarethe. I always come away from our encounters feeling that I need to be more grateful, more joyful, and more content with what God has given me. I love you, Marga! Come and spend the weekend anytime.</span></div>Teresahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01459386384051275908noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4165509002199597969.post-17182691590006023202012-03-27T08:50:00.002-07:002012-03-27T09:27:06.044-07:00Three ChurchesWe've had a few nice visits, lately. Ryan's home church from Anniston, Alabama visited us in February for a week. They helped out around Christianville and the clinics and also helped build a house for a woman who used to work for us. She lost her daughter (Daphne) and her home in the earthquake, so the team helped to build a new one for her. We were especially glad to see Ryan's parents again, and to see Pastor Mac visit Haiti for the first time. During their stay, Ryan preached at our church here in Haiti. I interpreted for him, which turned out to be a little bit controversial. I didn't know that women not speaking in church also included women not interpreting in church, according to some church members. The leaders of the church were glad that Ryan preached, though, and were thankful for the interpretation. After Ryan preached about following Christ and loving Him, instead of following family traditions, FanFan came up to give an altar call. He is a member of the church as well as an accordion player and a dental hygienist at Christianville's dental clinic. A young woman responded to his altar call and told the church that she had been going to church all her life as a family tradition, but she had never accepted Christ to be her own Savior, and she wanted to do that. It was a great Sunday at church.<div><br /></div><div>In March, my home church from Ft. Lauderdale came to visit us. They helped out around Christianville and the clinics. They built several chicken coops and put up gates at the eye clinic building site. They brought us lots of goodies, just like Ryan's church had done. It is great to get visits from our home church and be encouraged by our church families. I was especially glad that Kent and Dennis got to return on a trip to Christianville. They came to help out when I first moved to Haiti and lived in Seguin, and they hadn't been back since, so I was happy to show them the new place where I'm serving.</div><div><br /></div><div> While the Community Christian church group was here, we also attended a service at my church here in Haiti. This time, Ryan didn't preach. Our head pastor didn't preach, either. It was a deacon without any seminary experience who preached. His sermon was directed towards women, since it was the international day of remembering women, or something like that. He chose two Scriptures to build his sermon around. The Scriptures he chose were very thought provoking. One was the story of the mother of James and John in Matthew 20:20-23. The other was the story of Hannah, from 1 Samuel chapters 1 and 2. He began to compare these two mothers, saying that the mother of James and John was asking for her sons to be powerful, and the mother of Samuel didn't care if he was a servant, but just wanted him to be dedicated to the Lord. Then, he veered off onto a tangent about not letting your children play with scissors, or they might poke their eye out, grow up to resent you, and eventually kill you for it. Before the tangent, I thought he was on to something good, but he never got back to it.</div><div><br /></div><div>Let's pretend he did get back to it. Let's keep comparing those two women. The mother of James and John wanted them to be with Jesus because she saw that He had power and could lead them to positions of greatness. Jesus warned her that His type of greatness was going to involve much sacrifice and suffering. Hannah, on the other hand, prayed that God would give her a child. She vowed to dedicate that child to His service, no matter what the cost to her son or to herself. As a mother, I find it easy to pray for my child's safety, for his health, for her to prosper and be successful in life. But I also pray with all my heart for my children to be saved, to know Christ, and to serve Him with all their heart and life. Like John and James' mother, I like to ask Jesus to bless them. But I also need to be like Hannah, and pray that -no matter what the cost- they will serve the Lord. Even if it means they grow up to serve Him in a country far away, or choose ministry over financial security, or stay single in their service of Him and never give me grandkids, or serve Him in a dangerous place. Even if they suffer for Him. That is a much harder prayer to pray. I know my mother was a Hannah in her prayers for me, and I'm thankful. I ask for God's grace to make me a Hannah mother in my prayers for my children, as well.</div>Teresahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01459386384051275908noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4165509002199597969.post-87123976339222574682012-02-20T08:07:00.000-08:002012-02-20T08:32:31.382-08:00Sunday SchoolMaybe 2012 will be the year that I make 12 posts on my blog. Doubt it. But I'll try.<br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgMgelD0h9SGbWkO1ARlkdbTfQeSy7CqoBRsdK2NMQ-bmW3nkm7K3rfgQmvxQb_OUwGh23osXM4TnrC003OwxFn0Nzk0SFsTEZ6njtf4D-_TUblHFtA4JfukItrZkEKq8Akz1ncjKq_4tRv/s1600/IMG_9409.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 200px; height: 134px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgMgelD0h9SGbWkO1ARlkdbTfQeSy7CqoBRsdK2NMQ-bmW3nkm7K3rfgQmvxQb_OUwGh23osXM4TnrC003OwxFn0Nzk0SFsTEZ6njtf4D-_TUblHFtA4JfukItrZkEKq8Akz1ncjKq_4tRv/s200/IMG_9409.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5711255672448018402" /></a><br />Ryan and I attend Lasalle Christian Church of Christianville (we're Christians, can you tell?). It is right down the road from us. We have been quiet observers in the past, but recently we have stepped up our involvement a little bit. I noticed a lot of little heads in the pews, nodding off, making noise, bugging the people in front of them, and generally not having a good time in the "grown up" service. So, I decided to start a Sunday school program at the church. Our church had one in previous years, but it had lacked one for at least four years, and the congregation was ready to start one up again. I only go to church every other week as it is, because our kids are so little and there is no nursery program, so Ryan and I take turns attending every other Sunday. So, I didn't want to be the main teacher of the Sunday school program, because then I would miss church service completely, and so would Ryan (because he'd be home with our kids). So, I asked Pastor Fanel if he could find me some volunteers. I was hoping for at least four. He found me eight. I was delighted that so many wanted to help. When we had our first meeting, I realized that they didn't even want me to be a teacher at all. They were just expecting me to be the coordinator. That was great to hear, too. They divided themselves into four teams of two, and we decided each team would only have to teach Sunday school once a month, so they wouldn't have to miss too much church. I provide the curriculum, lesson plans, memory verse, activity ideas and materials, and felt board. Every Friday, I meet together with the team that will be teaching that Sunday, and give them the materials and lesson plans. <br /><br /><div> We started this program back in the fall of 2011, and it's been going well ever since. We have about 50 kids, ages 3 to 14, in the class right now. The teachers took the initiative to put on a Christmas program with the kids, and did a great job on their own (since I was in the States). The teachers also come up with good ideas for me to incorporate in the lessons. One of the teams recruited a pianist to come play for the children during the weeks that they teach. One teacher gave me a song sheet to print out for the kids, so they could have their own song booklets. For the most part, the program is going well. My goal is to give up a little more control over the program as time goes on, so that eventually it will just run without me.<br /><br /></div><div> When we studied Abraham and God's promise to him to give him a son in his old age, our memory verse was "With God, nothing is impossible." The activity I chose to reinforce this lesson was for the kids to write out something that they felt was impossible in their lives. Then at the end of the lesson, we prayed that God would work in our lives and listen to these prayers about these impossible things. I told the kids that God would answer them, but not necessarily with a "yes". It might be a "no" or "not yet". The kids had some interesting things that they thought were impossible. Most of the kids drew pictures of planes, or cars, or bikes. They figured they'd never get to own one of those. But some of the kids went a little deeper. One 10 year old girl wrote a long essay listing all the things in her life she felt were impossible. The list included "Mom and Dad getting back together", "Not having to live my with grandparents", and "My grandfather to come to the Lord." I hope she holds on to the hope that nothing is impossible with the Lord, and that God answers some of her prayers with a "yes".</div>Teresahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01459386384051275908noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4165509002199597969.post-39312784702303501432011-09-04T11:05:00.000-07:002011-09-04T12:18:20.244-07:0010 Years In Haiti<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiCTb5HODqhJIqQ72uH0_g-YHlW51D6_2RJlksJVa5_iwhaA_qWI3mgxorG7xxoawuoQ4uaukihNlOLSpbbyCfhG_AHydnsWrEOuitX0cgWNmIDAocjW6eqefPwnkC32g-cCgUVnvWdqFj4/s1600/IMG.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 200px; height: 136px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiCTb5HODqhJIqQ72uH0_g-YHlW51D6_2RJlksJVa5_iwhaA_qWI3mgxorG7xxoawuoQ4uaukihNlOLSpbbyCfhG_AHydnsWrEOuitX0cgWNmIDAocjW6eqefPwnkC32g-cCgUVnvWdqFj4/s200/IMG.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5648584327791565954" /></a>
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<br />Here is a photo of me with my pastor's family in September of 2001, on my last Sunday at Community Christian Church before I moved to Haiti. I moved here on September 4, 2001, and had no idea that I would still be here 10 years later. Here is a list of some of the highlights and low points of the past decade. I'll leave it up to the reader to determine which are which:
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<br />-waving goodbye to my nephew Lukey at the airport and trying to control my sobs on the plane
<br />-watching the 911 attacks on cable t.v. in the CSI guesthouse living room
<br />-wondering why it hurt to move my eyes, my head, my entire body...then finding out it was dengue fever and I wasn't going to get better for a couple of weeks
<br />-laying on my cot the first night in Seguin, in my damp sleeping bag, thinking "what have I gotten myself into?"
<br />-laying blocks for the walls of my apartment on Christmas day
<br />-meeting Margarethe for the first time and thinking she was so skinny I better do some bloodwork on her before we hired her
<br />-clearing out the rat eaten meds and starting a new pharmacy room
<br />-falling down the stairs of death...repeatedly
<br />-learning to master a stick shift in stop and go traffic on steep roads (I apologize to all the walls and vehicles I gently rolled back on)
<br />-rushing Jean Dony to the hospital to get him treatment for his burned body, while trying to dodge people dressed like bulls and other beasts (it was Mardi Gras)
<br />-delivering my first infant (Idamanthe is a beautiful nine year old now)
<br />-delivering two babies in two different houses at the same time (that involved a lot of running)
<br />-trying to set up the internet (that sentence doesn't convey how much time, effort, and agony went into that process)
<br />-delivering a baby in the back of the pickup, while trying to keep Margarethe from having her baby in the front of the pickup
<br />-living with Chelsea and Jean Dony in a haitian home for two weeks (cooking on a charcoal stove is hard)
<br />-telling Lifrane to stop knocking on my door for cookies (this happened nearly every day for six and a half years)
<br />-teaching my first Sunday school lesson in Creole
<br />-leading my first group of students in a baptism class, and then watching them get baptized
<br />-wrapping 500 presents for school kids on Christmas eve, while listening to Christmas music in Spanish on the only radio signal Seguin received
<br />-watching movies at night to hear people talk to me in English
<br />-asking for a blanket when it was 90 degrees out (malaria makes you do funny things)
<br />-working with Danny and Leann
<br />-saying goodbye to Danny and Leann
<br />-delivering Jabez
<br />-saying goodbye to Jabez
<br />-working with all my wonderful interns
<br />-watching all my wonderful interns go back home
<br />-hiking to Margarethe's mother's house (it's not too far, they said. they lied.)
<br />-watching a witch doctor tell a pregnant lady to put a pot on her head and eat an egg, shell and all
<br />-driving Kenscoff road and getting knocked off course by a boy with a herd of sheep
<br />-walking Kenscoff road and getting schooled by a woman twice my age
<br />-driving a hemorrhaging patient in my brand new truck to four different hospitals before finding her help
<br />-delivering two non-breathing, nearly pulseless twins
<br />-visiting with those twins and their mother a year later, and watching them crawl and smile and play
<br />-praying with Margarethe and her family when the loneliness started taking its toll on me
<br />-waking up each Tuesday thinking "ugh. it's dental day"
<br />-staring at a broken generator. again, and again, and again.
<br />-crying out "Jezi, sove nou!!" as I floated down a river in my truck with a haitian man named Chrisnet and a cat named Blackbeard
<br />-riding on the top of a bus, the back of a dump truck, the bench of a taptap, the spare tire of a mack truck, the book rack of a motorcycle, and the bony back of an emaciated horse (to name a few)
<br />-making the decision to leave Seguin, praying for guidance, and receiving an email from Jim and Sandy asking me to come to Christianville
<br />-meeting an American missionary optometrist and thinking "he's cute, but quiet"
<br />-saying goodbye to all my friends in Seguin
<br />-preaching devotions at the Christianville clinic and seeing patients respond to the gospel
<br />-getting engaged under a waterfall in Jacmel
<br />-flying back to Christianville in a helicopter after our honeymoon
<br />-meeting my baby girl for the first time and thinking "I didn't know I could love something this much"
<br />-surviving the earthquake on January 12, 2010 and still attempting to survive all its aftermath
<br />-sleeping under an avocado tree
<br />-having church outside
<br />-learning how to live indoors again without panicking
<br />-giving birth to my baby boy and thinking "he's absolutely perfect"
<br />-starting up a Sunday school program at church and busting out the ol' felt board again
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<br />And that pretty much brings us up to today. Some people have told me that I should write a book about my time here in Haiti. But I tell them, "I don't know the end yet." I felt God called me to Haiti 10 years ago, and I came with the intention to stay until He called me somewhere else. He hasn't called me anywhere else yet, so I'll keep serving Him here, one day (or decade) at a time.
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<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjGl35VeK6ziBy-8E-hC5wPWu9tAyqZya4zrL9kCVhVrfCjwSb3bP8POdD_FpNiS1eGylWtLlEEbcIQRRQLserOibogaalQLei1JWUIA8L0gMEQAKMtZFk6aNztrS4BPWX3pWogmYHu6_IX/s1600/IMG_0622.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 200px; height: 150px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjGl35VeK6ziBy-8E-hC5wPWu9tAyqZya4zrL9kCVhVrfCjwSb3bP8POdD_FpNiS1eGylWtLlEEbcIQRRQLserOibogaalQLei1JWUIA8L0gMEQAKMtZFk6aNztrS4BPWX3pWogmYHu6_IX/s200/IMG_0622.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5648584511960201794" /></a>Teresahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01459386384051275908noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4165509002199597969.post-32524500484907084112011-07-27T13:36:00.000-07:002011-07-27T14:35:14.178-07:00BOONS!<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhUWwt23HzQZHc8TuA1BPfYDjHpZDGtIrbbEdFeYejKyaKiicXw0oIX8UbC9B5X4MAFrAze1iBW3Cu4H5LpQlauG0XU_rysmBKrSDPcuRQ_zQw6d1MFPY6XSY8onnx-QgAXCDPYlyqN4Ohl/s1600/IMG_9091.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 200px; height: 134px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhUWwt23HzQZHc8TuA1BPfYDjHpZDGtIrbbEdFeYejKyaKiicXw0oIX8UbC9B5X4MAFrAze1iBW3Cu4H5LpQlauG0XU_rysmBKrSDPcuRQ_zQw6d1MFPY6XSY8onnx-QgAXCDPYlyqN4Ohl/s200/IMG_9091.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5634133953643686194" /></a><br /><br />The youth from my church family at Community Christian Church in Tamarac, Florida came to visit Christianville this month. They were a great team. They helped with construction on the new medical clinic, they did various odd jobs for the other ministries here, they worshipped with other teams that were here, and they brought the other missionaries and me some goodies and some encouragement. I am always glad when teams from my home church come to visit, and it was really nice to get to know these youth. Some of them were just wee little kids that I saw in children's church or at VBS when I left for Haiti 10 years ago, so it was great to chat with them and see where God is leading them now.<br /><br />During the week that the youth were here, another team decided to blow up water balloons to use for their VBS ministry project. The balloons sat in a container and taunted Nora all week. We would walk past them and her eyes would get big and she would shout "BOONS!", but I wouldn't let her play with them. However, the team that planned on using the balloons must not have had time to incorporate them into their VBS and ended up leaving without using them. So there they sat, tempting us. On one of the last days that the Community youth were here, Rita, our interim guesthouse coordinator, suggested a use for the balloons that everyone got excited about. Rita's plan was to have the youth line up on the patio on Monday morning, during Christianville's bi-monthly distribution of food for the elderly. Then, as each elderly person came to receive their food, they would be instructed to throw a water balloon at the team before leaving. I was skeptical about the plan. I really didn't think those old folks would be up for it. I thought they might be too shy. Our pastor of outreach, Mr. Laguerre, was surprised at the plan, too. But he duly translated Rita's wishes to the elderly folks. The people that you would think would have the objections --the youth-- thought it was a great idea and lined up like great sports for the abuse.<br /> <br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjycIppWq0aQq58r-hxwx4j0WKsYN2LV7-6NKXWjRojCtEWGXSW8YvCvPzm6inH0yGNxs6YdL39FlbpV8KapvgSSXecnaCtiXf7E2yzVvhJ0EH0CvjntJ9Uf9rZziWb7UB3pZwY_yc7I7jV/s1600/IMG_9094.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 200px; height: 134px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjycIppWq0aQq58r-hxwx4j0WKsYN2LV7-6NKXWjRojCtEWGXSW8YvCvPzm6inH0yGNxs6YdL39FlbpV8KapvgSSXecnaCtiXf7E2yzVvhJ0EH0CvjntJ9Uf9rZziWb7UB3pZwY_yc7I7jV/s200/IMG_9094.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5634141495349904642" /></a><br /><br />At first, the elderly people were hesitant to throw the balloons. But after the first few threw the balloons and saw the good reactions of the teenagers, the whole crowd got excited and the rest of the recipients of the food had no qualms about lobbing, tossing, throwing or out-right fast pitching the balloons at the young people. Nora stood by the container of balloons shouting "Boons!" and smiling.<br /><br />As I was watching the whole affair, looking at the happy faces of the old folks and the haitians gathered around, I began to reflect on a book I just read, called "When Helping Hurts". The book talks about different methods of helping poor people that can actually hurt everyone involved, because those methods encourage a paternalistic attitude in the giver and a feeling of powerlessness in the recipient. The book suggests several ways to avoid this pitfall, one of which is to never do anything for someone that they can do on their own. Well, the elderly people in Christianville's feeding program have troubles finding the resources to feed themselves adequately, and the government lacks programs for these people, so I believe the elderly feeding program is a good and necessary one. It does, however, make people feel a bit powerless, when they have to rely on a mission or an agency for handouts. So, while it wasn't a suggested method in "When Helping Hurts", I think the 'balloon exercise' was a great way to put just a tiny bit of power back into the hands of those elderly men and women. For just a few moments, while they were getting their free food, the recipients were able to give something back: a little water, a little fun, and a lot of smiles.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjzF7zOZcslH53ykglHnFccpzD50JYJ03ZgtWiD-vPPag191cLxVUeZexQ4qZwokoP0VWNGlqXKkxiuIe_Z8paVBxT_OyEMTOQdL1v6FOZo-2NG6PX-p8EhzRjT0zBYfJy6mvdiAkEllBFk/s1600/IMG_9098.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 200px; height: 134px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjzF7zOZcslH53ykglHnFccpzD50JYJ03ZgtWiD-vPPag191cLxVUeZexQ4qZwokoP0VWNGlqXKkxiuIe_Z8paVBxT_OyEMTOQdL1v6FOZo-2NG6PX-p8EhzRjT0zBYfJy6mvdiAkEllBFk/s200/IMG_9098.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5634148703868735282" /></a>Teresahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01459386384051275908noreply@blogger.com0