Sunday, December 18, 2011
Yesterday, a young girl was brought here so we could take her to the maternity hospital in Croix-des-Bouquet. She was in the maternity clinic across the road from us for Friday night, and then they wrote her and reference letter and told her to go a bigger hospital. Instead of going to a bigger hospital, her family took her home. Saturday afternoon, a friend heard her suffering and came to do something about it. Before we could get her in a vehicle to take her to the hospital, she had the baby on the ground. We quickly got her back to the maternity clinic across the road. The mother is fine, but the baby was too premature to have a chance. It is amazing how delicately developed such a small baby is. It seems like the girl's boyfriend gave her some type of medicine to cause the abortion. He mixed it in some food and she ate it unknowingly.
Baby dedications...... a very important part of this country. I love them too - it's special to see parents who want to dedicate their dear babies to God!! This one was especially special because the parents are very good friends of ours.... and the baby girl is named Julissa. Apparently after me!Here the pastor is holding baby Julissa and praying a special dedication prayer..
The happy parents signing a paper of dedication.
The happy parents signing a paper of dedication.
Friday, December 16, 2011
I heard a weak cry coming from the little girl. "How old is she?" I asked the mother. I needed to know so I could give her the right amount of medicine. "2 years old," the mother replied. "She's two?" I asked incredulously. "Yes," she responded, ducking her head. Her speech and clothes betrayed her mountain heritage. The tiny girl wore a little raggedy white dress and a dusty kerchief tied around her head. Then I saw her scrawny legs poking out beneath a little blanket, and a tiny face turned to look at me. Large frightened eyes stared at me out of the bony baby face. Somebody close by rudely asked the mother why she never feeds her baby. Clutching her baby tightly, she answered softly, "She's always been small. Ever since she was born she hasn't wanted to eat. She just had cholera, and now she has malaria. She doesn't want to eat or drink. She just cries all the time." It was clear to me that she loved her baby. I finished getting the baby's meds. The mother told me she was from Pays Pourri but she's living in Bocca de Monn, a tiny village close to the clinic.
Wednesday on the way home from the kids class in the Projects, Rebecca and I stopped in to see the tiny girl. She was sitting in her mommy's lap crying softly and painfully. The medicine was in its little bag beside. I was happy to see the mother was giving her juice. When I asked what kind it was she said it was carrot juice that she had made. I referred them to Love a Child. They have a malnourishment program and a very good pediatrician. She said she would try to go, and thanked me for coming.
Today after clinic I walked down to the village to see her. Along the way, somebody told me that the baby died yesterday. I was shocked. I knew she was very sick, but I see a lot of sick people all the time. I walked slowly up the trail to see the mother. She was sitting on a small piece of cardboard by the wall. Her eyes filled with tears when we talked about the little girl. My heart just ached for her. I knew they were very poor so they probably just buried the little girl close by somewhere. I thought of how vastly far apart our lives are. I would go home, eat supper, visit, and then sleep in a soft bed. Somebody was cooking over a fire close by so hopefully they would all be able to eat something tonight. The tiny mud and stick hut spoke of few comforts and it was obvious they didn't have much in the way of earthly possessions. Yet, when we talked about heaven her tear-filled eyes lightened up and a smile crossed her dark, leathery face. We prayed together and when our eyes met after the prayer, our hearts did, too. The differences weren't so vast our hearts were crying together and most importantly we both love and serve God. We both know we can see the little girl again. She was such a little scrap of humanity and yet she changed my life. I thought of how in Canada her life might have been saved. I thought of all the ways I could have helped her. I thought of how even in her small window of life, she knew of a mother's love and care. I thought of how she is happy and healthy,but best of all, she is with Jesus, somewhere beyond the blue. And I was comforted. ~Sheila
Friday, December 9, 2011
This is Amy Bryan, she is my instructor and office coach.
Oh, I almost for got to mention, this is our storage depot,
donations are stored here until they are shipped (lo`t bo` dlo) across the water.
Friday, December 2, 2011
I had a normal day in the office at IFM.
I answered the phone, bought tickets to send people to Haiti, replied to emails and made the daily entrees in the ledgers.
After I was finished with my regular office jobs I started sorting donations that have been accumulating on a large heap.
I know I am a missionary and I should be glad for the items people want to share with the less fortunate in this world, but it seems to me there is a line where common sense would say, if it is not good enough for me it is not good enough to ship to Haiti.
What am I to do with somebody's junk mail, dried grass clippings, dirty pop cans, filthy pill bottles that have hair sticking to them and coupons that expired a year and a-half ago?
With the help of God I was able to sing,
Every blessing you pour out, I will turn back to praise,
When the darkness closes in Lord still I will say.
Blessed be the name of the Lord,
Blessed be your glorious name.
And I added,
When donations pile up Lord,
Still I will say, blessed be your glorious name.