This little boy is John Daniel Labat.
This little boy is John Daniel Labat.
What is your story?
There is a purpose, what is it?
Where is your hope?
I’m sure my story of Haiti is much different than it is to the Haitians. To them it is life. To me it is a sad story. We are staying at His Home for Children. This orphanage has about 40 beautiful children here that rip at my heart. I am a child-lover, but I have never felt so much love and compassion for a child. Here is my journal entry from earlier today.
Day #4 in Haiti. All is going good. I am sitting here in line for the outside shower Levi and I built. All the children tear at my heart. I wonder if they do that somewhat on purpose- just to get a family, to finally be the chosen one. I want to wrap them in my arms forever- nearly all of them. They have their cute and sassy personalities. I’ve always read in the Bible and such of orphans. They were all the same in my mind; quiet, fearful, cute in their own way. But they are just like me. They talk and laugh and run and sass. They want love and talk about their moms’. They love gift and cling to they’re new Shriek stuffed animals and laugh as I recite donkey quotes, even the 14 year olds. They lay their sweet colored hands on my notebook pages just so I can notice them and remember they’re there. They fight, they love, they give fabulous hugs, they even steal candy from my bag and justify if by saying it was from another “blah” (white person in Koreal). I love them. They- each one- have a tender heart, beautiful face, and all of them have hurts and stories. They amaze me. They are incredibly strong. I strongly respect them. They innocently love Jesus and trust Him fully, not only because He is all they have, not only because they have seem Him is such large ways- simply because they realize He is worthy of all honor and praise for He is truly God. (this is revealed through their singing). This, Lord, is why I want to have faith as a child (which I never understood as well as I do now). The toddlers all reach up to you as soon as you walk in their bunk room and cry for “ma-ma” or “pa-pa”. It makes me hurt.
This is much of what I’m feeling. I’ve made so many friends that I am loving so much. Here are some photos of what we have been doing and how Haiti is.
Barbara andVideline's mom stopped by Friday and we gave her a gift the girls picked out for her.
Waling the streets. They are full of beautiful people.
They men still working hard a few days later.
This is Tasha- She is entirely too cute!
We attempted to do laundry. The Haitians laughed at us because we couldn't do it very well.
Barbara and Videline got a give for their friend Jasmine. It was her 9th birthday.
Sunday was amazing. It started out as sunday school in the driveway, with children in their best attire. They sing with loud proclaiming voices. We them cram in the back of a box truck with cage-like doors and ride off to the English-speaking church. They have about 300 attendies.
They have a talented worship group and everyone "pipes" in. They have PIPES and they USE them.
This is Ester(14), Tasha (baby), Rachelle (14), and Marline(employeed nanny).
Sunday we took a walk through the streets Sunday afternoon, visited CAM and Clint and Brenda came down to visit. They're planning on going back to the mountains Wednesday.
The children follow you all through the streets.
This is a tent city out of the city, people are moving out of the city of Port-au-Prince somewhat.
So this is what I have seen of Haiti so far. I'll get more photos later, but not this many. It took me TOO long to get all the photos on computer, resized, edited, uploaded, and in order. :)
Keep praying for us, we need it.
Levi and I are going to Haiti this Thursday for 2 weeks with a team from Vineyard. (pray for us) I went to the Health Department (with Mom. Even though I am married and all, my mom still has to sign for me since I'm 17. They really need to change that!) last Thursday to get Hep A and Hep B. (that got switched to Hep A, Typhoid, and Tetanus boost) Anyhow, I don't like shots. They don't really hurt, they're just scary. So I'm sitting in the waiting room for what seems like "ever" doing what they call "an-tis-er-pate-n". We then get moved into the next room. If I was to label it, I'd call it the "Cost-er-fobia room". I'm still doing all the "an-tis-er-pate-n" that's expected for me and waiting while the nurse tries to sell me on more shots and pills... and college (she didn't understand that I have a nice job as an office manager now, but long term, a full time job changing dippers, cleaning service, laundry-mat runner, interior decorator, and chef for a family of, well, any unknown amount let’s say... under 6, will keep me quite busy and happy). Anyhow, she ended up giving me three shots, two in one deltoid, and one in the other deltoid. I didn't like it, just as usual. Mom then asks the nurse, "When you give the shots do they swallow the needles?" I later realized the syringes swallow the needles, not my arm. That realization offered some comfort. But not enough to stand up... I just decided to sit a little longer. Once I was cross-eyed and white the nurse realized that maybe I might be passing out. So she runs to get an ice pack and water. She came in just soon enough to catch my torso from toppling over my knees. I then start twitching (which husband says is typical for me, esp. in my sleep). However the twitching part is where Mom starts literally freaking out. (I had a friend who got epilepsy from immunizations) In fact she got so nervous she had to sit down. By this time I had come to it enough to realize Mom was going from it. I was still quite weak when she went out. The nurse was fanning us with her clipboard, switching the ice-pack from my neck, to Mom’s, to mine, to Mom’s, and trying to keep us both supplied with water from the little Dixie cups that hold one swallow. We ended up sitting in the "Cost-er-fobia room" longer than the waiting room, I do believe.
Anyhow, that’s the story of my April Fool’s day. Oh, and my brother sent me some e-mail about how some tech school was going to shut down the internet for a day to spring clean it. But I don’t know too much about techy stuff and it was written in a highly-techy manner so, he got me! Good job, Brad!
(This is me and him, taken my our other brother... I love them both oodles of amounts. They're the best big brothers a girl could ask for, really. In fact, they played Barbies with me! Usually that consisted of putting Ken and Barbie in my favorite pink convertible and pushing it with zeal so it would brutally wreck against, well, anything- they didn't care what it was they wrecked against, they just thought it was funny to see Ken and Barbie get thrown out of the car. I didn't even deserve this. I rarely picked on them. And if I did, and they picked back, I wouldn't have told on them to Mommy.)