God Opportunities…

So when I’m running the boys house it’s quite easy to be totally and completely exhausted and totally and completely content and totally and completely going crazy. At the end of the day I’m just praying and hoping and wishing that no one else needs my assistance… which really means that I’m thinking “if one more person says my name”. Karris Hudson lives there and she is basically my hero. It’s a fury of dirty shoe, dirty shirt, dirty face madness as soon as those cuties come plowing up the stairs and through the doors. From there it’s lines of bathing, pjs, devotions like you’ve never experienced, homework, hilarious story times and any excuse not to have to go to sleep. There is usually at least one who is sick, crying or peeing the bed; and the list of things to do after they’re all fast asleep never seems to end – security supplies and locking down the property and ensuring that the older boys in our church aren’t like playing volleyball across the bunk beds and getting everything in earthquake position (because you never know what could happen) and a gazillion other things that I don’t even have energy to discuss.

Although most see these as complaints – or a crazy description that they would never volunteer for – I never end one of these crazy nights feeling anything less than totally grateful and honored to be called “Mami”. And for a side note… I mean, ya know, just for what it’s worth…I will say that I was doing a rather stand up job until Mami Karrisssssss came home with an abundance of snacks and treats and stole my thunder. I mean, it’s cool… It’s okay, I’m not bitter.

So I totally just went on a rabbit trail that isn’t even the point of this story but it is the reason that this story will become two parts. The point, is the moment that caught my heart, and reminded me of the sweet moments of opportunity that I miss when I get so caught up in long list of crazy madness that never stops.

Each night I pray for moments of opportunity. For my time here to be more than just work. To see people as people, with stories and children and histories of suffering that I can barely comprehend. To not become consumed with frustration at the humanity of this culture. For God to be continually uplifted and for our children especially to have an open line of communication about Christ. Shame on me for praying these prayers and seeing these needs and then becoming so consumed with the humdrum of crazy life in Haiti and forgetting to be aware when these opportunities that I continually pray for present themselves.

So for now – here’s to being aware of God opportunities! And the story continues…

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You Shall Live & Not Die

When we arrived he was lying all alone. Alone in a dark room with two beds and an iv stand. Alone on urine soaked sheets and crying for someone to take him to the toilet.

Reason #762 as to why we can’t finish our medical center fast enough.

Witson’s mother took him, at four years old and only 16 pounds, in desperation to the hospital in our village. Knowing that she had no money and his condition was so advanced, they based his value on mere dollars, a liability of wasted time, and chose not to commit to his recovery. They sent them both away, back into the street. His abs protrude from his stomach and every rib in his chest is visible. It seems painful just for him to breathe.

Unfortunately, in the lifestyle of survival the value of a human life is compromised for the sake of the remaining family. If one child is sick it is easier to sacrifice that child – and not feed him – in order to keep the others progressing.

In lieu of that they sent him to Danita’s Children. We have no iv’s, no equipment in place, no staff, yet the best hospital in town sent this dying boy to us, knowing that we are the only place in Ounaminthe willing to take a risk for a human life. Willing to go all in. Willing to commit to save a life so valued by our God. And now the same hospital that sent him away sees that after only two days of treatment he is showing extreme signs of recovery. The same boy that they were so quick to let go unnoticed.

You think the life of a missionary is so glamorous? It’s really just being willing to do the little things. The sometimes gross things. Because they’re worth it. It’s continually walking into a dark room at a hospital in our village to ensure that our patient wasn’t put out on the street since our last visit. It’s carrying his fragile urine soaked little body to the toilet and sitting there with him while he struggles and is in pain. It’s then changing the soaked sheets that he has been lying in for hours because no one on staff at the hospital has even stopped to check. It’s continually checking his eyes to ensure that he hasn’t entered into a coma. It’s sitting by his bed, while people sit and wait in desperation for help outside in the hall, continually pleading for a life, declaring Psalm 118 over his little spirit, “You shall live and not die, and declare the work of the Lord.”

One day soon we will not have to beg for people to take risks with us. We will not have to plead with this community to commit for the sake of one human life. We will receive those in desperation and do everything possible to begin them on a journey to recovery.

Because they’re worth it.

Hot Showers and Such…

I was recently reading a blog of a girl who lives in a developing country and she does great things for God: she raises multiple children who would otherwise live hungry most days, and she feeds hundreds each week and she teaches English at a small village school. Her life is full of joy and hardship I’m sure, but she is gracious and humbled to do what she does. Although I was inspired by her faith and pursuit, there was a small bit that I couldn’t disagree more with and that I fear a lot of times the terms “missionary” or “mission work”, etc.. get wrapped up in.

This girl was describing the lifestyle of some of the people who surrounded her – their living conditions, their eating habits, their constant desperation for help – and challenging her readers to think more often toward those are aren’t as fortunate as themselves. However, she took that a bit further to say that she was praying that every time people who live in America take a hot shower that she is praying that they feel guilty over the water running over them.

 Wait.

Not only is a hot shower not shameful, but it is a hot shower that a business owner, church member or basic supporter is under each night who make every bit of a missionaries work possible.

I understand her point. But, it is being focused within and being consumer driven and selfish that is wrong. It isn’t the hot shower that should ensue guilt. It isn’t having nice things and enjoying all the abundance of the Lord. It is a greedy mindset that is wrong. Not thinking past ourselves or of the priorities of our God that is wrong.

In fact:

I am so grateful for every single business-minded, wealthy person, pastor, church member, believer, or non-believer for that matter, who understands the importance of legitimate change in developing countries, and sees the potential to act as the hands and feet of Christ through providing for others to go. Whether they may have never been out of the county, never have a desire to rescue a dying child off of the street or could simple not want to rough it in the mists of under-educated people and desolate, desperate lands.

 I’m even grateful for them if they took a hot shower tonight.

Even a little jealous.

The point is, it doesn’t have to be this or that. One is not right or wrong, or better than the other. All equally important although some are not doing what were doing, or doing it how were doing it.

That is all. Goodnight folks. Enjoy your shower.

XOXO,

Hope