Baby Bergly: Choosing To Fight Anyway

No matter how many miracles (on every scale) that we witness on a daily basis – whenever a rescue doesn’t end in success it is painful. It is painful because in choosing to fight for a child’s life we are choosing to be attached. To love. To go all in. Even when it doesn’t look promising. Even when it doesn’t even look hopeful. Aware of the potential pain in hopes of the potential success. And choosing to fight anyway.

Tonight my heart isn’t hurting for Bergly.

It actually makes me smile a little knowing that he has no more exhausted cries that sound like light little hums or emotional meltdowns (on his behalf) to get any kind of food into his belly. At two years old Bergly weighed only 11 lbs. (ya that’s right, what you probably weighed at birth) and any sense of exerted energy was just about too much for his little body to handle without a nap. And when I say exerted energy I mean swatting my hands away for too long and/or thinking of strategic ways to get the food out of his mouth before I got it back in. It really took it out of the little fella.

Tonight my heart is not hurting for him, but for his young mother who is about to receive news that her baby died. That she won’t even able to be there, to say goodbye, or to grieve at a burial. Just continue on with life as usual, as if he never was. My heart is hurting because I can not even imagine how her heart will be hurting.

I am grateful, however, that along with the news of baby Bergly’s passing we are able to sincerely say that he didn’t go down without a fight. That there were many people working on his behalf… staying up nights and monitoring him each day. Interceding on his behalf to the God who created him and numbered his days. There were people caring for him and loving him and taking care of his mother and brother. I am grateful for The Real Hope for Haiti and how they were willing to take him on, knowing his severity, and fight for him until the very last moment.

Bergly is only one of many stories of complications within malnutrition. The inevitable effects of a food crisis, a country in crisis, and a family in crisis. Stories like his are taking place many times every minute. Unknown names. Unknown faces. So often fading from this earth only known and loved by Jesus. One more reason I am so grateful to all who are making it possible for Danita to make our Medical Center a reality. So Mom’s like Bergly’s don’t have to spend the rest of her life wondering what her baby boy would have grown up to be like.

Psalm 34:18 “Our Lord is near to the brokenhearted, and he saves those who are crushed in their spirits.

Our Lord is always with us, but especially close in the moments that break our hearts. And tonight my broken hearted prayer is for Bergly’s mom. That she would find peace within the tragic reality and pain of losing a child after two years of a desperate struggle, and that she would know that God hears her hurt and He is present… even when she can’t identify Him.

… and that her sweet baby boy is safe, happy, and whole.

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An Honored & Slightly Exhausted Perspective

So, talk about blogging much… or the lack there of!

Sorry, folks.

There are so many moments that need to be shared, it’s sometimes hard to decide which to dwell on or even if I have it in me to process through it instead of accepting that it happened and continuing on. Lately, I haven’t found time to gather a simple sentence in my brain, much less put down those amazing, extreme, never-the-same-day-twice, life altering moments onto digital paper.

The past few weeks I’ve been running the girl’s house at Danita’s Children. A never ending mix of girls and teenagers and a whole heck of a lot of  hormones – my own included.

And, lucky for me, our girls are amazing.

They’re conscious of God and of others.

It’s an honor to hold the pressure of who these girls are becoming.

I can’t even get into their backgrounds and what they have overcome and how they still smile and press on.

It’s hard sometimes because I do what I can on such a lack of sleep, but wow. Life is very different in the disciplinarian’s shoes. I am good at being the “cool Aunt”. The “responsible, safety conscious, look out for their own future good” one… wow.

Ahh, Girls.

God knew what he was doing.

The worst part is, I see myself – my 12 year-old self, my 16 year-old self, my current self – in all of them.

Which makes the words “just trust me” weigh so much more.

Sigh.

The things that college doesn’t prepare you for…

That being said, and in light of the past few weeks of my life, I would like to state the following:

I get it now. I have had the epiphany of a parent’s perspective.

To every person who has ever has or is parented/ing: Props to you. Major, massive, props to you.

To My Mom: I’m sorry for calling your name or knocking on your door or looking through the crack to see if you were paying attention (or all at the same time) 18,000 times a day, everyday for the better part of about 14 years. I’m sorry for not doing it the first time you asked and for not realizing the extreme amount of strategic effort that it takes to just make a day with children happen from rolling out off the mattress at the sound of an alarm clock to falling back onto it at the bedtime that never seems to come.

To My Middle School Friends: I would like to acknowledge each and every very intense moment of our dramatic 12 year-old lives that we encountered together – boys, cheerleading, the works. Big shocker to us now – it all turned out all right. And when I say alright, of course I mean transitioned from 12 year-old intense moments to 20-something year-old intense moments. Such is life – surely in 20 more years I’ll be writing this same thing about today.

So… it is safe to say that I am now re-living those moments from a different perspective, being re-paid for the ones I thought I got away with and feeling like my mother on so many different occasions that it is scary!

All those parent-isms aren’t just for something to say after all.

From disciplining for things that are hilarious just to prove the principle while trying to keep a straight face, to buying an abundance of chocolate and Oreos when there is rumor of a potential heartbreak, to using the sandwich method at all times (something soft and sweet, then the harsh middle, then something positive again) to dodge any major potential meltdowns. With ages ranging from four to 20, you could get any thing at any time.

As you can imagine, I have found a whole new level of respect (if that is possible) for Brenda, our house mother, and her never ending amount of grace and patience, and a whole new appreciation for moments of silence.

I got to Santiago yesterday to pick up some visitors and the room they put me in is on the inside of a hallway so there are no windows. I’ve never loved a three hour taxi ride more. I literally – literally – walked into the room, put my bag on the foot of the bed, turned off the light and fell fast asleep for the next two hours, in a wonderfully freezing, dark, cave, where you never know exactly what time it is because there are no windows.

Bliss. Pure bliss.

… and if I haven’t said it lately: Thank you to all of you who make this life possible. I may be exhausted, but couldn’t be more content and honored to be living this life.

These Words Won’t Leave My Mind

As I continue to get backgrounds and histories on our children there are just some that don’t leave my heart. It’s so different when you see a child, then learn what their life is like.

I never continue to see them the same.

I then understand their actions, I feel their heart, I see their pain and I am humbled at their happiness and laughter.

One of our boys has a mother. She lives in our village and is very poor. She has a lot of children and leaves them alone a lot to go into the Dominican and work. They live in a two room house, and when I say two rooms I don’t mean two bedrooms. I mean like two rooms total in the house. Two wooden, square rooms the size of walk in closets.

Our boy loves his family. He is proud of them, but also grateful that he lives with us. He was having some behavior issues one time and his mother came to talk to him. What she said to him hasn’t left my mind.

She said, “I think you have forgotten what it’s like outside these walls, son. You don’t understand how good you have it…” – then the kicker – “…I just had to sell our bed to be able to feed the rest of your siblings this week.”

Sell their bed. The only bed. In order to eat.

Now all of his siblings and his mother will sleep on dirt at night. No blankets. No pillows.

—

I’m not asking you to feel guilty for what you have because God provides and His word says that He provides in abundance. More than enough. Extra… just because He wants to.

But I am asking you to feel grateful.

Because you really have it pretty good in life if you just take a second to look.

If you look around for things to be grateful for, you will indeed find things to be grateful for. However, if you look around for negative things, that is what you will find as well.

The question is – what are you looking for?

Laughter is Like Milk… It Does A Body Good!

 

I think God must have known that I needed a good laugh today.

I began creating profiles for our children so that when people inquire to sponsor them they have photos and information on hand of each child. In Haiti there are three levels of Kindergarden, so many of the children who I were interviewing today are brand new to the whole school idea.

The first week when school started there was the long lesson of – What do you mean I can’t just pee wherever I’m standing? What’s a bathroom?

And of course – I miss my mom!

And just the complete distraction of uniforms and pencils and chalk and all the other exciting things that come along with going to school for the first time.

The questions that I was asking today were about family and eating and favorite subjects. Mostly fun questions, but some are needed for medical history, hygiene, needs, etc.

However, starting with the four-year old class probably wasn’t the best idea since kids are kids no matter where you are and just because they live in the worst poverty in the Western Hemisphere they are just as unaware of everything past playing with cars and singing.

I got some of the best answers today trying to figure out things about these children.

A few went something like this:

“What’s your Mom’s name?”

“Little Lady.”

“No, not her nickname. What is her real name?”

“That’s it. Her sur name is Little Lady.”

When asking what these K-1 students would like to be when they grow up, I got a range of answers, including:

“a bear.”

“A woman who answers phones for people.”

“All of them. I want to be everything there is.”

“rice.” (No joke. That was her answer.)

Another question, “Does your mom have a job?”

I got one boy who said, “Yes – My Dad works and then pays my Mom to cook me food.”

and one boy proudly proclaimed, “Yes she has a job!”

“Well what is her job?”

“Each morning she bathes me, gives me food and sends me off to school.”

Ahhhh, kids. They’ll getcha every time.

Enjoy your Thursday folks. Laugh a little.

Goodnight,

Hope