{rice, beans & love}

I’ve just returned back to Haiti after a two-week trip back to Iowa. I got to watch my baby brother graduate from high school, see my best friends, visit with family and indulge on all my favorite American treats. But, I have also been reflecting a lot on the past year of my life.

One entire year of being a full-time missionary, mom, manager and minority in a country full of chocolate colored people, poverty and challenges has already passed.

One of the hardest questions I am always asked is “How long do you plan on staying in Haiti?” This question usually comes from a stranger or someone who doesn’t know I’m in love with a Haitian and am raising two children. While I was home, I was interviewed for a news story done on Vi Bella. The lady who covered the story asked me this exact question. I blushed as I told her I was dating a Haitian and may end up spending the rest of my life here, I quickly told her to not put that part on the news though!

Truth is, I don’t know how long I will end up being here. Truth is, I also have no idea about anything anymore. I use to have such a defined perspective of the world we live in. Truth is, my perspective on things has changed in the past year.

As many of you have followed my journey this past year, you’ve read about many of the challenges I have faced and the hard issues I have addressed. I was so sure of what I was doing a year ago, but now I find myself in a whirlwind not knowing how I will ever be able to help all the people who need the help.

This past Thursday, I was sitting at my gate in Chicago after just receiving news that our flight had been delayed 3 hours and as a result I was going to miss my connecting flight to Port-au-Prince, which would mean I would be spending the night by myself in a hotel instead of with my boys. I was bummed, but not as crabby as some of the other travelers. I have yet to understand why some people have to act like such idiots in situations where the weather and mechanical issues are nothing we can control or change.

But, then there was a small girl, probably 2-years-old, who was being held by her mom. She pointed out the window over her mom’s shoulders and asked her, “What’s that big tower for? Is that a castle?”

The mom responded, “No, that’s where the good guys work, they are going to find us a new plane since our plane isn’t working.”

And, she believed it. That response was good enough and she was content to sit at Gate K18 until the good guys found us a new plane.

I wished in that moment that I could have the capability to have the contentment of a child. I wish my mom could point out the “towers” and show me where the good guys are in this world.

My perspective of the world has drastically changed over the past year. At the age of 23, I have learned there aren’t any magical towers with “good guys” and magical wishes. I have learned that if we want to live in a better world, it takes a lot of hard work. I have learned that the people I want to help the most are even willing to take advantage of me in the process. I have learned that more people are capable of making the world a better place but they are so blinded by our materialistic, cosmetic and fake society they don’t know any better.

The perspective I have on the world has become harsh and ragged. I travel home to designer name brands and luxury items. I travel back to a place that most people in the world will never experience, let alone imagine. I travel back with a pit in my stomach as I try to digest our society in America all over again. I just don’t get why we get to have so much and they only get so little.

My favorite restaurant to go to is Granite City and my favorite people to go with are my two best friends from high school. The night before I traveled back to Haiti, I found myself eating my favorite waffle fries with Granite City dip and laughing with my two friends. I thought to myself how I only wished I could have a girls’ night like that at least once a month, just a night to relax.

But as I paid my $16.00 bill, I thought of the boy who needed new tennis shoes to go to school and the mom who was struggling to feed to her baby. Their faces and names are real to me; they’re not just another number or statistic. They’re not another face in the crowd to me and they could have used that $16.00 more than I needed those French fries.

My two friends paid their bills, too, without a glance and I realized how I will never be “normal” again. These faces flash through my mind and my perspective of the world changes again.

If only we could take our blindfolds off. If only we could hear the truth in poverty and not continue to just read the headlines of “Haiti, poorest country in the western hemisphere.” Haiti is so much more than that statement, but that is what we have belittled it to be.

My perspective of the world has changed. My dreams aren’t full of “me” anymore, but full of ways for how to make the world just a little better. My desire is for those of you privileged enough to read this – I say privileged not because I’m a good writer and you should feel so because you’re reading my work, but because I consider you privileged by the smart phone you are holding in your hand, or the lab top that is comfortably positioned on your lap or the nice leather desk chair you find yourself seated on with the desktop in front of you. You’re privileged because you have access to clean water, quality education, dependable hospitals, fast speed Internet, comfortable chairs, French fries, etc, etc, etc, etc….. Consider yourself privileged if you can afford to spend $16.00 on meal without thinking twice.

I think that if we were able, for even one minute, to remove the blindfolds our society has blinded us with, the perspectives of our worlds would drastically change. If we could only begin to see the ones who are truly struggling and be willing to listen to the oppressed, we could see a change in our world. If our priorities switched from who has the biggest house on the block to helping those living on dirt floors, we could see a change in our world. If we skipped eating out one meal a month to sponsor a child in school, we could see a change in our world.

If only.

Some days I wish I could still see the world the way I did when I was 19-years-old, before I was ever exposed to true poverty. I sometimes wish I wasn’t bold enough to fight for the people who I do, but then I realize that that would be pretty selfish of me.

And, I think it is pretty selfish of our society to not allow our blindfolds to be taken off. I dare you to take yours off, it may be scary and I can almost guarantee you that you won’t like what you truly see, but there’s potential in the difference you could make in this world. Allow your perspective to change; you owe it to the world.

P.S. the person who has made the biggest impact on my life is my son Loveson, we celebrated his “birthday” (we won’t ever know his real birth date, so we celebrated his “got ya!” date) this past weekend. Look at what one year can do to a person!

first picture of Loveson when he came a year ago…and him with his first birthday cake a year later!

Loveson weighed 16 pounds and wore 18 month onesies when he first came…he’s doubled his body weight and has meat on his bones now!

God is good, even in the midst of hurt and turmoil.

Love from Haiti.

I’ve been doing this whole “mother” thing for 345 days. Exactly 345 days ago when I flew to Haiti on a one-way ticket to take it all on full-time, 20 days short of one full year. Webert and I had rescued Jeffte the summer before, but I didn’t feel like a real mom until that moment when I landed in Haiti, not knowing when I would be back again.

Not even 48 hours into being Jeffte’s mom, Loveson came into our lives. Being a part of an orphanage crash, Loveson more or less fell into our lives out of nowhere, but Webert and I couldn’t help but completely fall in love with his spirit.

So, there I was, taking on the task of being a mom. And what a task it truly is. I remember a key chain my mom always had in her car. It read, “Motherhood is not for wimps!” I never really understood it, but now I get it, I totally get it.

Over the past year, I’ve had so many “mom moments” and in them I couldn’t help but think of my own amazing mother. All these insignificant moments while growing up, I’m now realizing were the moments that would mold me into the mom I am today.

The moments I find myself rubbing calamine on Jeffte’s bug bites or waking Loveson up to drink some cough syrup in the middle of the night, I thank my mom.

The moments of getting them out of the bath and rubbing them down with lotion, I thank my mom.

The moments of wiping dirty butts, cleaning dirty beds and doing non-stop laundry, I thank my mom.

The moments of cutting up food and wiping hands after meals, I thank my mom.

The moments of snuggling and kissing goodnight, I thank my mom.

What seem like repetitive and insignificant moments, only lead me to remembering and realizing the amazing childhood I had because of my mom.

The summer nights covered in bug bites and sunburns, she was there to comfort my pain. The nights of coughing and being sick, she was there to take care of me. Every meal and every bath time as a child, I remember my mom. And the nights she’d tuck me in and sing, “Jeremiah was a Bullfrog.” Why she sang that song, I’m not quite sure of, but I will always remember that he was a good friend of mine, I never really understood a word he said, but I helped him drink his wine, yes, he always had some mighty fine wine! Singing JOY TO THE WORLD.

As I grew up and went off to college, my mom turned into my best friend. I practically had her on speed dial those four years in college. Going from a college graduate to a full-time mom, wasn’t exactly the easiest transition, but of course mom was always there for encouragement. This past year of being a mom myself has made me realize more than ever how truly blessed I am to have the mom that I do.

So mom, for all those “mom moments” – those all day, everyday, self-draining, exhausting & repetitive moments – thanks for doing them with such grace over the years. Thanks for doing them with such care and patience. Thanks for teaching me how to work hard and be honest. Most of all, thank you for being an amazing role model of a mom, someone who I can look up to as I face my own set of challenging “mom moments” on a daily basis.

And, for all the things I never said thank you for:

The baskets full of clean laundry, the cinnamon and sugar toast every morning, and the “3 backyard rules.” The years of cheering me on at sporting events, the dance recitals, birthday parties and sleepovers. For all the trips you had to make to school because I forgot something at home. The tears I have cried on your shoulder, the secrets I have whispered in your ears and the dreams of mine you have helped turn into a reality. The hallmark cards you hide in my suitcases, the care packages you send and the late night calls.

Thank you for it all.

I couldn’t have learned from anyone better, so thank you, just thank you.

Love you mom, and happy mother’s day.

Only 3 more sleeps!

Tonbe damou pou Jezi,

Tonbe damou pou Jezi,

Tonbe damou pou Jezi,

Pi gran desizyon m te pran.

I sang these lyrics repeatedly in church yesterday morning, as hundreds of followers gathered for worship. As I held a sweet 2-year-old in my arms with sweat dripping down my back, yearning for even the slightest breeze, I meditated on the lyrics I sang, which translate to,

Falling in love with Jesus,

Falling in love with Jesus,

Falling in love with Jesus,

Was the best thing I’ve ever done.

And ya know, it just really is.

Although I grew up in a Christian home, with memories of Christmas pageants, youth groups and church camps, Christ was never real to me. He became more and more real to me as he revealed himself to me through His Word. My last 2 years in college, behind closed doors and very privately, I began to explore and study the Bible for the first time. And the deeper I got into His Word, the things I valued most in my life became less important to me. Relationships and “other treasures” grew farther away as I fell deeper in love with Jesus. It wasn’t something that happened quickly or suddenly, but it was more or less a transformation that happened over a period of time.

And ya know, that changes people. It changed me.

It says in Matthew 6:21, “For wherever you treasure is, there your heart will be also.”

Falling in love with Jesus requires complete transformation of your heart. Falling in love with Him will also require a change of plans. For me, He asked me to change my plans of becoming a successful graphic designer to a missionary with no plan at all. I like to think I have it all under control here, with intricate plans all worked out in my head, but lets be honest, I’m winging this one day at a time.

I sang these lyrics wondering if falling in love with Jesus really, just really, was the best thing that I have ever done?

If I hadn’t, I know I wouldn’t be where I am. I wouldn’t be living the life that I do.

If I hadn’t, I never would have had enough strength to make the leap of faith or the strength to listen and tell the stories of the oppressed, poor and hurting.

If I hadn’t, I wouldn’t have had enough courage to take on the job at ViBella, to be a mother of two, or to become a part of an entirely different community and culture.

If I hadn’t, my heart would still be hard, angry and only storing up things “…where moth and rust destroy, and where thieves break in and steal.” (Matthew 6:19)

If I hadn’t, my life wouldn’t have led me to writing this blog or to me singing in another language or to me making new friends.

And for all those reasons, it truly was the best thing that I have ever done.

As fellow believers, I hope that you would agree with me. I hope you would agree that falling in love with Jesus and accepting Him as your Savior is the best thing you will ever do. It’s an act that can lead life into the unexpected. But, the good unexpected, full of love, mercy and grace.

For the unbelievers, I hope someday you’ll find yourself falling madly in love with Jesus. I don’t think you’ll regret it.

sweet Magdalie and I this past Saturday

On Easter, I wrote about a girl who I had found with a severe burn. Over the past 5 weeks she has become one of my new friends. She is so sweet, each time I see her she truly brightens my day. I thank Jesus for crossing our paths and for allowing me to be the “hands and feet” that help heal her little body. We give thanks for the healing that has happened on her small body; only a quarter-sized area remains raw, the rest of the area being nearly healed.

I hope someday I can be as brave as her.

So, ya know, stories like Magdalie’s make me realize that falling in love with Jesus was the best thing that I have ever done.

Without that, there wouldn’t be stories for me to tell at all.

Love from Haiti.

 Over spring break in March, a chicken coop was built in the mountaintop by the school. I had been envisioning this dream for a long time and I am excited things are finally in full swing!

My brother, his friend, a cousin and uncle of mine all made this vision of mine come true. They raised the funds and built the coop while visiting in March and this past Friday we were finally able to buy the chickens! (We bought them full-grown so they have already started laying eggs and this morning, in fact, we enjoyed our own eggs for the first time!)

Teams of two were put together (14 teenage boys total), each team having a designated day to care for the chickens and gather the eggs. We have also hired a man who will oversee the project and make sure everything is taken care of properly. Out of this project, I hope to teach the boys responsibility and provide a small salary with the eggs that we sell. Also, each boy will be able to gather 6 eggs for his family on the day that he works to provide for his family. We are starting small, but I hope and see this being a project that can grow and effect a lot of the young boys in our school.

group meeting with all the boys

a happy Chrisanto with a new chicken

To become involved with Operation Chicken Coop, donate $10 to allow us to buy more chickens and provide feed. (Each full-grown chicken costing $10).

Touch of Hope Haiti

205 Old Mill Lane

Rock Rapids, Iowa 51246

I’m thinking I may have to change my blog to Chickens, Eggs and Love now 😉

Love from Haiti.

We all knew the day would come sooner than later, but unfortunately it came too soon. The Tytoo canter, the piece of transportation that makes Tytoo Gardens Orphanage run, has officially died. The canter is used for transporting the kids to and from church and other activities; used for shopping at the local market to buy all the groceries; used for transportation for teams who come to work and stay at Tytoo; and is used to run all the other errands that need to be done to allow the orphanage to operate. Without the canter, it is nearly impossible to do daily operations without there being a loaded amount of stress and hassle.

Today, I’m launching a ViBella Fundraiser to help raise money for a new vehicle for Tytoo. The ViBella center that I manage is in the same village as the orphanage, so this fundraiser will not only help us raise money, but will keep my 8 full-time employees working!

It’s a WIN-WIN-WIN!

How does it work?

1.) Go to www.vibellajewelry.com

2.) Shop all of the great new styles that just came out (Don’t forget Mother’s Day and Graduation is coming up :))

3.) When checking out, include TYTOO BUS in your special instructions in order for all credit to be received for this project.

4.) Share this event with all your friends and family to ensure a successful fundraiser!

Don’t need any jewelry, but would like to donate to this cause?

Send a check to :

Touch of Hope

205 Old Mill Lane

Rock Rapids, Iowa 51246

memo: Tytoo Bus

Thanks for the support!

Be blessed.

Love from Haiti.

By now, you’ve probably all heard the sad news of Webert not being granted his visa to travel to the United States with me next month. We were both very sad Friday night, I actually don’t think I have cried that hard in a very long time.

But the sun still rose Saturday morning and we had some work to do at the school. As we came over the hilltop we were surprised to find our seventh and eighth grade temporary rooms completely ruined. There was a hard rain on Friday night, causing the tent roof to completely collapse and tear. But instead of another disappointment, Webert and I just laughed and said “praise Jesus,” because you know what!?

Our third school building was officially completed and finished this past Thursday! Chalkboards were installed yesterday and classes will be held in the new building tomorrow morning.

It’s funny that the whole school year we have been holding our breath and crossing our fingers for this temporary construction not to fall and the day after the permanent classrooms were finished, it fell!!

Funny how God made us laugh even after a major disappointment. We will never understand the plans He has for us nor will we be able to control His timing, but so far He has proven himself faithful so we will just continue to rely on his faithfulness and promises with hope.

“Not only so, but we rejoice in our sufferings, because we know that suffering produces perseverance; perseverance, character; and character, hope. And hope does not disappoint us…”-Romans 5:3-4

I’ve been reminiscing on my very first few moments in Haiti. Moments that happened nearly four years ago. We stepped off the airplane and out into the streets of Port-au-Prince, a place you can’t imagine until you experience it all on your own. At the time there was no open area to catch your breath, like there is now. You were just thrown into the chaos. It was also the first time in my life that I was a complete minority.

We drove away from the airport in an old school bus that felt like it could fall apart at any moment. I remember thinking, “What the @#!$ is my dad doing bringing us to this place? How will I ever survive here for an entire week?”

Jokes on me, I guess, since I live here full-time now!

But, little by little, my heart broke into a million tiny pieces. Children latched on, little eyes locked eyes with mine and ever since I’ve been a mess, more or less.

My life just hasn’t made much sense. Or is it that my life had never made sense before Haiti and now it does? I’m not quite sure, I guess it’s what I’m trying to figure out.

But from the very beginning moments, I remember my desire to spend time in the villages. Trying to figure out how they do it, how do they really survive living like this? I always complained having to share a bathroom with my sister, but these people? They’re happy if they have running water in their village, let alone their home.

I remember in the beginning moments always trying to peak down the hidden paths. I wanted to see what was behind the gates, I wanted to venture onto the unknown. I remember zooming past all these little hidden alleys while on the bus, and I tried so hard to catch even the slightest glimpse as to what their lives must be like.

And now so many moments, so many days, even years, have passed since those beginning moments of heartbreak and fear.

The first time I cried (like the sobbing, shaking, ugly cry) happened in Madam Lucian’s orphanage. We were handing out dum dum suckers and after a few minutes I looked down and a small girl, probably no older than 2-years-old, was at my feet crying. She was too small to reach high enough to be seen and grab a sucker. To relieve her fear of not getting a sucker, I bent down, picked her up and personally unwrapped and gave her a sucker. A moment later, I picked up another small girl.

Within moments the first little girl, the one who had worked so hard to get her sucker in the first place, began sharing with the second little girl. Such a simple act of kindness. Of sharing. She taught me so much in that simple moment and I guess since then I have been trying to be a little more like her.
(And who would have known that my parents would rescue a dying boy from there several months later and that my first adopted son would also come from the same orphanage!)

There have been so many other moments like those on this journey. But, there have been some bad ones too. I talk about the kindness, but I’ve definitely seen the greed. I’ve been taken advantage of and the feeling of being expected to give, give, give can just wear a person out. To tell you the truth, I’ve been feeling a little worn out.

Then the other day, it was a busy and weird day. But, I found myself in Port-au-Prince driving past it all again: the garbage, the beggars, the homeless, the tents, the everything. The drive brought me back to that first initial bus ride, when I was thinking, “what the @#!$ , dad?”

My heart has been shattered and broken so many times since that drive. But, the feeling of being worn down makes it seem more callused. More hard. And I don’t want to go back to having a hard heart. So, I debated with myself.

How do you continue moving forward, dealing with all the junk (by junk, I’m talking about the lady who wanted me to take her baby, to the ex-prostitute who just wants to take advantage of the white people, to the sick 3-year-old who threw up in my lap, to the obnoxious amount of work we go to just to have land in Haiti, etc…….- this all being stuff that happened within one weird day) without becoming a crazy person? Without letting your heart become hard and your money run dry? Without losing motivation and passion for whom you’re serving?

And then it happens…

I was walking up the mountainside to visit the Noel family. The children saw me coming from a far and started chanting, “Meh Kayla, aaaa, meh Kayla, aaa!” Like my own little cheer crowd.

All it takes is a moment.

It’s all worth it, you know? We hugged, we laughed, I screamed and jumped when a cockroach jumped out of a bucket, we laughed some more! We cheered “BRAVO” as momma had another successful day selling fish. She’s finally getting back onto her own two feet. We talked about how Jesus is good, and laughed some more.

It’s about realizing it’s all about the moments. There are big ones, good ones and unfortunately too many bad and disappointing ones. There’s lots of work and not enough patience, but it’s a journey and I guess I need to get better at letting the hard moments pass and be better at holding onto the good moments a little tighter and a litter longer.

Love from Haiti.

I guess the story starts with a brave soul raising her hand in the midst of a crowd. She raised her hand as a declaration to accept Jesus into her heart.

Viola is a single mother of four, living in a tent house with a dirt floor. The father of her children left her with no reason at all and I’m not sure what gave her the courage to raise her hand on that warm summer day. Since accepting Jesus into her life, she has gotten a job and just recently found out her family will be receiving a new home, as part of a government project. Her story is a testimony of the Lord’s faith to his wandering sheep.

I haven’t been the same since the day Viola accepted Jesus. She’s not just a friend, but more of a sister. When she fell and hurt her arm, I made sure she had what she needed. When I was tired, I laid my head on her shoulder. When she had a fever, I grabbed her cheeks and asked what’s wrong. When I had a stomachache, she brought me cold water. She looks to me for provision and hope. I look at her and see the hope.

Some of my favorite moments in Haiti are when I’m welcomed with open arms into homes. Not the kind of welcoming we are use to in the United States. There’s no foyer to kick off your shoes, no comfy sofa to make you feel at home, no kitchen table to gather around, no pot of coffee or coke on the rocks. But, there is a spirit of hospitality all of its own. It’s an awkward moment of trying to fit into the tiny homes to begin with. Then taking a moment and realizing the amount of nothingness they possess. They’ll offer a wooden chair or a sunken bed to sit on. You will feel almost guilty if you don’t sit. So you make yourself comfortable, or as comfortable as possible.

Yesterday I went to visit Viola and was welcomed precisely this way. A group of 10 of us, including many children, gathered inside her house to pray. A house that holds three beds and a table neatly organized with cups and bowls. A house with a dirt floor, the cleanest dirt you’ll ever see. A house with just one little window, to let in a little breeze. A stack of clothes packed in the corner, but other than that, not much…not much at all.

We gathered there and I shared with visitors how the Lord was working in her life, then we prayed for more provision, more faithfulness and more grace. We said “amen” and I tickled a little girl on our way out. On the path leading back to the truck I noticed another little girl with a large bandage wrapped around her chest and shoulder. I knelt down and asked, “Kisa ou genyen la cheri?” What do you have there, sweetheart? Boule. A burn. I peeled back her bandage just for a peek and realized it was severe.

I searched for the mom and asked how did it happen, how long ago, have you seen a doctor.

It was from a candle.

One month ago.

Doctor David (a local medical remedy doctor, so no doctor at all)

I took mom and daughter, 5-year-old Magdalie, to a close by nurse. As we peeled back the bandage, I could help but turn away in horror. Complete raw skin across her chest going under the armpit. She cried out in pain, not trusting anyone. As the nurse went to clean the wound, she cried “mwen vle fe pou kont mwen” I want to do it by myself.

She’s got more bravery in the tip of her fingers than I do in my whole body. She cleaned her wound and put on the cream all by herself. I couldn’t believe my eyes. Today as I went to her home to change the dressing, it was the same thing. I got on my knees, with shaking hands and watery eyes as she bravely tore away the bandage and applied the cream. I held back the tears just for her sake, but I was so scared, so sad, and so worried for this small life.

Tomorrow Magdalie and mom will be seeing a burn specialist. After one month, she will finally be getting the care she deserves.

I thought of Magdalie today as I sang in Easter service church. As I read scripture about Jesus being whipped, beaten and nailed to a cross, I thought of Magdalie. I read about the resurrection and the healing and the hope.

I read that he died for me.

For Magdalie.

And for you.

I read that he will bring healing to those he loves and if we dare to raise our hands to accept him, he will grant us eternal lives in heaven.

I believe he died to save me. To save Magdalie. To save Viola. To save you.

I believe, by prayer, he will heal Magdalie’s body.

And I believe, by faith, someday we will all dance and sing with our Heavenly Father in new bodies. In new and perfect bodies.

And what a day that will be.

But, today my heart is heavy, so please pray with me for the healing of Magdalie’s body.

The past few weeks have been quite a blur with 16 different visitors coming to visit my little world here in Haiti. It was three weeks full of work, laughter and great fellowship. As I downloaded and clicked through all the pictures, I’m reminded how blessed I am to have the family and friends that I do. Especially family and friends who are willing to travel thousands of miles to see me!

Here are a few of my favorite moments from the past few weeks:

A 10-year-old girl from Rock Rapids had gathered gifts for her sponsored child instead of receiving presents for herself for her golden birthday. It was a blessing to deliver the presents, along with my pastor, his wife, my mom and Webert. We met Wilna, the sponsored child, and her two brothers standing outside their tent, which they call home. They invited us in, to only find a small pot of rice steaming on a small open fire and a stuffy tent being help together by ropes and scraps. Inside were two small beds and a shelf holding their belongings. In the corner, I recognized three neatly hung school uniforms. We all gathered and scrunched inside, got down on our knees and watched as their eyes lit up with joy. Mackenlove, the oldest, separated all the presents and was most excited about the brightly colored sunglasses. Wilna couldn’t believe her new beautiful clothes, and Ismaelove, the youngest, held on tight to his new stuffed toy.

Pastor Dan and Sue also got to meet their sponsored boy, Lorguens. I had recently noticed an absent Lorguens in school and finally got the opportunity to get to the bottom of the situation when Dan and Sue arrived. We were informed his school uniform had been stolen, hence his absence in school. We are getting him a new uniform sewn and hope to see him back in school after Easter break!

Three friends from Omaha also visited and two of them ran a clinic at Tytoo, seeing over 120 patients in 3 days! The first night they got here, we went to a worship service and the lights were out, so spent 2 hours worshipping in complete darkness. I remember feeling so alone, not being able to see anyone and knowing no one could watch me except for the Creator himself. Worshipping in complete awe, one on one with Him.

On our way home, we rode in the back of the truck with a group of teenage girls and laughed the entire way. Riding in the pitch dark, with nothing but the stars and moon lighting up the sky. Haiti has a way of striking me in moments such as these.

Julie, founder of Vi Bella, also made her way to Haiti with a group. My favorite moment with them was having a worship time up at the school and praying over the land. As we prayed, all I could think about was all the miracles that took place to make our time together possible: ownership of the land, my mom’s recovery from Hepatitis A, the dreams of Vi Bella, the visions for the mountaintop, the growth of our school and the chance for believers to gather in a place where the Holy Spirit sweeps through the wind and before you is the ocean and behind you are the rolling mountains.

In the past few weeks we have also begun construction for our third school building, which of course is amazing too! Major renovations have also been happening at Tytoo, including a new kitchen, new sidewalks, new team rooms, a new baby room and a new apartment for staff!

My biggest adventure was with my brother and his friend, Ben. We left to go kayaking, Luke pulling me on a floatie behind. By the end of our trip, we had a broken paddle, tipped kayak full of water, a lost floatie and total surrender. We luckily had some passing by fishermen who we paid to bring us home!

Other favorite moments included herding goats; shopping in a market full of art made of tin; learning how to clean, gut and grill fresh shrimp; feeding baby goats; playing pegs & jokers (board game); being a translator; listening to my boys pray before meals; watching the sunsets; eating cake; having movie nights; playing sand volleyball; learning how to fly a kite; building a chicken coop; meeting newborn babies; seeing prayers be answered; being with old friends; making new friends; and being fully captivated by an all-knowing and all-loving Father.

All in three short weeks! God is good.

Love from Haiti

A three and a half pound miracle entered our world a week and a half ago. From the very beginning the pregnancy was high risk: mother having had 4 previous miscarriages and one premature infant death. I remember her sharing her story with me on a warm fall day, after just realizing she was pregnant. She shared with me how badly she wished for not only a healthy baby, but for a baby girl. I walked alongside the momma for the eight months, rubbing her belly every time I saw her in passing. Saying a little prayer as my hands traced the makings of a miracle. At eight months pregnant, mother Bebe gave birth to her first daughter, Ismael, the first baby girl in a family of three boys.

The tiniest baby I have ever seen, almost seemed fake as I stroked her tiny fingers that first day. When I asked the mother what she needed the most, her response was a basket to carry her in because she was too small to handle and carry around.

This past Saturday I went to a local artist, who makes all sorts of baskets out of dried banana leaves. I asked for a basket to carry a four pound baby in and when I went to pick up my order today I was so excited! Baby Ismael now has a bed fit just for her. How precious is that?

World meet Ismael. Ismael meet world.