The Desert and the Mountain Top

Sometimes the Lord calls us to a desert, sometimes he calls us to a mountain top.

This summer is definitely one of transition for NVM. A new nurse, Katherine, arrived from the states to start her one year commitment here only a few weeks before Aubree, one of NVM's first nurses left Haiti to go back to school in Indiana. Change has a tendency to be uncomfortable, and I've felt this despite only being here four weeks. So many emotions are found in a community saying goodbye to an integral member while simultaneously welcoming another. In addition, two other staff members are leaving shortly to pursue school back home. Interns are starting to see the end of their time here as well as each day passes and summer ages. Considering all this, I've been reminded of God's faithfulness across periods that feel unstable. Timing is difficult to understand but His timing is perfect, and He is loyal to His children. I take comfort in believing that each of us have a purpose while we're here and that when He calls us elsewhere, that's because He has a plan for us elsewhere. And that is something to be hopeful about.

Last week was an adventurous week. Two large teams were here from the U.S. to help run VBS and mobile clinics in surrounding communities outside of NVM. Each day I had the priviledge to participate with the medical trips. Tuesday and Wednesday we went to Onaville, a larger area pretty close by that's scattered across the mountainous terrain down the road from us. It was the same process that happens here on campus. The patients wait one by one to meet with a doctor or nurse to explain their symptoms and, in turn, receive an order for meds. They bring their papers to us at the "pharmacy" where we arrange in baggies the meds they need. Every patient's order is different.

Typically we give them enough for 1-2 weeks, but it depends on each medication and person. After gathering the right doses, someone has to explain to each patient how to take them. How many each day, for how long, what it's for, etc. Obviously this has to be done in Creole. The American team members helping us were given the task of sorting the needed meds for each patient which meant that Abby and I were the most equipped out of the group to do the teaching portion. It's still kind of crazy to me that I would actually have the ability to do this. Brooke, the American nurse who lives here full-time and speaks fluently, was with us but trusted us with these roles and allowed us to handle majority of the communicating.

Each mobile clinic day we saw at least twice as many patients as we do at NVM. The second day at Onaville I think we saw almost 200 people. A normal amount on campus would be 45. We started mid morning each day and typically finished around 1 or 2pm, but by that time my brain was always completely worn out. We'd hand out the last bag of meds, pack everything up into our tap-tap (truck/bus vehicle-thing) and bounce our way back to Chambrun.

Thursday the medical team went out to set up a clinic in Thomazea, but nobody showed up because the tropical storm Chantal was coming. I stayed on campus to help in the clinic here. It was one of Katherine's first days being the only American nurse in there because Aubree had to go pick up her mom from the airport and Brooke had to go with the medical team. We didn't expect it to be an eventful day seeing that storms were coming and no one goes out in bad weather here, but sure enough we had about 20 patients that were sick enough to decide the journey was worth it.

One man in particular was extremely ill. From first glance I knew he needed special attention. Katherine brought him to a bed and we continued triaging the other patients. Shortly after finishing the doctor initiated for our Haitian nurse to start an IV because he was extremely dehydrated. Katherine and I weren't clued in on the plan, but fortunately she peeked her head in his room and saw they were searching for an entry point. Patients starting bringing back their orders so I filled and handed out their prescriptions while Katherine tried to help with the young man. They tried starting an IV but with no success. His veins were impossible. At one point they were able to start one and give him a couple hundred mililiters of fluids, but then the vein blew. He perked up some, but was still in poor condition. Someone thought to give him pedialyte, but he threw all of it up because he was told to swallow too much too fast. With limited further options, the doctor decided to refer him to a hospital and the man left.

What do you do when everyone you work with speaks another language? One that you are learning but are still at a point where your commication skills are limited. How can you advocate for your patient's well-being and offer your expertise, especially in a scenario where it's needed but your colleagues don't fully trust that yet because you're new? Katherine explained later that in the states she would have been able to call a team to come start a picc-line after determining his veins were no good. We don't have that option here. There's no one to fall back on. You do all that you can (in an out-patient clinic) and if that's not enough you send them to a hospital. But there's no guarantee the hospital will even admit him because he could be too sick or not sick enough. How do you even get him there if he can barely walk? Katherine said that if she had known the doctor was planning on sending him to a hospital (which he was), she would have pushed for sending him hours sooner than they did because his veins were impossible long before he walked through the door. They could have saved the time and supplies.

Sometimes the pieces here don't fit together perfectly. Everywhere you look there are ways that systems can function more efficiently. Communication could be better. Cultures could understand each other more. Situations could be handled differently. As one small person in the mix of all this, it can be overwhelming. With the mission to help restore brokenness in the forefront, setbacks are simply discouraging. I think that it's obstacles like these that make people question the sovereignty and faithfulness of the Lord. But I also think that He can handle that. He understands how it looks from our point of view, and He probably appreciates when we're honest about our doubt. Through it all, He asks us to fix our eyes on Him and trust in His goodness.

On our last day of mobile clinics we ventured up to Fond Cheval, a Shire-like village tucked away into a mountain peak where the breeze is cool and trees grow tall. This place was just different. Footpaths were steep within the rich volume of the mountain land. Little homes were nestled cozily amongst the lush greenery where children played, their families working and visiting with each other.  Some toiled diligently in their gardens, others laid beneath the shade to rest. A small structure stood nearby that I learned was the village's church. There was just something about the wonder of it all that enchanted my spirit, perhaps because I'd never been there before, or simply that it varied from the climate of Chambrun, but it spoke to me -- in a different way than desert speaks. It was as if my soul was invited to lay down and drink.



We set everything up beneath the outstretched branches of one magnificent tree. Patients needing to see a doctor stood in a line that weaved all around the tree and waited patiently for their turn. Before we began, the whole team gathered to pray, and it was then that it hit me. How fortunate I was to be surrounded by the beauty of God's people and creation serving in a way that brings my heart to life. Oh, Adventure! I will never forget that special day.

Sometimes the Lord calls us to a desert, sometimes he calls us to a mountain top. In all times He is faithful. In all times He is good.

The Day of Trouble

The following post refers to the events that took place this past Saturday, June 22nd.

Abby, Chris and I were sitting in the dining hall after a late lunch on Saturday when Aubree, one of our nurses, flew through the door exlaiming, "There's a fire in the warehouse. We need your help." In my mind I didn't jump to any major concerns. I assumed it was something minimal and easily handled. We followed anyways in case we were needed.

We passed the apartments and informed a few others of the news. Gradually the word spread across campus and it seemed like everyone was sprinting to the north side of the compound all at once. It occurred to me that maybe this was more serious than I thought.

Sure enough, one of the containers in the roof of the mechanic's bay was in flames. Uncertain of where to start or what to think, I fumbled in circles as people spun around me with their own responses. Then Aubree handed me her cell phone and told me to keep calling Brandon, one of our staff members, until he answered. She vanished into the growing clouds of smoke, so I started calling. After three or four times a voice came over the line. "Brandon, there's a fire in the warehouse!" I blurted. With a steady voice he asked a few questions and said they'd be back soon from Onaville. I returned the phone to Aubree so they could speak and gazed up at the burning structure. What was burning was at the very top, up maybe two or three stories, and spreading. How in the world are we going to put this out?

Aubree then told me to retrieve as many buckets as I could and fill them with water. "Where would those be?" I asked. "Anywhere. Just look anywhere." I took off running and decided to search the clinic. No buckets could be found but I knew we had trashcans, so I dumped several out and dragged them to the campus well. One by one I tried to fill them by lifting them over the five foot cement wall that enclosed the water when I realized it was too heavy. A few young Haitian women started to help me. We managed to understand each other enough to carry the water over to the warehouse in tandem. What is this going to do? I worried. We need way more water and we need it UP THERE...but how?...At this rate we'll never get anywhere...

But what options did we have? This is Haiti. You put out your own fires here. You beg the Lord to help you. You pray like you've never prayed before for rain to unleash.


Someone figured out that hundreds of crocs (the rubber shoes) had caught on fire inside the container. That particular section had been storing these donated crocs for who knows how long now, and consequently their poisonous fumes were releasing into the wind. If inhaled, there's potential for lung damage. Aubree instructed me to locate our inventory of blue N90 protective face masks in the clinic and pass them out to as many people as I could, particularly the ones closest to the smoke. So once again I ran to the clinic. We only had one N90 mask left, and the rest were just the basic filtered masks that barely keep paint fumes at bay. I brought them anyways.

We passed them out and started pushing everyone back a safer distance. Somewhere inside the warehouse were batteries, as well as shot gun rounds, both explosive if exposed to flames. Minute by minute the situation evolved, growing in me a deeper fear for everyone's safety. We were still without a solution, and more than ever it was clear that God was our only hope. Soon the team arrived from Onaville and jumped into action. Nearby villagers began to gather in awe of the spectacle. A handful of men were attempting to spray the fire with a power washer, but someone had already shut off the generator. Options were dwindling.

With our limited ability to offer further help, some of us stood frozen as we surveyed what billowed before us. Our hearts were breaking. The smouldering structure represented the combustion of weeks of labor and effort. This threat to a piece of Nehemiah's campus felt like a threat to our very purpose. Some considered its potential to be a spiritual attack -- an assualt against what is believed to be a small piece of God's kingdom, for He is definitely at work in this place. It makes sense that evil would endeavor to counteract. In desperation, a handful of us decided to pray. At first, we couldn't find words. Shortly we realized our conversation with God could be simple. God, please help us! We need You completely. We need Your intervention, we need Your protection.

Some of us then piled into a truck to collect drinking water for everyone when all of a sudden, we heard a siren. The next thing we knew, a full-fledged firetruck came barreling around the corner onto the compound toward the warehouse. A dozen firemen fully suited and armed with fire hoses bounced out and took action. Firemen? In Haiti? Unusual. Rare. Immediately responding to our aid? On a Saturday? Unheard of. It was the work of God. He was there.

We set up water stations around the edge of campus, about 100 yards from the warehouse where the firetruck was parked. After some time they ran out of gasoline and water, so the firemen moved the truck back along the fence. Just behind runs a small creek that has mostly been dry for the past month. Today there was water, and the new plan was to utilize it. The only way to do this was if people jumped the fence, scaled down the steep incline of the creek bank and assembled buckets of the water to then pass back over to the firemen. Haitians and Americans joined in this together, lifting one by one. Just when there was a sufficient volume inside the truck tank, they realized the water pump was just beyond reach of the connecting hose. The water spilled everywhere, sweeping in waves across the dirt as the solid ground transformed into mud, creating yet another obstacle. After moving the truck again, the hoses connected and the water was sent on its way.

At one point the door of the container was opened, perhaps to allow for a better visual of the fire. As a result, the new flow of oxygen fed the flames and it grew. Ideas were targeting the commander like missiles from every which way, but he had one of his own. He requested for someone to fetch laundry detergent. The fire was oil based. Soapy water had the potential to be more effective. Brandon and Austin sped off across campus and toted the largest supply they could find, weighing 30 pounds, back to the warehouse (an estimated four acre distance) while sprinting.

Drawing closer to the perimeter, Abby and I saw that the nurses were tending to a particular fireman. He was laying, his back flat against the ground. They brought him to shade and told us to grab advil and an icepack from the clinic. He suffered from a hit to the head by pieces of debris while inside the warehouse chamber. This, combined with the heat and heavy smoke apparently led him to pass out momentarily. After offering him cups of water, he recovered strength. We could think of nothing more than simply sitting beside him as we waited.

Time passed, clouds rolled in and out, but the rain never came. Eventually, there was nothing left for us to do. The firemen were handling everything and we were encouraged to retreat to the dining hall and eat. Soon after the fire had finally been smothered. No one else was hurt. The emergency was over.

Later that evening Pastor Pierre gathered everyone to debrief. "Fires happen," he said. "They happen everywhere, and we can never guarantee ourselves that we won't face circumstances like these." He went on to say that, ultimately, today was a victory. No one was seriously hurt. There was limited damage and all that we lost were crocs that we needed to get rid of anyways. God was faithful and had a hand in everything that transpired. Pastor Pierre was so proud of how the staff responded to the situation. He shared that shortly after arriving to the fire, he had enough confidence to leave in order to attend his prior commitment with a youth group. "I knew that you, as a group, were capable of handling the situation just as well or better than I could have, and that I wasn't needed. I had peace about trusting this team and trusting our Lord."

He told us, "We are learning." Just days before the fire, teams prayed over each building on campus as they walked from one to the other. They didn't pray over the warehouse, they admitted with a laugh. We are learning.

When I remember our period of total reliance on the Lord that day, when we had nothing but the prayers on our lips, I remember asking that nothing negative would result from this catastrophe -- that somehow, by the grace of God, it would only be used for His glory. I think it's fair to say that He met me there. He showed himself in every transpiring event; in every piece. Nehemiah was not broken. Evil had no place, no hand in any part. Yes, the fire was still a loss. God allows us to experience all kinds of challenges in this life.

"I have told you these things, so that in me you may have peace. In this world you will have trouble. But take heart! I have overcome the world." John 33:16 NIV

In our King Jesus, we have found peace here at Nehemiah. He is good -- and we are only beginning to understand what it means to be grateful for and depend on His goodness. 

A Joyful Chaos

On Friday night the Haitians held an all-night worship service. Like, all night. Leading up to it, Linds, Abs and I were talking big like we'd last the whole time and then catch a wink on the roof beneath the stars, you know, finish with a bang seeing that it was Lindsey's last night with us. By Friday night, we showed up to the church and realized our endurance was fading fast, and all epic plans fizzled out. But for the time that we stayed, I was completely blown away. I want you guys to grasp the magnitude of the beauty I saw, which I'm not sure can happen. I'm actually positive that I can't depict it accurately in its entirety. But I'll try to share a glimpse.

The majority of Haitians that attend anything here at NVM have to walk. Depending on where their home is and in which village, it could be miles. Many families are large ones, meaning there's quite a handful of children. They brought them along on foot, in the dark, across thorny, rocky terrain to worship in the presence of the living God late into the early morning light. Some even carried blankets along with so the children could still go to bed, just on the floor of the church instead. And somehow, some way, the children slept -- in the middle of the joyful chaos.

So it's hot here, even at night, but it made no difference to anyone. And when the music is upbeat, it is UP BEAT. Party time. (Also work-out time, up goes the heart rate) It honestly reminded me of a wedding reception because everyone was dancing around -- down the aisles back and forth, children and adults alike grabbing hands and swinging each other around, clapping, smiling, laughing, GROOVING, all with a simultaneous spirit of worship. It was one of the most joyful settings I've ever experienced. I had to join them. We danced away like it was a celebration, or rather, because it was a celebration. Jesus is real, he lives, and he is victorious forever, a truth worth dancing about!

When the music slows down, the passion doesn't dwindle but rather transforms into a different picture. To me, these songs reveal the tenderness, the intimacy of complete dependency on the Lord -- something I think these people might understand better than I do. At one point, two out of the three vocalist worship leaders on stage were kneeling, still singing into their handheld microphones, their long-sleeved button-downs drenched. I looked across the room and saw a young boy, maybe twelve or thirteen sitting along the wall with his hands in the air, eyes tightly shut, singing every word of the song. Moments later, he was also on his knees. A thirteen year old boy. Sitting on one of the long benches I listened and whispered my own prayers as another young woman I'd never met sprawled out close beside me, when I noticed her head gently resting against my hip. I smiled because she had plenty of room to lay there in her own space, but she didn't. It was as if, with the smallest touch, she wanted the comfort of another worshiper as she closed her eyes to regain strength -- just to feel someone with her.

Walking home to call it a night Abby and I whispered to each other about how powerful that was. How, in one way it was a foreign experience and in another, it seemed familiar, as if we knew it. But not cognitively, not in any memory. Rather, within our spirits, within our souls. We knew it. It was a taste of heaven. The place we don't yet understand and yet seem to recognize when we bump into it here on earth. Wild, abandoned, free-as-can-be worship of the King with friends, family, neighbors and strangers alike. This is what we were made for. This is what we were created to do. I went to sleep astonished at how a piece of eternity can exist in such a place of darkness, of poverty, of brokenness. God's kingdom is real, and it's here, and it's making its moves on people.

I am learning...

A posture of surrender, a heart of worship is worth the sometimes grueling, journey it takes to get there.

While the creator of the universe deserves our praise to the point of complete exhaustion, He is gracious and gentle. He invites His children to lay down and rest, sometimes in the center of a beautiful mess, a joyful chaos where His presence is found. He is glorified by both.

God wants everyone. He wants the hearts of teenagers. He knows how to win the stubborn, the naive, the immature and insecure. He is calling them to be leaders, to be lovers of His son, and there is hope for those who may not be listening yet because there are those that are. 

There is beauty found in the company of another heart broken for Jesus, and sometimes we need the reminder, "I'm still here. I'm with you, and beside me is a safe place to rest."

Church

First and foremost, Happy Father's Day, Papa! Wish I could be home with you today. Thinking of you and sending my love.

I just wanted to mention a little bit about church today. Roughly 300 people from around the area show up to NVM's Sunday services and it was exciting to find myself among them this morning. One thing I adore about these people is their expressive and enthusiastic worship. Children to elderly adults were lifting their hands and rocking the step-touches, lifting their voices with a powerful volume. We even sang "The Power of Your Love" by Darlene Zschech translated to Creole or French (not quite sure which) which was pretty wild. Jam-packed into one of the rows I was handed a sleeping baby that must have only been a few months old. He snoozed the entire two hours but I noticed a pattern of grimacing facial expressions that led me to suspect he was working hard at something...

I was really touched by the service overall, mostly by the worship. Several times I found myself fighting back tears without being sure of why. My heart, already tender towards the people of this country, is so full. There's just something so right, so heaven-like about their unanimous expression of praise. Their authenticity was so tangible in that room, more palpable than the hot, heavy air.

Another interesting aspect was the youth brigade. I'm not entirely sure what this group is beyond the fact that it's similar to Boy/Girl Scouts. It's an organized program of kids/teens here in Haiti that learn leadership skills. Dressed in crisp blue uniforms they even march and display hand signals to each other before speaking. They take church pretty seriously in that one of their roles during the sermon was actually to make their way around and tap on the shoulders of members (mostly kids) that were slouching in their seats on the verge of taking a lil snooze.

Towards the end of the service Pastor Pierre called out the names of the four newest interns and requested our presence on the stage. He introduced us and we briefly mentioned our purpose here in Haiti. To carry out a tradition here at NVM, he then asked if we'd like to sing a song for the Lord before the congregation. (Fortunately we were prepared for this ahead of time!) So the four of us belted out, "I've got the joy, joy, joy, joy, down in my heart" but in Creole! Which took a little practice, yes, but I think they liked it. Needless to say we were graciously welcomed by everyone.

After more worship we were eventually dismissed and everyone gushed out the door in one solid mob of bodies. I couldn't help but chuckle as little hands gently shoved me from behind as if the custom was simply to exit with the utmost urgency, like a herd of sheep. For a service lasting over two hours that suggests a no-hurry attitude, we sure got out of there fast! Hahaha, then again, maybe that was why.

The Learning Process

Let's just say I'm excited that I get to be here for eight weeks. From my first step onto Nehemiah's campus I've felt welcome, and I attribute that to the people here, both Haitians and Americans. From what I've gathered so far, it seems that the operations of this place are founded on a love for Jesus Christ. Everything stems from that. Our team coordinator makes a point to gather us in prayer each morning to ask God for His direction, to focus ourselves on the true purpose behind all that takes place here. I think this is crucial.

I've had the delight of living and working closely with two precious young ladies here, Lindsey and Abby. The three of us share in the joys of being nursing majors, allowing for the opportunity to be medical interns here at the NVM clinic. I'm sure it's because we're adventuring together in a country foreign to us, but it's crazy how comfortable I am around them. Especially after only two days. I love it, and I love experiencing life here alongside them.

Thursday and Friday were my first two days in the clinic. I stayed close to Lindsey most of the time as I watched how things operated. People from surrounding villages come early in the morning (on foot) to seek medical care. They receive a number and wait for their name to be called. Us interns take some basic vital signs and record them on their chart. When we finish we tell them to "take a seat outside" and wait for the doctor to see them. I can already confirm that this particular phrase is one I'll use a lot. "Ou mait sheeta deo." One of the first times I tried saying it I blanked halfway through and kind of just stared at the poor girl. She finished my sentence though and smiled. Hahahaha.

Once we triage everyone (the vital signs), the interns transition to the pharmacy section of the clinic. Once the first patient has seen the doctor and been given prescriptions, they bring their chart with the doctor's orders to us we tell them to sit again (lots of waiting for these patients) and we gather their meds. Based on the patient's age and weight, each medication's instructions and what the doctor wrote, we determine the dosage. When we're ready, we call them up to the window and explain to them what each medicine they'll take home is for and how often/long to take it. For me, this is the biggest challenge because I don't know Creole yet, haha! It's incredible watching Lindsey and Abby because they can do this part, and they do it well. They can even explain (in Creole) that if they don't have a fever or pain, they don't have to take their Tylenol that day. The entire first day I observed them communicate like this I was blown away, not to mention a little freaked out considering I am going to take on the same job.

What's been good, though, is that no one expects me to be at that level yet, by any means, and everyone in the clinic has done a good job at affirming me in this. Lindsey has been here for about a month now, so she's had some time to develop her skills, while Abby has also been here three weeks. The most pressure I feel to get the hang of all this comes from myself, being somewhat of a perfectionist. I want to be good at my job right off the bat, but I have to work hard at being patient with myself and okay with not being good at really anything yet. Hahaha. I laugh because this is stupidly hard for me. There's no room for pride here so I'm learning to humble myself and commit to the learning process. Not one of my favorite things, but I trust it.

Chapter One

First of all, hey family and friends! Thanks for taking the time to check this out. For those of you who'd like to keep updated with what this adventure here in Haiti is like for me, hopefully this will serve that purpose.

Today is only my second day here in this beautiful country, but I feel like I've been here for a long time, even though everything is still so very new. I don't know why that is, maybe because I've been able to experience so much already.

I will write more soon, but I actually have to go eat dinner now! Miss you guys and I send my love!