I’ve seen a lot of beautiful things this winter. I was able to spend some time in Minnesota with family, and while I hate shivering, there is a quiet still beauty in the frozen snowy scenery.

I’ve seen the beauty that is Haitian winter, with its warm days and temperate nights, wrapped up perfectly in soft ocean breezes.

There is beauty in the contrast in both places, relief from the heat; reprieve from the cold. No matter where I travel though, the most beautiful things I’ve experienced have been human: compassion, generosity, sacrifice, love. I suppose those things are also in contrast. They are in contrast with human instinct at times, and the beauty is in watching people be Jesus to each other.

For instance, a friend of mine passed away on New Year’s Eve. He was a man in our elder program, who left behind a six year old daughter. I’ve watched in awe as the contrast of the grief and sadness has been met by a church community in Cite Soleil caring for this girl as their own. They have made sure she stayed fed and in school and offered her their own homes without hesitation as we sort out a permanent solution for her. It’s both heartbreaking and beautiful.

I’ve spent a lot of time over the past weeks with our short term missionary teams. It’s good to witness as individuals push through their own nervousness to serve and connect. And it is a privilege to experience their observations and questions.

Since I haven’t blogged in way too long, let me just toss some random shots at you as a photo journal of sorts:

Backing way up to Christmas Eve and this adorable nativity of my nieces and nephews (and one brother).

World’s best grandparents. Aside from my own… lol (They are my mom and dad btw.)

Speaking of contrast… hot tubbing in Roseau, MN!

Edmund was very sick this particular day, but his face lit up and his mind was calmed when this woman decided to cuddle him regardless.

My Haitian kitty… who has grown accustomed to the finer things in life…

Time serving with a team from SVCC.

Serving and shopping with the parent/child team led by Marni and Sara!

I’m just one of the kids! Haha, we are watching a team put on a skit at one of our partner ministry’s orphanage.

I loved the opportunity to serve on a parent/child team! I spent 6 days with 6 moms and 10 kids between the ages of 10-15. I absolutely loved this group of kiddos and experiencing Haiti with them!

Just a mountain selfie in Kenskoff…

Young women of the team perfecting their jump photo.

Serving in Titanyen with the Woodridge team!

Adorable little girl at the feeding center in Titanyen…

Adorable AND hilarious! 🤣🤣🤣

Leadership in town praying over our Grace Church pastors.

One of our littlest (and most photogenic) EKS members.

James 1:27

Religion that God our Father accepts as pure and faultless is this: to look after orphans and widows in their distress and to keep oneself from being polluted by the world.

The hustle and bustle of Christmas isn’t exclusively an American thing. In Haiti, December is a month of celebrations. It’s a time to celebrate with family and friends, have weddings, eat special meals, attend church gatherings. Haiti is breathing a sigh of relief and celebration right now.

It’s unrealistic to assume the unrest is truly resolved, but these past couple weeks have been peaceful. And we are grateful for that here.

This past week, we had an incredible group of people come to serve on a Healing Haiti missions trip. Their focus was serving the elders, and together we hosted two Christmas celebrations, one for our elders in Titanyen and another for our elders in Cite Soleil.

Last night, our EKS group gathered for a Christmas celebration, complete with singing, dancing, and delicious food from Fleri!

Three parties in four days. I’m exhausted but in a good way. I’ve witnessed so much joy this week, I don’t even know how to describe it.

People who have suffered greatly in their lives, throwing their hands up in worship. Elders who need assistance to walk insisting on joining the conga line anyway. Church members who live a daily food crisis and know the threat of gang violence quite personally, not only eating with gratitude, but slipping leftovers off their plates into their napkins to take home and share. Those members also inviting in children who are peeking through the open restaurant door to finish their sodas and saving some of the chicken on their own plates for them.

If you want to spread some Christmas love in Haiti this season and share a hot meal or a plate of cookies, Fleri can do that on your behalf!

If you are interested in donating the money to make that happen, contact Jake Stebbing directly or via “Fleri Resto” facebook messenger. There are many people in our neighborhood who would be blessed by a special Christmas meal or cookies this time of year. You can choose to bless Grace Village staff, kids, mommies, one of our local churches, school kids, Fleri staff, Fleri farm staff, or many other neighborhood groups.

“For to us a child is born, to us a son is given, and the government will be on his shoulders. And he will be called Wonderful Counselor, Mighty God, Everlasting Father, Prince of Peace.”

Isaiah 9:6

 

 

I can’t fix your situation. I can’t give you what you need. I can’t give you a job. I can’t take your baby. I can’t.

“Mwen pa kapab”. “I can’t”. It’s an important Haitian Creole phrase to know as an American. My white skin is symbolic of affluence. My white skin means that anyone can and will ask me for things.

Friends and people who know me don’t. They know I’m not actually rich. But, strangers on the street ask.

They correctly assume that I have access to more resources than they do because I am American. So, they ask. Give me your sandals. Give me your phone. Give me some food. Give me some money. I can’t.

I’m used to that kind of “I can’t” by now.

But I’m learning about a new level of I can’t.

I can’t take any more bad news. I can’t watch as children are kept out of school and workers are kept from their jobs and elders die and police and gangs fight for control and families suffer and fear clears people from the streets. I can’t.

And in my inability to fix any of it – In my inability to process it – In my inability to accept or even look at it somedays, I am learning. It’s ok, even good, that I can’t.

It limits my striving. It turns my attention to the only One who can. When I say “I can’t” the Lord says “good.” He waits patiently for me to acknowledge that “I can’t”.

It isn’t that I have license to ignore the injustice around me. It isn’t that I have no responsibility to do what I can do. It’s that the Lord is still present in all I can’t do.

And, I’m learning about giving away too much. I’m asked for all kinds of resources, not just stuff and money. I’m asked for time and favors and lots of both. I’m asked for prayers and lots of those too.

When a Haitian asks me where I’m going and I say to church, the knee-jerk response is “Priye pou mwen!”. “Pray for me!”. And I usually say yes. And then I remember them in a prayer.

I had realization recently that I was starting to resent being asked to pray for others all the time. As though prayer was a limited resource, I was annoyed that other people kept demanding mine.

Now I know that the Lord’s answers to prayer are unlimited, but the time I devote to those sacred conversations is sometimes limited. And I can’t always share that sacred time with every person who has asked for a piece of it. I don’t always remember each person who’s asked.

It makes me appreciate even more the people who pray for me. It isn’t an empty gesture. It is a sacrifice of their time and emotion and thought. It is being included in their most sacred time and relationship. And the God of all I can’t do responds to those prayers.

So I am doing my best to focus on what I can do. Instead of being overwhelmed by the things I can’t do, I’m leaving those things up to the God who can. In my weakness, I find His strength. In my can’t, I find His can.

 

You know the feeling when you’re going through something difficult and there is nothing in your control that can change it?

Maybe you lost a friend or a job. Maybe someone hurt you or a family member. Maybe you were sick or discouraged or depressed. Maybe you couldn’t afford what your family needed. Maybe you couldn’t even picture the change you hoped to see.

Maybe people started offering advice or telling you about something worse they experienced to make you feel a little less validated in your own experience?

Hopefully when you’ve been there, you had at least one friend who bought you a cup of coffee and listened simply to make you feel heard and less alone. I hope they prayed for you and reminded you that God sees you where you are.

Haiti needs those kinds of friends right now. Her people are hurting and mourning the way they wanted their current reality to look.

I know I’m not here to fix it. I can’t. But I can pour some coffee. I can listen and ask questions. I can pray because God holds all we can’t control dear to his heart.

I finished re-reading Kent Annan’s book “Slow Kingdom Coming” last week. One quote stuck out to me, especially as I’ve been fielding lots of questions about the situation in Haiti right now. “From a distance it’s hard to know the truth on the ground. (It’s sometimes hard up close too.)”

The international media hasn’t done justice to the current crisis in Haiti, simplifying and overlooking a complicated matter and sharing exploitative and misleading photos. The reality I’ve experienced is a string of heartbreaking stories and volatility on the streets. The reality is uncertainty each day and people desperate for change.

But amidst the constant unknowns, the Haitian people I know are strong. They are survivors faced again with hardships to survive.

I’ve been blessed to be out and about more than most people here. I’ve been able to see the elders in Cite Soleil most days. Because of Healing Haiti’s staff, I’ve been safely transported between Titanyen and Port Au Prince three times this week.

I’ve been able to hug children and kiss elders and let my friends know that I’m here with them in whatever capacity I can be.

And I’ve been blessed many times in the past several weeks by missionaries and staff members who’ve traveled here from the US to do the same. The encouragement of their presence is a tangible thing that I believe the Haitians around me have felt too.

I’ve felt encouraged, even as I sit in my own reactions to it all. Even as I see suffering that I can’t ease and let myself be burdened by some of the weight of all that has happened here, I am blessed by Haitian coworkers who let me know that they’re here with me too.

I know that many people who read my blog may not have a personal connection to Haiti. But please pray for the people here.

And then do the sacred coffee pouring in your own life by being available to your own friends who are hurting. And let others bless you and pour your coffee. It’s all part of being the body of Christ.

“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 16:33

So, are things back to normal yet? I hear this question a lot living in Haiti. Because I got to go to work today? Because some of the roads are unblocked? Because we got a delivery of diesel and water? Because the school was open for a few days?

It’s impossible to say what normal is. However, it’s been almost two months since I’ve slept in my own apartment. Some of that time has been by choice and other times due to necessity; but travel between Port Au Prince and Titanyen has not been an option for most of that stretch of time.

We have elders with urgent medical needs and a limited capacity to meet them. We live life one day at a time, a half-day at a time, an hour at a time, knowing circumstances can change in an instant.

Things are tough here, and I want to be honest about that. The protests have brought adversity to an already vulnerable population. When the roads are blocked, people can’t get to the market to buy food, the market may or may not be open, and people can’t get to work to make the money they need to buy that food anyway. Prices keep climbing higher as the value of the currency slips lower.

Many people cannot find or afford fuel. When people get sick, there may not be doctors available to treat them. People have been dying preventable deaths because of the inaccessibility of hospital care. There are burning tires and violence in the streets. There is desperation. People are incredibly sad for their own country.

A Haitian friend of mine messaged me one night to let me know they hadn’t been able to have a church meeting due to riots in the area. He usually either translates those meetings for me or takes notes to send me afterward. I replied that I was sad about the riots but praying for their community. His answer caught me off-guard.

“Don’t be sad, because God is good all the time.”

In times like these, it is easy to look at circumstances and feel despair. Still, God has not changed. He is good. Situations do not dictate his goodness.

So, things are tough in Haiti. But, God is so good!

 

As an additional note, we do have short-term teams here with us again. We are serving when and where we can, keeping a close travel radius to the guesthouse. Our staff who can get here safely are happy to be back full-time, and the children in Cite Soleil have been especially thrilled to see teams again!

I’m still eager to get back to Titanyen, but I’m accepting each day that I can only do what I can do, serving where I can and trusting God with all I can’t do. Our staff in Titanyen and Cite Soleil have been doing an amazing job checking in with all the elders we serve and getting them food and medical attention as much as possible.

Please keep Haiti in your prayers.

 

“And so we know and rely on the love God has for us. God is love. Whoever lives in love lives in God, and God in them.” 1 John 4:16

 

We had a strange but wonderful week this past week here in Haiti. Two teams did arrive safely Monday morning, and we were able to go out and serve together some days. We never traveled far from the guesthouse.

I was able to visit my apartment for about 10 minutes on Thursday, drop off a few items, pick up clean underwear, and hug a few friends. But, I elected to stay in Port Au Prince a few more days.

The reality of Haiti today, and over the past several weeks, and really over the year I have lived here is an experience of constant uncertainty. Roads might be fine, or they might be blocked. I can wander and shop freely, or I must stay inside the gates. Protests are scheduled, but nothing happens. Nothing is scheduled, and there are reports of violence.

It is common for phrases in Haitian Creole to be completed with “gras ak Jezi”, basically meaning by God’s grace. I am good by God’s grace. I will be there by God’s grace. I will see you tomorrow by God’s grace. The uncertainty of situations makes us lean more into that grace.

My coworker and fellow missionary, Alicia, has expressed well a gratitude that we are able to experience a bit of the frustration that the Haitian people live under. Because of this experience, we are able to identify in some small way with their pain and struggle.

We also want to get back to work. We also hate seeing children kept out of school week after week. We are fortunate to have food and supplies, and only slightly inconvenienced by not having access to whatever we want whenever we want it. We understand a privilege that most of our Haitian coworkers and friends do not have.

Yesterday morning, the roads were quiet, and I was able to attend church with the teams. Rendez-Vous Christ (RVC) is a large and growing church in Port Au Prince that hosts a beautiful blend of French, English, and Haitian Creole worship, with sermons translated in English via headset.

While giving announcements, Suzette Volcy, one of the pastors, made a point to speak directly to the English-speaking crowd. She spoke about the move of God happening in Haiti and how we, as foreigners, had been called there to be a witness to the nations of what God is doing. She also thanked the foreigners in the congregation for being there as an encouragement to the Haitian people.

All of that gave me goosebumps. And, I feel renewed purpose. I might not be here to do exactly what I expected to be doing here. I might be here for even bigger things. I might be here because God is doing a work and I get to be a witness to it. I might be here because my brothers and sisters need encouraging.

Regardless of why, I am here. I am not afraid. I have joy and peace being in Haiti today. I am excited to be with people I love and in the middle of a work only God can do.

“Before the mountains were born or you brought forth the whole world, from everlasting to everlasting you are God.” Psalms 90:2

One of my favorite weeks of the year was just last week, staying in Port Au Prince with the elder advisory team. It’s my second annual trip working with my stateside team, the first having been my first week in Haiti last fall, visiting elders and having planning meetings until we can’t think straight for another second. I hope to remain at least in some way involved with this team and their work for a long time to come.

One of the definite highlights of that week was using a “pocket talker” with some of our elders who are hard of hearing. It’s a portable microphone and headset that allowed us to communicate and worship together freely for the first time with a few of them!

Our schedule was quickly abandoned due to literal roadblocks and we spent our week circumventing problems and allowing God to direct each day. And, as we wrapped up what we could accomplish, we found gratitude in the unexpected extra time we had together. And, even though I never got to circle back to my own apartment for the luggage I was hoping to bring, I traveled back to the states late Thursday night for a 10-day furlough.

Over the past two weeks, the world has lost some wonderful and influential people. I am personally aware of two of them, and I will do my best to tell a bit of their stories without sharing identifying information. I believe that their stories belong to their families first.

We woke up one morning last week to the tragic news that a young woman from Hope Church had died overnight. She was a leader serving in multiple capacities in the church, and she had been fighting a serious medical condition. While it is impossible to go back and exhausting “What if’s” is pointless, I have to consider that if she had access to better medical care and earlier intervention, she might not have died.

I attended her church in Cite Soleil two days later, where the pastor spoke about her and God’s timing and the security of knowing you are saved. I watched as people of all ages made their way forward to follow her example of salvation, and I briefly thought that she would probably have happily forfeited her life to know it brought others to Christ. Would I?

Today, I attended another church service, this time in a suburb of Minneapolis, this time a funeral for a friend and former coworker. He also had survived a serious medical condition for years, and although he had access to great medical care, he had passed away suddenly in his own home. He was, without a doubt, one of the kindest men I knew, always eager to help anyone and everyone. We hadn’t had many conversations about faith, but it seemed to me that his was deep.

One of my fondest memories of him was the time he marched out to help one of our other coworkers jumpstart their car one snowy afternoon, admitting as he headed out the door that he had no idea how to do it. In the end, it took three CPAs to jumpstart that car, but he was going to be out there supporting, even if only armed with moral support. On one of my first trips to Haiti, he donated a stamp collection for me to sell and raise funding. His encouragement has always meant a lot to me.

Several individuals stood at the funeral and shared about how his life and faith had impacted them, and the pastor presented a simple salvation message. As I sat, surrounded by former officemates and even a couple of his clients, I was again struck by how influential a person’s death can be. His consistent example of service, kindness and faith will be his memorial. What will mine be? What will any of ours be?

It doesn’t matter where in the world a person lives. We are all visitors, trying our best to make a difference and find happiness with the time we are given.

I also spent time this past weekend in celebration! A good friend of mine married her best friend, and I was honored to be there for it. Amidst a lot of difficult news, it was wonderful to take a deep breath and appreciate the people I have.

I don’t know the best way to wrap up this particular blog. Pray for Haiti as protests continue. Pray for yourself and the impact your life is having. Pray for your friends who have lost loved ones because there are grieving people in your life every day whether or not they tell you. Hug a friend. Make a friend. Call your mom. Do whatever you know you need to do. Pray. And allow God to hear you. Allow God to direct you. And trust that you are an incredibly influential person. Use that influence to share Christ’s love.

Ecclesiastes 3:1-8

There is a time for everything,

and a season for every activity under the heavens:
a time to be born and a time to die,

a time to plant and a time to uproot,

a time to kill and a time to heal,

a time to tear down and a time to build,

a time to weep and a time to laugh,

a time to mourn and a time to dance,

a time to scatter stones and a time to gather them,

a time to embrace and a time to refrain from embracing,

a time to search and a time to give up,

a time to keep and a time to throw away,

a time to tear and a time to mend,

a time to be silent and a time to speak,

a time to love and a time to hate,

a time for war and a time for peace.

You can usually hear a funeral procession in Haiti before you see it. A small marching band leads the way, followed by the hearse and all the friends and family walking alongside, in front of and behind that.

Yesterday, I heard one of these processionals making their way up the main road in Titanyen toward a cemetery. The trumpets were playing the melody line of “Mansion Over the Hilltop” and I caught myself singing along.

I’ve seen poverty up-close in ways I never expected over the past several months. Those experiences have led me to think about the relationship between poverty and hope. It seems that unimaginable poverty either results in unimaginable despair or unimaginable hope. Or maybe a bit of both.

This seems strange to write, but I do think poverty lends itself to hope. It’s an advantage, in a way. When you come from a culture (USA) that prides itself on anyone being able to succeed, you learn that you can literally have anything you want. If you work hard enough and take the necessary risks, however immoral or unethical, required to get there, anything you want badly enough, you can have. Really, anything you don’t have is your own fault, in a generalized way of speaking.

That may be true for the elite here but not for most Haitians. The less you have here, the less you have. Less money, less opportunity, less education, less access to medical care, less chances of your lifestyle changing.

And in that, there is a resignation to one’s circumstances. There is resignation of your own ability to do anything about it. And there is resignation to hope, hope for changes in government, hope for hand-outs, and eternal hope that there is more to be lived for than this current life. In resignation of self-ability, God becomes the only real hope.

This past week, I visited the local women’s prison with some of the leaders of Grace Church. I didn’t know what to expect, but I think I expected it to feel maybe scarier. Instead, the inmates and guards joked with each other. The 200+ women who live there graciously received the care packages the church had made for them, and many of them scrambled to write notes for the pastor to take-requests for money, medical needs, and prayer requests.

There was a section of the facility that was exactly what movies prepared me for, cages where 1-3 women per cell stayed locked in with their beds, their personal belongings, buckets, and toilets. That was probably less than a quarter of the prison population. The rest were split between three enormous holding cells, giant rooms lined with bunk beds, personal belongings, clothes hanging to dry, buckets of water, and I even saw a television mounted on one of the walls. It was a busy, noisy place, but really it was just groups of women, going about their daily lives, locked in and separated from their families.

When we arrived in front of a holding cell, our pastor prayed a blessing over the group. The women would file out and line up to receive their care package, and after they had their bag of hygiene supplies in hand, they filed back into that cell.

I was introduced to one woman because she was a family member of one of the church leaders who was also there visiting. She had been accused of an unspecified crime, and has lived in that prison for three months, waiting to see the judge. This is an unfortunately common story here. A simple arrest can mean serious time, with or without a conviction.

From Grace Village, we have a clear view of the prison, just down the mountain from us. At night, now, when I can look down and see the electricity is out there, I can’t not think of the women locked into these big, dark holding cells. No fans running, no privacy, not knowing when they might get out, a stone’s throw from my world but a galaxy away.

I know a lot of Haitian people now. Many of them haven’t been given what I’d consider their fair share in life. Especially among the elders that I get to serve, many live in real poverty. Many live without their complete family. Most struggle to meet basic needs for food and shelter.

Loss of parents, loss of dignity, loss of income, loss of children, loss of life, loss of comfort, loss of freedom, loss of innocence… the list of things lost is long. But, one thing many have not lost is hope. And that is worth more than anything.

I’m not saying that the women sitting in the Titanyen prison tonight are just smiling and humming and thinking about how hopeful life is. I’m trying to say that hope is as available to them as it is to me, and probably more so than it is to those who’ve never had to rely on it.

Romans 5:1-5 “Therefore, since we have been justified through faith, we have peace with God through our Lord Jesus Christ, through whom we have gained access by faith into this grace in which we now stand. And we boast in the hope of the glory of God. Not only so, but we also glory in our sufferings, because we know that suffering produces perseverance; perseverance, character; and character, hope. And hope does not put us to shame, because God’s love has been poured out into our hearts through the Holy Spirit, who has been given to us.”

Friend’s new baby!

Some cute guys at church who wanted to play with my phone…

I mean, who wouldn’t want photos with me?

Unloading donations at the prison.

The farm dogs know who brings them the good stuff! (It’s Kenny.)

Meeting my newest favorite human. See you in three weeks, Marianna Rose!!!

Team serving elders in Cite Soleil. ❤️

August 23rd is an important date in my family’s history. My parents got married on this day in 1975, so even though I wouldn’t be part of the family for another decade, their choices and commitments on this day shaped my life in every way.

On this day, one year ago, I was already living out of suitcases, planning my move to Haiti. I was finishing my final weeks of office work, and couch-hopping, apartment-sitting, friend-mooching my way through the days of transition after selling my house and putting in my notice at work. I’d taken a couple days off of work to visit my sister and her family in their new home in Roseau, MN. As they were still moving in, we were all sleeping on the floor that week.

In the midst of the excitement and chaos, my dad had continued to get sicker. I was getting text messages from my mom on this day last year about how my dad’s skin was yellow and she was making him go back to the doctor and demand some tests. Then she started evading my questions and finally responded that she wanted to talk to my sister and I together.

So, on this day, one year ago, over a speaker phone call with my sister and brother in law, we found out my dad was diagnosed with chronic lymphocytic leukemia, a blood and bone marrow cancer that had gone undetected in his system for possibly three years already.

I’ve never been an appropriate emotions in the moment kind of girl, so I was a bit stunned, but my mind went immediately to how this would affect my plans. Could I still even go? Would I? All my ties had already been cut. I was effectively unemployed and homeless, plane ticket in hand.

But on some other random day, probably three years back, I sat at Grace Church, uncomfortable and a little bored, sweat pouring out of every inch of my skin, surrounded by worship in an unfamiliar language, and I told God that if He called me here, I’d come.

On another random day, maybe two years ago, at the home for sick and dying babies, I watched a friend patiently feeding a child with Down Syndrome, and God spoke clearly to me that He didn’t actually need me to take care of my family. He’d continue to take care of my brother if I wasn’t around for him.

On one random afternoon, maybe 29-30 years ago, I heard God’s still small voice for the first time that I can remember, as I sang out worship songs on our backyard swing set.

There have been many random days and moments throughout my childhood and adult life when I made good choices and when I didn’t. But none of those moments could have happened without two people committing their lives and future family to God on this day, 44 years ago.

On this day, one year ago, some bad news left me rattled. But, ultimately, I decided, with the support of many friends and family members and peace straight from God, to move forward with my plans and go to Haiti.

On this actual day, my dad is doing so good! He takes very powerful and expensive medication, but he has energy again and we aren’t collectively feeling the weight of a death sentence diagnosis anymore.

On this actual day, one of my sisters is expecting my newest niece to be born any moment. 😀

On this day, I am grateful.

“Therefore what God has joined together, let no one separate.” Mark 10:9

Oh, and because I should include a few pictures from my current life… there are some really random shots attached.

I hope that my blog can give a little insight into what it is like to live and work in missions. But, I only have my limited experience and I don’t even understand that. I can’t explain it to anyone because I can’t explain it to myself.

Everyday is a pro/con list of reasons I am sad and glad to be here. The pro side of the list includes things like getting to work in flip flops, experiencing another culture, occasional beach days, and tropical weather. The con side includes things like missing my family, forfeiting my independence, no Taco Bell, and tropical weather.

The pro list always trumps the con list though with one simple line item: Peace that I am being obedient to God’s direction. There is no point in finishing the list after that.

And I am finding so many unexpected pro’s along the way! Most of them are people.

I didn’t know moving here would connect me to a network of other young independent men and women from the US and Canada, all living in Haiti temporarily or permanently because they too felt the Holy Spirit guide them here. Though we come from diverse backgrounds, we are united in our pursuit of Jesus and in that shared experience of obedience to a call. They are my Bible Study friends, pizza-splitting companions, a link to familiarity, and wonderful humans in a general sense.

I have gotten closer to my Healing Haiti colleagues, both Americans and Haitians. To say our work arrangement is complicated is an understatement, for sure! We are a huge conglomerate of paid employees and volunteers from across the US and Haiti, all working remotely and sometimes together to keep the ministry healthy and moving forward. I am grateful for each of them.

I have been blessed to develop deeper friendships with some of  the members of EKS, our church volunteer group. They teach me about the culture here and share their dreams for Haiti and Titanyen.

I am honored by the elders I get to serve. When they ask me if I have children, I joke and say, I have a cat and many “ti granmoun”. That is basically saying little old men or little old ladies, but it is meant to be endearing, not condescending. It seems appropriate as several of them call me mama now.

Unfortunately for my cold heart, many of the children in Cite Soleil have weaseled their way into my affections. I cannot get enough of them, and I love seeing how their community is changing because of the work of the church there.

Many of the children who live at Grace Village have become very dear to me as well. I’m not supposed to pick favorites, but there are a select few that I feel as close to as if they were my own nieces/nephews. We still have communication barriers, but I would do anything I could for them.

I came here as a step of obedience, and I am continuing to take steps. I still have peace to be here, and I have peace that God will continue to provide.

I am back to fundraising as I have decided to stay on another year in Haiti. Many of you know that next year I’m hoping to spend about a third of the year in the states and two-thirds in Haiti, but I will continue to work with the elders and EKS.

I do need money to be able to do it, and I am here as a donor-sponsored volunteer. As of this coming October, I am sitting about $1,000 short of meeting my monthly budget. If you feel your steps being guided toward keeping mine moving, here is my donation link: http://donate.healinghaiti.org/sponsorships/support-katie-missionary

“The Lord makes firm the steps of the one who delights in him; though he may stumble, he will not fall, for the Lord upholds him with his hand.”

Psalms 37:23-24