Remembering Natalie

22 year old Natalie was too proud to come ask me for help. Unlike most people in the village she did not want to ask for a handout. Although she was young, she had become a leader among the women living down by the river doing whatever it took to get food to feed her two kids. But then when her father, a fisherman and leader in the community, died unexpectedly, she sought help and we were there. We were able to help her rent a house with a couple of the other women in our program and she started working in the feeding program preparing food for the elderly. Her little frame betrayed the size of her spunk. Her big smile and forthright nature endeared her to all of the Americans who came to visit. She was ambitious and constantly wanting to meet to talk about possible ways for her to provide for her family. She became the spokes person for the ladies group and often confronted me when they felt there was a problem. I had much time with her to share the truth of the gospel and her need for Jesus. We had a good relationship. As other programs began to pull me away from spending everyday in the fish village, God sent Kelsea, an intern from Colorado, who took over much of the work with the women. She became close friends with Natalie and kept me updated on things in the program. We were eventually able to start a house for Natalie and her family. But then she began to be sick. She missed many days of working. Many trips to the local government hospital did nothing to help her ailing condition. Then she started refusing to go back to the hospital and started losing weight. Against the prodding of friends she refused to go for AIDS testing. By the time she finally did, she was down to a shocking 67 pounds and barely able to walk. The tests came back positive and treatment was started but it was too late. She was dying. As we were visiting her the last time before our trip to the US, Joy and I were heart broken. She was lying on a mat on her little concrete porch. As we shooed away the flies she just smiled up at me and held my hand as tight as she could as we prayed with her and talked. She smiled as we told her we would bring her back a treat from America, all the time knowing she would never hold out that long. Just a week after we arrived home in late June she passed away. I pray she truly understand the commitment she made to Jesus and repented and gave her life to him. We pray her death will soften the hard hearts of the other ladies in the group and they will receive the gift of life. Natalie's two orphans tested HIV positive as well and we are working to figure out their future. Can there be a more "least of these" than an AIDS orphan in a slum of Haiti?

Cocobe' (Co-co'-bay)

Cocobe' in Haiti is the word given to anyone who is crippled or handicapped.  It is a word of contempt in most cases lacking any connotation of compassion.  In a culture where resources are so limited and life is already so fragile, very little compassion is reserved for those that are viewed as a waste of resources.  Why use up food, time, energy, and resources for a life that is not going to make any difference?  Even good intentioned, moral people have this mindset most of the time.  But Kevin was able to break down that wall in many of the lives he encountered in his short time here.

We were given Kevin as a last resort after he lost his mom in the Earthquake in January 2010.  He came to live with us in August and he brought much joy and  readjustment of priorities into our lives.  The lady that found him after the earthquake could not care for him and he weighed just 13 pounds at age 3 when we got him.  He had severe cerebral palsy and could not do anything for himself, but he had a smile that beamed and melted hearts.

Kevin managed to win over the hearts of all of our Haitian staff as well as any visiting missionaries that came to visit.  He would just hang there on my arm and smile ear to ear as we would go about our work around the mission.  I understand more than ever that every life is precious.  Every person is a perfectly planned out piece in the mechanism of God's creation.  Even though Kevin passed away today, I know his life made a difference.  I know it did for a fact because it made a difference in me.

I have never felt like I could care for a special needs child.  I never thought I had the patience or compassion. But I learned that God loves to use the least likely of techniques to change the things in us that need changing. As I helped build a coffin today to hold my little buddy and then washed and arranged his body before Joy and I dressed him for his burial, I could sense in my heart that God had done a work in me to help me love in a broader way and appreciate the sacredness of this fragile life we are given.

We buried Kevin today just 3 weeks after burying little Callie.  It has only been 2 months since Daphne died in my arms in the same hospital where Kevin died.  It is strange how death has such a profound affect on our view of life.

Joy reminded me as we were acting as funeral directors and dressing Kevin for his funeral, that children are a "gift" from the Lord.  When we got Kevin he did not have a name.  They never named him because his life did not seem to have a reason.  But I praise God for the "gift" He gave us in little Kevin.  I praise Him because it helps me appreciate the "gift" of all of our other kids- both Haitian and American.  I pray that I never get to where I can let another day go by without TRULY cherishing my family and friends and the ones God has given us to minister to.  Most of our lives are not as short as Kevin's but one day we will be just as gone as he is right now.  I am reading a book right now that I recommend called "Outlive Your Life" by Max Lucado.  I pray I can outlive my life in such a way that somewhere, in some way, some one can say that God used me to change something in them the same way that God used Kevin to change something in me.