Have you ever met a deer-goat?

Photographic proof of our Lovena miracle

Everyone is rejoicing in Lovena's return. From the women at the school who cried with grandma Paulette to the teachers at the Jubilee school, from the clinic staff to my friend JB who searched for Lovena on the DR border for two days, everyone has hugs and huge smiles for Lovena.

 

 

When the search team came back empty-handed, Chelda, Lovena's 9 year old aunt, walked into her classroom and proclaimed very sadly, "They didn't find her." The teacher suggested that the class pray for little Lovena, but before they could start, a student burst into tears. She was crying for Lovena. And one by one, these tough ghetto children all began to cry, until virtually the whole room was sitting on the floor, weeping for our lost little girl.

Over the three weeks that Lovena was gone, the school children prayed for Lovena's safety regularly and a few even had dreams that Lovena was home safe. I watched yesterday as school was dismissed and a crowd of neighborhood kids gathered around our prodigal daughter. She must be the most popular kid in Jubilee!

 

To every person who prayed for Lovena's safe return: thank you. Even when I'd lost almost all hope, I kept being encouraged by the constant messages and promises of prayer that I received from friends and strangers across the US and Europe. Thank you for being faithful!

 

She is so happy to be home and we are so happy to have her!

Lovena's home!!

I got the call on my way to clinic this morning: "Lovena's back!"

Her birthmom brought her home last night after 10pm. Grandma Paulette was too angry and relieved to ask any questions, so I don't know where Lovena was this whole time, but the whole neighborhood is rejoicing.

I am incredibly happy and incredibly grateful. Last night God and I argued about Lovena, about trying to trust Him despite everything. I wrote, "I don't know if I'm allowed to ask for this, but I could really use some tangible proof of Your love and goodness...very soon." I went to sleep and dreamt that Lovena was returned to me by my friend Lala. One hour later, I was walking to clinic when Lala called me with the good news. Perhaps you are skeptical about God, answered prayers, and dreams, but I cannot see this as anything but a very clear response from a very big God.

Lovena's home. God is good and God is loving. He would be good and loving even if she wasn't home, but I am deeply grateful that He gave me exactly what I asked for.

Reasons why

I always tell people that the beauty of Haiti is that though the lows are very low, the highs are very high. The tough times are tougher than anything I experienced in the US, but they are balanced by good times that are richer than what I usually experience in the US. So I've been waiting for something glorious to balance out the pain of Lovena's disappearance.

 

It hasn't come. 

 

I am still wallowing a bit in the emotional mud of her loss. I'm having a hard time seeing the good of being in Haiti, seeing the point of doing everything that I do. I've started an exercise of looking very deliberately for beauty and purpose because in my current state of mind, I am not going to see it without really hunting.

 

 

 

I was encouraged by this story from Jonas, one of my nursing assistant students. He saw a man collapse in the street. Everyone else backed away, talking about voodoo and evil spirits. Jonas, however, looked at the man's body and thought, "This looks like the symptoms of a stroke, just like Miss Keziah taught us this week." He pulled out the BP cuff I'd given him, checked the man and found his blood pressure a sky-rocket high 210/140. Thanks to Jonas, the man was taken to the hospital, instead of ignored on the street.  

 

 

Rudenchly, my little burn patient who had a first surgery in November to repair a burn contracture, (click here and here for his story) got his second surgery last week and is doing beautifully. He is walking around holding my hand and grinning his gigantic dimply grin. I am going to arrange physical therapy for him once his surgical site heals and this boy is going to learn to walk by himself!

 

 

Amoni, the man who had a terrible hand infection, (click here for his story) had his surgery in Port-au-Prince and is still coming for dressing changes every other day. His hand is healing very nicely and it is amazing to see someone who was so close to amputation and even death walking around nearly healthy.

 

 

And finally there's JB. He is roommates with Oscar, our favorite clinic nursing assistant, and I invited him to take my nursing assistant course, hoping that perhaps he would show some of the brains and, more importantly, the heart that Oscar has. I hit a jackpot in JB! He is one of my brightest students, first to answer questions and first to ask for deeper explanations. He has started spending his free time in clinic, helping us do dressing changes and learning from everything that we do.

 

 

I had prayed that we would find a replacement for Oscar in my newest class, and it looks like JB will be the one. We will be sad to see Oscar go to medical school, but I will be very proud to see JB step up and fill his shoes.

 

Those are the things that I'm trying to look at - the good things, the reasons why my presence in Haiti is not a mistake. My failure with Lovena doesn't have to define who I am. God has a plan and I don't agree with this particular part of it, but I'm willing to wait Him out and trust Him. Someday perhaps He will tell me His reasons for my presence in Haiti, His reasons for letting things turn out the way they do, and it will all make sense. In the meantime, I look for the good, and I wait.

"They didn't find her"

The search party couldn't find Lovena. It's a long story but the conclusion is simply that they didn't find her.

On my second ever post about Lovena, I wrote that "it is my goal to not lose my heart to the kids I work with in Haiti." This is why. I don't have words to describe the ache I feel over losing her in this fashion...the sense of responsibility...the anger over the brokenness of this world...the frustration at my inability to do anything about it...the ache...

It hurts.

 

Please pray for Lovena

 Lovena has disappeared.

 

 

 

In case you've forgotten, Lovena was abandoned by her teenage mom, became badly malnourished, and spent 6 months at Dorothy's. Three days ago her birth mother "kidnapped" her from the feeding center in Jubilee where she was eating lunch with the older neighborhood children.

Her caretaker and grandmother, Paulette, came to me in tears. Rumor is that the mom has taken Lovena to Ouanamet, a city on the border of the Dominican Republic and that she is going to give Lovena away, to an orphanage or a child trafficking circle. There is no way to know. All I know is that this teenage mom had no reason to take Lovena unless there was financial profit involved and that is frightening.

I am sending Paulette, a neighbor, and Vanel, one of my students, to Ouanamet on Saturday to try to find and rescue Lovena. The chances of them succeeding are very slim.

Please pray for Lovena's safety and pray that she be returned to her family!

On Rue Christophe

When I leave my street, I am no longer Keziah,

I am “Blan”, white person, foreigner,

Taking a different form to each person I pass,

A different face to every set of Haitian eyes.

To the young boys under the old scaffold

I am Santa Claus.

Eagerly thrusting outspread hands towards me,

“Blan, give me a toy! Give me a toy!”

To the high school boys on the corner

I am a dare.

Strutting like a peacock and glancing back to see if the rest are watching,

“Blan, I want you. I want you.”

To the woman selling gingerbread under a white sheet

I am a paycheck.

Setting her wares on the ground and striking a confident pose,

“Make me sell today. Make me sell.”

To the small children on the roadside

I am a celebrity.

Pushing and fighting for the chance to simply hold my hand,

“Blan, take me with you. Take me with you!”

To the old man limping with his cane

I am a happy surprise.

Squinting through cataract-blurred eyes and grinning a toothless grin,

“How are you today, Blan? How are you?”

To the dropouts by the trash heap

I am a target.

Mocking my helplessness as they throw rocks inches behind my feet,

“I wasn’t aiming for you, Blan. I really wasn’t.”

To the lady cooking rice on her front stoop

I am the soup kitchen.

Pointing greedily at the plastic bag in my hand, beckoning to me,

“Gimme something from your bag, Blan. Something from your bag.”

To the men on the bench sipping Prestige

I am a prize.

Lurching my way and gesturing obscenely through the not-yet drunken laughter,

“I love you, Blan. Come sleep with me. I love you.”

To the fellow perched on a moto beside the canal,

I am the invader.

Frowning angrily and muttering to no one through clenched jaws,

“Look how the blan has taken my country out of my hands. Right out of my hands.”

And then I cross the canal,

Into Jubilee, tiJubilee, friendly Jubilee,

Where my many faces fade away and I am

Happily, mercifully Miss Keziah once again.