"second trimester"

First of Todd and I want to thank your for supporting us in our adoption endeavor.  Many of you have sent encouraging notes and emails at times when we have really needed support.  Financially, we are overwhelmed with the generosity of our friends and family.  Over $15,000 was deposited to our Lifesong account in 2011!  That doesn't include the cash donations people gave us directly. There are many roles in the adoption process and we are grateful for your partnership with us.

The waiting...

I have to say that in this period of wait it has reminded me so many times of my three pregnancies.  When I found out I was pregnant I was thrilled to share the news.  The excitement.  The anticipation.  The hope.  Family and friends jumped on board and extended their sentiments of joy to us.  And for those of you who were around when sweet little Sophie was causing havoc my first trimester, you took care of my family by bringing us food and watching my kids.  You showered us with love and made it clear that we were not alone.  When we stepped on to this wacky train called adoption, you all were crazy enough to hop on too.  The excitement swelled and we were all ready (or so we thought) for them to be here.  Ah but the waiting...

Once I was into the second trimester of my pregnancy with Sophie, things returned to normal.  I was eating again, :o) kids were back to routine again and the waiting began.  Sometimes that mid trimester seems uneventful.  While the "bump" continues to get larger, we don't actually see the internal growth.  We don't see the tiny miracles that our transforming out baby.  We don't see that our baby's lungs are forming and that her body is creating it's own immune system.  We don't see it yet we are trusting God that He is forming that baby perfectly!   That doesn't mean we don't worry.  That doesn't mean we don't wonder.  However, we are blindly enamored with their growth.

And so it is with this adoption process.  I am in a "gestation" period.  I am waiting.  I am wondering.  I am impatient.  Though this wait is more like the gestation of an elephant, nonetheless I am blindly enamored with their growth.  The girls are learning to trust right now.  Can I tell you how huge that is!  They lived for so long with their needs not being met and now they are learning that when they have a need, someone will meet it.  When they are hurt someone will hug them and make it better.  When they are dirty someone will bathe them.  When they are tired there is a warm bed to crawl in to.  They are learning what it means to bond with someone.  This inherent human need has been stripped away from an orphan and they need to relearn trust.  My favorite movie right now is Dispicable Me because it is in essence, the story of adoption.  At the end Gru (the adpoptive father) tells one of the adopted girls to jump to him from a plane and she won't.  She says, "How can I trust you, you left us!"  And he says, "I promise to never leave you Margo."  That is the heart of an orphan.  Trust.  And the thought of being in that dark and lonely place haunts them for many years.  

This past weekend I was at an adoption conference with a friend.  It was amazing and a huge resource for me as an "expectant" mom.  How comforting for me to be in a large room filled with people in the same boat as us!  I know some people think we are crazy adding two more to our family, but let me say, crazy was the norm in that room and oh was that encouraging!  Over the weekend, in a time of reflection, I journaled a very honest prayer, "God I feel like you have forgotten us."  And by no coincidence at all, I was led to this place in the bible where the prophet Isaiah cries out, "The Lord has forgotten me."  To which God replies, "I will not forget you!  See, I have engraved you on the palms of my hands.  Those who hope in me will not be disappointed."  (Is. 49:15-16).  Indeed He has not forgotten us.  I find tremendous comfort in that.  He didn't give me an answer.  He didn't give me an end date.  He did promise to walk with me step by step.  

God is growing our girls.   We can't see it, but they are growing and learning.  While waiting and anticipating the birth of a child, we don't decide to give birth at 6 months.  We have to wait for their arrival until they are fully developed and ready to enter our home.  Though it is heart breaking to wait, only God knows the "arrival" date of the girls.  We in the meantime must trust.  

We are still waiting for our dossier to be submitted to the IBESR.  We received word today that it should be submitted this Friday.  In the meantime, we covet your prayers for us here and the girls there.  We know God is at work even when we can't see it tangibly.

Sisters Reunite!

THE GIRLS ARE FINALLY REUNITED!!

 Jaline and Marie Line in Jaline's bunk after their showers.  

(Hence the baby powder on Marie Line!)

I (Todd) took a last minute trip to Haiti this weekend, because things just weren’t moving.  We had been waiting four months for Marie Line to move to the crèche with Jaline.  A lot of the other paperwork wasn’t ready either, so I felt I needed to travel to Haiti , since nothing else seemed to be working.  More than anything else, I felt the urgency to get Marie Line, who is suffering from malnutrition, to the crèche and to unite her with Jaline.  Just to clear up some confusion with a few who have been following our adoption story:  WE ARE ADOPTING BOTH OF THE SISTERS, JALINE AND MARLIE LINE.

Well….Marie Line was finally admitted to Jaline’s crèche this weekend!!! After repeated delays and problems, our precious daughters are back together.  SISTERS!  They are definitely sisters.  I always wondered what it would be like when the girls were reunited.  I had always hoped I would be able to see it or have someone video tape it.  It was a bit anti-climactic at first.  Jaline was slow to recognize Marie Line and understand what was happening.  It’s amazing because I have always prayed that Jaline would be able to forget the pain of her past. I have prayed that she would not have to remember sleeping on the cement floors and being desperate for food.  I have prayed that Jaline would forget the brutal hunger that my once starving child suffered through.  I was amazed to see that she didn’t seem to recognize the man who ran her old orphanage.  Eight months later, it appears that much of that past has been erased.

Back to Marie Line, it took a great deal of discussion in French before there was finally an agreement for the director of her old orphanage to admit Marie Line.  Unfortunately, I don’t know any French so I just prayed as voices got heated.  I prayed for the Lord to bring peace and calm the hearts and spirits of those involved.  It didn’t look good and my fears were that Marie Line was going to have to go back to the wretched conditions she had left.  I knew it was possible that she might be stuck there until the adoption was finalized.  I don’t know what changed except the voices became calmer, and all of a sudden our lawyer told me they had agreed that Marie Line could stay at the crèche.  Yes…many tears… I know so many of you have been praying for these precious girls and our family.  THANK YOU!  Please don’t stop, we’re not done yet.

Once they left, we asked Marie Line is she was “grangou” (hungry) and she nodded yes.  After she finished her meal, she moved on to a package of crackers I had handed her before her meal.  Then, in a moment I know I will never forget, Marie Line handed the first one to Jaline, who had just come to sit at the table, Marie Line proceeded to hand the next two crackers to Jaline before she ate one herself.  SISTERS…

They played together, side by side, until it was time to take a nap.  The bond between the two was never broken.  It was amazing to watch.  All the questions and doubts that may have arisen in this journey about adopting TWO children were swept away in a few moments of watching these two play together.  The thought rolled through my head “How could we ever have NOT adopted both of them?”  They were meant to grow up together, learn together, play together, giggle together, and join our family together.  It was simply amazing to watch.

The nap…well it never happened.  Marie Line was waiting for them to make up her bed.  I walked away for a minute and looked back to see Marie Line had crawled in with Jaline.  It was about the cutest thing ever!  Two sisters side by side, resting on their elbows and whispering to each other.  Smiles, whispers, and giggles.  Priceless!!

Marie Line's beautiful smile

And Jaline.  She seems to have found her beautiful smile too!

Please Pray

Post written by Todd:

So here’s the latest news in the story of Jaline and Marie Line.  After not hearing from our lawyer for another two weeks, I finally heard from him last week.  He has been struggling with an infection from his diabetes.  Battling an illness like diabetes takes on a whole new meaning in a nation like Haiti.   Please pray for the health of Jean Maudrel, our lawyer. 

We hope the long awaited move of Marie Line is finally here.  Jean Maudrel is finally planning on moving Marie Line to the crèche where Jaline is currently staying, this Saturday.  I must admit it’s tough to get too excited with that news since she was supposed to be moved two months ago.  Yet we pray that she will finally move to the crèche with her sister Saturday.  As I put Sophie to bed a night ago, I asked her what we should pray for, and of course she said we should pray for her sisters.  When I asked if there was anything specific that we should pray for, she asked that I pray that Marie Line would be able to move to the crèche on Saturday. 

I had to pause in my head and reflect about the magnitude of that moment.  What would it mean for Marie Line to finally move to the crèche?  It would mean that for the first time since December Jaline and Marie Line would be reunited.  Think about that…  these precious sisters haven’t seen one another for eight months.  Jaline still has no idea that her big sister Marie Line is coming to live with her.  She doesn’t know that they are going to be able to grow up together.  We couldn’t tell her, because we had no idea when they would be reunited or how the process would work.  We still don’t know for sure if it will finally happen on Saturday., as we have encountered delays in the past, but when it does… What a day of rejoicing that will be.  When Marie Line last saw her sister, Jaline was three and a half and was severely emaciated.  Today, her little sister Jaline has gained a great deal of weight, is stronger, is healthy, is learning to smile more often, and is learning from her daily schooling. 

While I ponder the joy of Jaline’s progress, I also need to share one more thing I prayed for with Sophie.  Daddy prayed that his little girl, Marie Line, would have enough food to eat the next day, would have clean water to drink, and that the Lord would protect her that night as she slept on the cement floor, exposed to a variety of hazards.  Yep, we’re praying that there will be enough food each day and that the water will be clean.   These are the unfortunate realities of daily life in Haiti, for orphanages and children everywhere… My heart breaks for my little girl as I know the struggles she is enduring, but I have to pause and reflect upon the reality that the problem is so much more widespread.  What does this mean for me/us long term?  I have no idea, but I know that this isn’t a journey that calls us to raise these two little girls and forget about the hundreds of thousands of children who will be left to contend with the daily struggle to survive in Haiti.

We watched a movie a couple nights ago, about the girl who lost her arm from a shark attack while surfing.  While the messages were a bit forced at times, there were a couple things that hit home for me.  The reporters asked her after she returned to competition, struggling as a one armed surfer, if she knew could go back and avoid the shark attack, would she not go surfing that day.  Her response struck a chord with me.  She said no, because then she would not be sharing her story with others.  While we wait, I continually reflect upon all the things I have learned through this journey and the ways my relationship with Christ has deepened over the past year. I also reflect upon how the story of Jaline and Marie Line has affected so many of our friends and family and many people we don’t even know.  I’m sure there are some of you reading this right now that Samantha and I don’t know, or have no idea that you are following our journey.  My prayer is that each of you is growing with us as we follow the story of what the Lord is doing in the lives of these little girls and our family. 

Please pray for the move of Marie Line!  I have been amazed by the power of prayer in my own life over the past year.  We have been so blessed to have people all over the country praying for our little girls.  I know there are people I don’t even know praying for the girls and lifting their path up faithfully.  If that is you-THANK YOU! We are so thankful for all of the people who have invested one way or another in the future of two of God’s precious children.  There’s nothing more reassuring for a desperate father than to hear someone share that they are lifting up his children in prayer. 

We did receive news last week that the judgment on Marie Line’s birth certificate is now complete and her birth certificate is ready to submit to the Haitian government.  Our lawyer has stated that our dossier with all the girls’ documents will be submitted to the Haitian government within a week or so.  Please pray that everything will fall into place for the documents and that they will move swiftly. 

The progress we can see has been slow lately, but we trust that there is a reason for these delays.  In our simple perspectives, we often miss all the things that are happening in each of us to prepare for the adoption and the things we all need to learn along the way. 

I’ll leave you with a short video I took of Marie Line in April.  

Todd

The Waiting

Welcome into my most confusing and frustrating world.  As a father of three amazing children, whom I love deeply, pray for, look after, and cry for, I am in a world I never knew before.  The other day, Sophie, my 9 year old fell off her bike, and I ran over to find her, hold her, wipe her tears away, and try to make it all better.  I think all of us parents have that deep rooted fear of that time when something will happen to one of our children and we won’t be able to clean them up, wipe the tears away, and make it all better.  I’m in a place that I never expected to be, desperate for my Haitian daughters to come home, constantly on the verge of tears, wondering if they’re ok and saddened by the reality that every day they are in Haiti is a day I miss watching them grow up and mentoring them. Bedtimes, hugs, lessons of life, and shared experiences that are missed.  I love them both although I hardly know them.  I am blessed with an amazing wife, who shares her wisdom in many ways.  She is far more gifted than I in personal communication and has been blessed with a wonderful ability to write.  Last May, when we were contemplating adoption, she wrote a profound note that has shaped and defined this past year.  It is as follows: ”It’s a matter of trust.  If we (or you) had the finances to do what you want to do (a missions trip, adoption??) then you rob him of the opportunity of showing himself to you.  It’s a matter of entering into the deepest level of faith, prostrate, vulnerable and completely dependent on him.  I think more than anything it’s an invitation to enter into a place you’ve never been before with God”  In so many ways her note challenged me and has come true over the past year.  I have been overwhelmed by the Lord’s faithfulness in providing financially.  My first missions trip last August has been followed by seven more trips to Haiti over the past year.  We have moved ahead with adopting Jaline and stretched further to adopt Marie Line.  Yet, I have been forced to be become completely dependent upon Him as my girls still remain in Haiti and at many times over the past 5 weeks, I haven’t known where Marie Line has been and if she’s ok.  When we lose our ability to control, we fall to our knees and pray.  Why?  Because we learn there’s a limit on what we can control and must realize that ultimately we and our children are in the Lord’s hands, regardless of whether our kids are riding their bikes through the campground, sitting in school, at college, or sleeping on a cement floor and hoping to get enough food in a terribly poor orphanage in Haiti.  Sometimes we are forced into the deepest level of Faith when we realize there’s nothing else we can do.  It’s sometimes a terribly painful lesson.  I don’t understand for a minute why the adoption is taking so long or why some things have happened. I didn’t hear from our Haitian lawyer for 3 and a half weeks.  Not having any word about Marie Line…not knowing where she was…not knowing why I wasn’t hearing anything.  I finally got a hold of our lawyer; he was in a remote part of Haiti dealing with a death in the family.  We are still waiting… I should receive an update on Monday.  I have spent a great deal of time contemplating the concept of adoption over the past year.  I look at the parallels between a family adopting a child who needs a home, love, and care and the beauty of Christ adopting us when we place our faith in him.  I have reflected upon our Lord weeping and anguishing over those who don't know him yet.  I have to assume our Heavenly Father questions, wonders, and hopes, as I do as an adoptive father.  Does he wonder what's keeping the lost away?  Does he wonder why so many don't answer his repeated calls and pleas. Does he weep as his cries are ignored? When we place our faith in Christ, we are brought out of hopelessness into a loving family.  He rejoices when we embrace his Love. The master of Love wants us to embrace him and shower us with his Love. He loves us all intensely regardless of how long we've known him and where we are at in our walk. Like a father/ parent, He loves us deeply and longs for our embrace, our growth, our acceptance, and our desire to follow the lessons we’ve been taught.  So…we wait and wait…Trust and pray.  I pray each day that the Lord has our girls in his hands and will watch over them until he brings them home.  Then we will pray that he will watch over our children, his daughters, as they ride their bikes, go swimming, head off to school, come of age and learn to make their own decisions and grow to learn that their Heavenly Father has been watching over them since they were born many years ago in Haiti.  And we will continue to pray that they will learn to rest in Him and be amazed by his faithfulness when they fall before Him in prayer. For now, we pray and ask that you will lift these precious girls up in prayer.

Sisters

                                           Jaline                (friend)            Marie Line

I’m sure it comes as no surprise to those of you following our adoption story that we have decided to adopt Jaline’s sister, Marie Line (MARE-A-LEEN) as well.  After my trip to Haiti, it didn’t seem like taking one without the other was an option.  Emotionally raw from that experience, it wasn’t should we, it was how can we make it happen?

Funny thing how God let’s you go through something, almost as if you are watching a scene from a movie where the movement has intentionally slowed.   That’s how I felt, as if things were happening in slow motion.  When we returned from Haiti, Todd and I were a mess.

As both Todd and I recounted our visits to you, you will remember how difficult it was for us to see her sister at the orphanage in Barbencourt.  Though I had heard stories through Todd, nothing compared to experiencing it with all of my senses.  The sounds, the smells,  the touch and the sights I couldn't erase from my memory.  If you remember back in the Fall when Jaline entered our lives, we were aware of her sister, but processing one adoption filled my plate.  Two girls?  Not a chance.

Until I met her.  That was enough.

When we returned to our modest house in Michigan, I found myself looking in my garage, noticing that it was larger than the homes our team painted in Leveque.  Each home we painted had two small bedrooms, and a larger main room.  That's it. Three rooms for one family.  With that comparison, my garage seemed huge, despite the plethora of sports equipment, and my sense of “normal” began to change.

There were these unspoken thoughts going on between Todd and me upon returning.  We both knew what the other one was thinking, but nothing was said to each other or anyone else for that matter.  Processing it all still seemed a bit confusing.  Todd did a check on what the added expenses would be to adopt another child and the expenses were just shy of double.  No 2 for 1 deal here!  So many friends and family have been so generous with donations, how could we expect more?  No doubt the answer came soon after I happened upon a blog from another family of five who adopted a little girl from Ethiopia.   I was stuck by something the dad posted.  At the beginning of the excerpt, the dad is quoting author Rick Warren, then the dad responds.  

"God doesn't owe you an explanation or reason for everything he asks you to do.  Understanding can wait, but obedience will teach you more about God than a lifetime of Bible discussion.  In fact, you will never understand some commands until you obey them first.  Obedience unlocks understanding." (Warren)  So remember, we are not amazing or extraordinary.  I would just say that we are obedient when it comes to some things, like increasing our family; ultimately seeking to be obedient in all things.  You too have something today that God has you to do, it's called purpose.  It's called the Holy Spirit living within you, which was promised and delivered according to His work.  Go forth in the spirit's power.

That was exactly what I needed to hear.  God was asking us to trust and move ahead without understanding the details, but still, a sign, Lord...just a teeny sign?

Then, that movie scene in slow-motion suddenly accelerates and before you can take it in you’re wondering, “what is happening?” 

On Wednesday April 20th, 5 days after we returned from Haiti, a check arrived in our mailbox.  Wrapped around a $1000 check were the words, "The Truth Is...I want you to bring Marie Line home more than I could want anything for myself."  This out of the blue gift was from a dear friend of ours who has been a tremendous support for both of us since the beginning of our adoption journey.  

On Friday the 22nd, I received a message via facebook from a friend that I have not spoken to in over a year.  She inquired on our adoption expenses and what our status was on donations.  I replied.  She responded, "I made out a check to Lifesong for $2000 yesterday before I talked with you because God had placed Marie Line on my heart."  She had no idea we were thinking of adopting her as well.

On Thursday the 28th a friend handed me an envelope and told me to open it when I got home.  The front of the envelope said, "We have no idea what God has in store for your family or the future of Marie Line.  Please take this and use it for whatever needs you have for the adoption."  There was $1000 in cash inside.

That same evening, Todd told me that someone had offered to cover Marie Line's expenses if we chose to move her to the creche that Jaline is in right now.  Yearly expenses for her care is $3000.

I think God got our attention, but because admittedly we are slow, he topped it off with one more.  We got a call from Lifesong that we qualified for an additional grant for Marie Line.  They deposited $3000 into our account.

Absolutely incredible!  $10,000!  In just over a week, a deluge of God’s provision flooded us.   There was nothing to think about.  He had made it clear.  We were adopting sisters.  Two at once.

I remember going to my ultra sound appointment with all three of my pregnancies.  My silent prayer was, "Lord I know and you know that I am NOT the mother of twins!" I was always relieved when there was only one heart beat.  But in thinking about Marie Line, the thought of adding two to our family didn't frighten me like the idea of twin babies.  In a sense, it is like having twins - two come at once.  Though Marie Line is 6 and Jaline is 4, it will still feel like twins.  And with all the changes they will face how great is it that they will have each other to experience them together.  Because when I look back on own my life, my sisters and my cousin Marsha (my fourth sister) are really the only ones who know my whole history and my story from beginning to end.  They laugh at things that no one else understands.  They have cried with me.  They tolerate my irritating personality traits.  And they have repeatedly offered me limitless forgiveness. The familial bond is woven into our family through experiences.  We all come with our own unique stories.  Likewise, Jaline and Marie Line have their own stories but now their stories will become part of our family’s story.

On May 4^th Todd and I celebrated our 20^th wedding anniversary.  Who knew standing at the altar, that we would be ushering in our 20 years of marriage with two little girls from Haiti, making us the parents of five children!!  I always wanted to be a mom and remember praying that it would not be difficult to start a family. If I only knew then what I know now....

In my previous post I had mentioned that Marie Line had asked for my bracelet and I had indeed placed it on her ankle.  For mother's day, Todd went to buy me another one to replace it.  The word on my charm that I had given Marie Line was "grow".  By no coincidence, he found instead a charm that said "sisters".  How apropos!  

Todd's "The Truth Is..."

Here is a journal entry from Todd as a response to my last blog post that was titled, "The Truth Is".

Todd’s Journal entry to Jaline 4-10-11

I wrote this the day we returned from our trip last week, if you haven't read Samantha's blog post below, read it first and this will all make more sense.

My precious Jaline-The truth is: there’s no way I’m leaving your sister in Haiti.  I don’t know how I would answer you when you got older, knowing that your big sister was left to grow up in a crummy orphanage in Haiti, knowing the desperation she would face daily.  Not knowing what would happen to her.  Not knowing if she was getting enough to eat, not knowing what her future would hold, not knowing if she would be cared for when she was sick, not knowing if anyone would ever truly love her.  Knowing in the back of my mind that I had left her behind, maybe hoping others wouldn’t know that you had a sister stuck in the crummy orphanage we rescued you from.  I must admit, my heart wasn’t pulled as much by your sister, because she looked like the healthy one.  She was the one that smiled.  She looked like she could make it, until I saw her on Friday.  She’s getting worse.  She no longer smiles.  She has lost weight and has lost the life that I once saw in her.  I tried to look away.  I tried to forget the picture I took back in October of her looking up at me, 

with her hands on her face, with eyes that looked up at me saying “who are you and don’t forget about me.”  I never forgot that picture, but I just battled with the question of how could we ever add two to our family. How could we afford it?  Where will everybody sleep?  How will I pay for everyone to go to college?

This week, I stood in church at Mission of Hope and watched and listened to the Haitians sing “Our God is bigger, Our God is greater” and I had to ask myself if their God was bigger than my God?  My God has gotten so much bigger in the past year or so, since I jumped out of the boat and started walking to Christ in faith.  However, I must admit, I have the tendency to look down and forget to keep my eyes fixed firmly on Christ.  I was reminded that I need to trust that my God can still move mountains.  Our God can bring you home, my precious Jaline, my God can bring your sister Marie Line home to our family. Our God can provide the money and resources to provide all we need for our family, our God will find us enough room, our God will show his mighty power to all who follow your story. 

I often wonder why it has been taking so long to bring you home, but maybe it’s so we wouldn’t forget about your sister.  Mommy was able to come on this trip at the last minute, last week.  I knew there was a reason he allowed that to happen.  I’ll be honest, I’ve been struggling for a long time with the reality that I thought we were leaving your sister behind.  However, I needed to know that Mommy’s heart was there also.  I needed to know that she was fully behind us adopting both of you.  I heard her and Shelby say this week that they wouldn’t stop at one.  Mommy’s “Truth is” post it said “I wouldn’t stop at one.”  Shelby’s said “One is never enough.”  Her post it yesterday said  “Truth is…Just because you’re not home yet, doesn’t mean I don’t think about you every second of my day” 

Truth is… "I love both of you and we’re going to find a way to bring you home.”  Truth is…I don’t have any idea how it’s going to work out.  Truth is…I don’t have any idea when you will come home.  Truth is…My heart breaks knowing we can’t bring you home yet.  Truth is…I’m trusting our God to open the doors, provide the resources, and watch over each of you.  Truth is…I’ve been crying the entire time I’ve been typing this.  Truth is...I was so excited to know that Mom wouldn’t stop at one.  Truth is…I’ve been praying that the Lord would clearly reveal to us if we should adopt your sister.  Truth is…I was praying that things would work out this week for us to see your old orphanage, so I could know what Mommy’s reaction would be.  Truth is…I needed to visit to know myself.  Truth is…I Love you both.  Truth is…It’s ok for me now to get attached to your sister. 

The truth is...

Post written April 8, 2011

The truth is…

The truth is I am in Haiti.  Yes Haiti; no, not with Jaline.   A week and a half ago as Todd and his team from Avondale were preparing to leave for their Spring Break trip to Haiti, his only female chaperone, Vickie, was admitted to a hospital for an emergency appendectomy, landing her in the hospital for a couple of days and grounding her from any type of travel.  Though I was apprehensive about taking her place, all the details for leaving for an international trip on such short notice were taken care of within 24 hours.  Passport in hand, I was heading to Haiti for the first time.

The purpose of this trip was for 12 students to step out of their comfort zones and experience something that they would not be able to experience in their home state of Michigan.  They came to Mission of Hope Haiti to serve, to paint and to love on the Haitian orphans.  This trip is the result of an ongoing relationship that Avondale started with Haiti after the earthquake.  The purpose of this trip, unfortunately, was not to see our daughter Jaline.  It seems crazy that we could be here, less than an hour away and not see her, but logistically it would be difficult to make the connection, as our itinerary with MOH was already planned.

My intent is not to make this blog update about the Avondale trip.  If you would like to read about what happened over this amazing week, please do visit their blog at http://avondale2011haiti@blogspot.com  This post is about what happened today that connected me to Jaline.  I will warn you now, what you are about to read is emotional and long, so if you do not have time to take this in, please feel free to read it another time.

April 8, 2011

Barbancourt, Haiti

Today is our last full day here in Haiti.  We have not really had an opportunity to visit an orphanage to play and hang out, so we are spending our afternoon at one in a village on our way back from our morning enjoying a beautiful Haitian beach.  As we pull off the main road onto the bumpy graveled road, I begin to feel  uneasy.  The drive down seems long as we pass cement walls, houses, children and adults.  I begin to notice I am uneasy because I am thinking about Jaline and what it was like for her before we moved her to Chances for Children’s crèche in Port-au-Prince.  Unexpectedly, an emotion of sadness comes over me as I look at the children running alongside our truck and I begin cry.   The truck stops and Todd announces to the group that we are in Barbancourt.  Immediately, I begin to sob as I know that familiar name.  It is the village where Todd found Jaline last August.  The reality of Jaline’s home, only known to me in pictures, now begins to unfold.  Our group disembarks from the truck, one by one, and I intentionally exit last.  With a steady stream of tears, I reach for Todd’s hand and say, “I wasn’t prepared for this.”  He replies, “I know.  I will explain.”   As we walk down a dirt path flanked with banana trees and vines, I’m torn between turning back and forging ahead.  Though I don’t want to see what lies ahead, I know that I need to for the benefit of my daughter. 

As we arrive I see a cement building on my left and a pink one right beside it. The first building reminds me of an open structure you would see in a park, roofed but no walls or windows.    There is nothing inside.  Todd turns to me and says it’s their chapel.  I look further inside and wonder how children are moved to worship in such a dark depressing place.  The pink building is where they sleep.  Emotionally, I am not able to look deep into that place so I walk on.  Each structure might be 250 square feet, housing 20 orphans.  Outside of both buildings there is a steel bowl filled with some cups and plates.  There are children’s clothes hanging on plants and trees.  Across from the two buildings are a few tarps and sheets attempting to make living quarters for someone here.  I see no toys.  Children are everywhere.  Some are village children and some are orphans, toddlers through teens. Most are clothed and a few are not.  Some have tattered dresses, some only a top and a few boys clothed only with shorts.  Orphans do not have the privilege of owning underwear so they go without, exposing many bare bums.  Almost all have shoes on.  A few adults begin to appear.  I have not stopped sobbing.  In Haiti, children naturally take your hand and walk along side where ever you are going as if you are family and they have always known you. As we walk past the orphanage the children are following us.  We have picked up about 30 children as we follow the path that will eventually lead us to an open field.  We cross a few irrigation streams and arrive at the open field.

The open field is the most beautiful landscape I have seen so far.  There are lush trees and grazing farm animals all sitting at the foothills of a majestic stretch of mountains.  I walk away from the group to the end of the field and I gaze into the mountains.  They are beautiful, but in their beauty I am wrestling with something dark.  I imagine what it is like for a mother and a father to walk down from those mountains and drop their children off at that horrible place I just passed.  I wonder, “why this place?”  I don’t know Jaline’s family so I can’t judge, but still it makes me wonder, and  I can’t seem to move or leave this spot. 

After  a few minutes Todd comes up to me.  He tells me that Jaline’s sister is here.  She was dropped off at the same time as Jaline.  I was aware that they were dropped off together, but hadn’t prepared myself to see her.  We walk over to the crowd and he points her out to me.  She looks just like her.  Her hair is short yet braided into 12-15 little braids.   She is wearing a shirt without pants and little pink Crocs, too small for her feet.   Todd ends up picking her up along with another little boy.  In the background kids have started a soccer game with some of the teens in our group.  Others have flocked to all the “blans” (white people) waiting to have their nails painted or to play with their hair.  The students on our team are amazing as they receive these children with open arms.   I look to see one girl in particular, Sarah, who is clutching a small child while sobbing.  I thought I was the only one covered in tears. 

And yet in this place that some would say God has forgotten about, I see something remarkable.  There is a boy, about four years old, holding a small bag of purified water over a toddler’s mouth, allowing him to drink.  There is no water or food visible to me throughout our visit so I am astonished that a child who has so little has the generosity to share something, something very rare, with a child smaller than himself. 

I look at Jaline’s sister in Todd’s arms and hold my hands out to her.  She reciprocates with open arms.  As I take her, I see that she is not wearing panties and the shirt (which is a flannel pj top) that is covering her, barely comes past her bum.  When I put her on my right hip, I put her legs in front of me and cover her bottom giving her the decency that she deserves.  Once when I switched her to the other side, she took the back of her shirt and pulled in down, which made me smile because it showed me that she had even the slightest bit of self respect. 

 She is light and smaller than what I had imagined. I guess since I knew that she was older than Jaline, I was thinking maybe she would be bigger.  We were told she was around six yet the little girl I was holding felt very much like a three year old I carried to preschool several years ago. Todd says she is worse than when he lost saw her last, void of emotion, sad and skinny.   We walk around the field and end up sitting on a rock.  She is nuzzled into me and I say to her, “Fatigue?” (“tired” in French) and she nods her head yes.  I wish she’d fall asleep in my arms.  I try to rock her lightly to see if indeed she will succumb, but she does not.  Perhaps she wasn’t tired in the sense of wanting sleep.  Perhaps she was tired of being alone, of not being held or even tired of being hungry.

While holding her I repeated to her several times that she was a “petite belle fille”, a little beautiful girl.  She looked down on my wrist and spotted my chain bracelet that has a charm with the word, “grow” on it.  I bought these bracelets for each of my family members with different words for us to pray for Jaline.  We have all had them since December.  She touched it and tried to move it off my wrist, but it wouldn’t slide off, it had to be detached.  I took it off my wrist and put it on hers and there was a slight smile.  She loved looking at it on her wrist.    

I held her the entire time that I am there.  

Our group stayed for a couple hours and then unfortunately had to leave.  This was heartbreaking for both the orphans and our team.  Some are carrying babies who are sick, some holding hands with a train of children in their wake.  We wish we could have stayed longer.  These children are soaking up the love and attention like a dried out sponge absorbing a rainfall.  God created us to be social.  He created the sensitivities of our skin to receive a gentle touch or a hug which signals something in us that is pleasant and good.  If even lab monkeys wither away without being nurtured by their mommies, then what happens to these children, created in the image of God, if they are not loved and nurtured?  This injustice is wreaking havoc on many of the teens and adults in our group as we prepare to leave.

The time has come for me to put Jaline’s sister down.  I gesture to take the bracelet off of her wrist, but she takes her other hand and moves it up her arm.  I begin to cry once again because I know from past experiences that when Todd has left things with Jaline on previous visits it is taken and most likely sold or traded in the market.  I am not willing to part with my bracelet so that it can be stripped from her.  We continue to walk back to the orphanage and once again, I try and remove the bracelet.  She pulls at it again.  I’m overcome with emotion because it seems as though I am being selfish when in reality it’s just that I don’t want them to take it from her. 

I put her down and take her arm.  As I take the bracelet off of her I motion, “Wait” with my hand.  I remove the bracelet off of her wrist and attach it to her ankle where it can’t fall off.  I say, “Bonne?”  and she nods her head yes with a faint smile on her face.  At that moment I close my eyes and ask God to keep this bracelet on her ankle and pray that it will not be removed.  I find our translator and ask him to tell the orphan workers to please not take it off of her.  They understand and agree.  I have him repeat it once more so they understand.

I put her down and head down the path towards our truck.  I look back once more and wave and she just stares at me.  I am heartbroken.  Our team is heartbroken as we all leave clutching children and enter the truck.  One leaves her sunglasses and one leaves his Cincinnati Reds hat.

Jordan, one of the students from Avondale, began a photography project at home where he took a yellow post it note, had someone write their answer to, “The truth is…” and photographs the post it note, focused in the foreground with the person holding the note in front of their face.  The next picture is focused on the person holding the note.  What started out as a project, quickly became liked by many on Facebook.  Some of the answers are moving and profound.  As I sat there holding this little girl I begin to feel the way Todd described when he first met Jaline.  There is something about her, though physically she is not really responsive, something sweet and tender happens as she looks into my eyes.  It’s stretching my heart and I am in complete awe that Todd was able to tear himself away from Jaline the 5 times he visited her here.  I don’t think I have that strength.

And the truth is…I wouldn’t stop at one because my heart has room for more.  That is the truth, but the reality is that I do not have $18K for another adoption nor do I have a house big enough to house a large brood.  What does that mean?   Does that mean we step out in faith and let God provide?  Something is happening, but I am not sure what.  Haiti has captured my family and we seem to be getting deeper and deeper involved with the country and the people and I never expected to fall in love.

Jaline's sister Malalina