an early return

A sweet send-off:
After spending the day painting homes and praying for families, everyone staying at the compound headed down to church for Worship Night. Half the "congregation" was Haitian . . . the other half, American. Worshipping together, in a sweet mix of both Creole and English, was an incredible thing to be a part of. I wouldn't have chosen any other way to end my time in Haiti.

A not so sweet send-off:
Speaking of ending my time in Haiti, I actually left a few days early. I didn't want to needlessly worry you all, so I kept this a little known fact. I ended up getting pretty sick soon after arriving in Titanyen. No big deal, I thought. I figured it would pass. And then as I got worse I started hoping it would pass. And then I started praying it would pass. Instead of getting better, I continued to get worse, so I made the decision to fly home early. What followed was a ridiculous amount of sleep, a visit to an urgent care, some bloodwork, and no answers. I figured as much, but it was worth a try. It was a bit of a scare, but I'm definitely on the mend. I'm sad my trip got cut short, but I made the right decision and I'm happy to be home.

As always, my time in Haiti teaches, changes, and renews me. What I find funny is that we go to places like Haiti to offer some kind of help, in hopes that what we do is making some small difference in the lives of people there . . . except, I always come back feeling like I'm the changed one.

For now, it's back to the hustle and bustle of life back in Wilmington : class, work, and grad school applications. The transition is always a bit difficult, and I'm already missing Haiti, but I know I'll be back. There's just something about that place. I just can't seem to stay away.

The end.



my adventure to titanyen

After spending a wonderful weekend with Gwenn and Nick, it was time to say goodbye. Kyle and I both needed to head to Port-au-Prince, where we would part ways. Kyle had a flight back to the States and I needed to meet up with Qasim (my Haitian friend from my cholera unit days). To avoid the whole traveling alone in Haiti thing, Qasim offered to be my escort for the day.

4 tap taps later, and I finally arrived in Titanyen.

Tap taps are painted trucks or buses that serve as Haiti's form of public transportation. They are cheap, chaotic, crammed, and hot (thus, most Americans won't use them). Before the end of the night, I had inherited the nickname "tap tap." Every conversation began the same way : "Hey I heard about you. You were the one who took tap taps to get here!!"

Never again. Next time, I take a moto. :)

 

Arriving at Mission of Hope was equally chaotic. Apparently, no one knew I was coming in that day. I had only one number and one name (yes, I realize I should know better), so of course no one knew me or who I was talking about.

After getting my license and bags confiscated by the security guard . . . after roaming around the compound looking for a white person to help me . . . and after explaining my situation multiple times . . . things finally got worked out.

I think it's just fact that anything that can go wrong will go wrong in Haiti. Haiti should come with a disclaimer: it will take you 3 times longer than planned to accomplish whatever you have in mind . . . something will go wrong at some point in the process . . . but it will end up working out how it's supposed to in the end.

Compared to life in Seguin, Mission of Hope is like staying at a hotel. And this is where I'll be honest. . . I have felt uneasy, and even guilty, about staying here. I've realized that for some reason, I have it in my head that I have to be just as uncomfortable or as limited as the people I'm serving. I'm not sure why exactly, except that maybe it's because most of my time has been in Seguin, where this is often the case. 

God is teaching me to accept gifts from others and blessings from Him.

Love, Janae

m'ap vini

My last couple days in Seguin were spent delivering water purification systems. Think geogaching. We found each home using coordinates on a handheld GPS (we, meaning not me... I refused to help with this part due to my terrible sense of direction), gave them a bucket, and taught them how to use it properly.

Seguin has been unusually sunny. I was beginning to think that reports of endless rain and no electricity were lies...until the day we got poured on. Small rivers of water flowed over my shoes and rain slowly collected in the water buckets I was carrying. We were quite the sight, ponchos and rainjackets all in a row, trying to book it back to the clinic.

We left Seguin Friday morning. I found myself saying "m'ap vini" (I am coming back) a million times. All the kids wanted to know that I was coming back. This kills me. This is what gets me thinking about the pros and cons of mission work. You spend time somewhere, only to grow attached to the people there, who in turn grow attached to you. What happens when you leave? What happens if you cannot make that ultimate committment by staying longterm? Does the good outweigh the bad?

Highlights:

1. Throwing Kyle a surprise going away party, complete with a cake and glowsticks. It was pretty fantastic.
2. Successfully finishing our public health project and delivering all our water purification buckets.
3. Giving a lesson to the kids at a school next door about dental hygiene.
4. An interesting (as always) ride down the mountain with 12 or so people crammed into and onto one truck.
5. Spending time at Hands and Feet Orphanage playing with the babies in the nursery.
6. Pizza night at Cyvadier Hotel.
7. A Saturday morning spent saying goodbyes, taking a long nap, and jumping in the ocean.
8. Nick and Gwenn being wonderful, spoiling me with things like pizza and a bed with a pillow.

Goodbye Seguin...just for now. 

M'ap vini.

Love, Janae

steadiness

My time in Seguin is coming to a close.

Thinking about leaving so soon makes me a little sad. When I think of Haiti, I immediately think of Seguin. It's definitely my comfort zone.

The long awaited plan: I'll be spending an extended weekend in Jacmel with Nick and Gwenn at Joy in Hope and then traveling to Titanyen to volunteer with Mission of Hope. This makes me laugh because this one simple sentence took two weeks to figure out. I definitely let myself become way too overwhelmed planning my last week in Haiti. Unsuccessful plans...failed options... missing phone numbers... lack of internet and phone service...no way to get from point A to point B... I let the stress get to me. It would get to anyone, but I'm still not proud of how I let it overwhelm me.

My devotional for today was a perfectly timed reminder. Figured I'd share:

"I am training you in my steadiness. Too many things interrupt your awareness of me. I know you live in a world of sight and sound, but you must not be a slave to those stimuli. Awareness of me can continue in all circumstances. No matter what happens. This is steadiness I desire for you.

Don't let unexpected events throw you off course. Rather, respond calmly and confidently, remembering that I am with you. As soon as something grabs your attention, talk with me about it. Thus, I share in your joys and problems. I help you cope with whatever is before you. This is the way of peace."

Philippians 4:4-8

Love, Janae

a sunday in seguin

Sundays are my favorite.

Sundays are for going to church, being surrounded by friends, going out to lunch, taking long naps, and taking time to enjoy beautiful weather.

Sundays are the same here.
Things seem to slow down.

We went to church this morning at the school I've been talking about. Church back home seems just plain rushed when you compare it to the three hour service we were a part of this morning. After about 4 sermons and 3 sessions of worship, we were asked to stand up, introduce ourselves, and sing a song for them. Rachel, one of the girls staying at the Clinic to build latrines, led us in singing "Amazing Grace." The energy and unhindered worship is an incredible thing to witness and be a part of. Our unsure glances turned into smiling...our smiling turned into clapping...our clapping turned into dancing. Their joy is contagious.

We've spent today napping, reading, and watching movies. All wonderful things.

2 of the girls that have been part of

my life for the past week. Liz

on the left and Lynae on the right.

Romans 12:12  "be joyful in hope, patient in affliction, faithful in prayer"

Love, Janae

"this is the day the Lord has made"

My time in Seguin has been spent...
  - bringing supplies to the new Cholera Treatment Center
  - collecting data from charts at the CTC
  - hiking around the community to gather data for a public health project
  - cleaning and assembling buckets for water filtration systems to be passed out in the community
  - learning as much Creole as humanly possible (it involved much impatience and much laughter)
  - playing outside with the kids
  - watching Liz try and dread her hair

Kyle's public health project has us hiking around the community, assessing water and sanitation needs. (Yesterday we hiked about 6 miles, so my legs are not liking me right now!) Questions range from where they get their water to whether or not they use a latrine. Liz and I go off on our own most days with a translator, which is forcing us to learn Creole. I'm feeling 10x more comfortable with the language...yet frustrated and impatient at the same time, wanting to be fluent. I'm learning more and more Creole by the minute though. I'm learning dozens of new words a day, memorizing helpful phrases, and can get the gist of a majority of conversations around me. Every once in a while, of course, a funny mistake is made that sends both Haitians and Americans into hysterics.

A couple things struck me today:

1. The people here are so welcoming. We are the ones stopping them in their day and in their work to ask questions...questions they probably find silly and a little pointless. Yet, at almost every home, we were offered a chair to sit, vegetables to bring back to the clinic, or an offer to sit and talk. They have so little, yet what they do have, they are willing and wanting to share with strangers.

2. The people here are so grateful. Before Liz and I went out into the community today, our first task was to run an errand with our translator. We ended up at the same school I visited last January (Clayton took us to deliver boxes of school supplies for each of the kids. Dargelia, one of the teachers there, remembered me. She was so full of joy and appreciation. I managed to tell her in Creole that I remembered her as well, and that one of my favorite memories from my last visit was hearing the children sing songs. They sang "this is the day that the Lord has made," a childhood favorite of mine. Delighted I remembered, she led me inside, stopped class, and had them stand up and sing to me again. It was one of those beautiful moments you plan to store away forever.

They have my heart.

seguin, again

I cannot put into words how wonderful it is to be back in Haiti. There are moments I feel like I never left.

Highlights:

1. Eating yummy street food from the same place I did last time (if you don't recall, I got major food poisoning last time around). Probably not smart, but I did not get sick this time!

2. Not dying on the 8 hour ride up the mountain! Liz and I were in the truck bed on top of all the luggage the entire time. At one point, both my feet were in the air and I was on my way out of the truck. At one point, we were delerious from exhaustion and in hysterics trying not to inhale rice. I'm sore from the long ride up, but do as the Haitians do! I prefer it - it's just more fun being in the back.

3. The river being crossable.

4. Getting the truck un-stuck from all the mud we found waiting for us in Seguin. We were maybe 5 minutes away when the truck got stuck. A couple piles of rocks and 4 girls pushing the truck later... we were free.

5. The kids in Seguin remembering my name. It made my heart happy. My Creole has improved greatly since last time, so they were quite pleased.

6. Water.

7. Playing with the kids outside the clinic today. We played soccer, slid down the hill on pieces of pipe and tin, and danced around without a care in the world.

8. Liz being all sorts of awesome. We're going to wake up at 5am every day to practice Creole. We're also going to move to Haiti together (kidding..wait.. maybe). Read about her thoughts of Seguin here: homeinhaiti.blogspot.com

Love to you all,
Janae

scrambling

The past couple days have had me scrambling!

Here's to the end of hours on the phone, hundreds of e-mails, endless errands, and last-minute packing!

Here's to the joy of wonderful friends, good food, running my first 5K, and leaving for Haiti in the morning!



I wanted sushi, a hamburger, and a

PCJ mocha shake before leaving the

country. Check, check, and check. :)

Thanks Justin for being all about

finding a good burger place in

downtown Raleigh.


I will be in Haiti for just three weeks this time: June 6-27.

With half of my trip up in the air, I've been scrambling to figure out logistics. A newfound friend of mine inadvertantly reminded me of the very verse I lived and breathed in Haiti last time: "Commit to the Lord whatever you do, and your plans will succeed...In his heart a man plans his course, but the Lord determines his steps." (Proverbs 16:3,9) I couldn't have asked for a better reminder that stopped me in my mental tracks. So, here's to ending the scrambling. Things will work themselves out.

I am sitting here smiling as I think about being back in Haiti again. After spending five weeks in Haiti earlier in the year, I managed to last maybe two weeks before booking another flight back.There's just something about that place :)

I will update as often as possible. With the rainy season, electricity (and therefore internet) may be lacking at times.

So much love,
Janae

woulda-coulda-shoulda's

I have a new hospice patient, and she is teaching me more than she'll ever know. She's this little, frail, happy always, even chatty on a good day lady. She's unlike most of my patients though, who are usually lucid enough to converse with me. She has severe dementia instead, which keeps her confused and frozen in childhood. She is filled with so much joy though. With some help, I finally decided on how to spend time with her: I've begun reading her children's poetry. I don't know about you, but I grew up on Shel Silverstein...and oh to be a child again:

Almost every visit holds a new lesson for me. I love this about hospice work. I don't feel like I'm giving because I get so much out of it myself. Oddly enough, my lesson today came from reading a children's collection of poems.

 

I have listened to so many life stories over the years. Beautiful stories. Heartwrenching stories. What has made a lasting impression is the emotion and struggle behind regrets my patients voice to me. Let me tell you, regret is a powerful, powerful thing. And thus, as cliche as it is, life should not be wasted.

So why is it that we don't take chances?
Miss out on opportunities?
Set ourselves up for regret?

I'm also reading a book called Permission to Speak Freely by Anne Jackson, and this is what she has to say: "I realize fear isn't only affecting me, but humanity as well. As I look around today, I see him hooking into many people I encounter. Their hearts are fighting for their dreams, yet fear claws away at their spirits, telling them their dreams are impossible. These people want to have a family, go back to school, quit their jobs and move to Africa, ask that girl out, volunteer at a shelter, stand up for justice, pose a question, right a wrong, or say hi to their neighbor, but fear soaks into their bloodstream like a paralyzing virus and prevents them from taking a step in the beautiful, wonderful, difficult life in front of them. Fear wants to stop our stories. And with the pain and brokenness and hurt in this world, we simply can't let it. The human race needs a hope and faith and light now more than ever."

I realize there comes a point where we need to grow up: when we need to start choosing responsiblity over adventure, when we need to start planning for now and planning for later. But, I don't want fear keeping me from doing big things with my life either. "Have you noticed how we're often impressed by people who appear to be fearless? The ones who fly to the moon. Chase tornadoes. Enter dangerous war zones. Skydive. Speak in front of thousands of people. Stand up to cancer. Raise money and adopt a child who isn't their flesh and blood. Why are we so impressed by them? Because we are them." Deep down, we all have the desire and the ability to do big things with our lives. Why settle for a mundane life? Or why play it safe? There's a difference between child-ish and child-like. We all have childlike dreams, childlike faith, childlike courage. Find it.

Just food for thought.
Life is too fleeting for woulda-coulda-shoulda's.

Love, Janae

"Why don't we dance anymore? I'm not okay with that. Why don't we laugh anymore? I'm not okay with that. Cause the years go by like stones under rushing water. We only know, we only know when it's gone." - Needtobreathe

here's to counting blessings

Rough week. 

We've all had plenty of those. If I lacked perspective, I'd be pretty tempted to unravel my messes. But, at the end of the day...when all is said and done...I am so very blessed and life is wonderful. We all have unspoken struggles. We all have scars from our past that just won't seem to fade. But I think you can always find something beautiful in brokenness. It is in brokenness that we reach out and realize we need something bigger than ourselves.

"Sooner or later you figure out life is constructed specifically and brilliantly to squeeze a man into association with the Owner of Heaven. It is a struggle, with labor pains and thorny landscape, bloody hands and a sweaty brow, head in hands, moments of severe loneliness and questions, moments of ache and desire. All this leads to God, I think...Life is a dance towards God, I begin to think. And the dance is not so graceful as we might want. While we glide and swing our practiced sway, God crowds our feet, bumps out toes, and scuffs our shoes. So we learn to dance with the One who made us. And it is a difficult dance to learn, because its steps are foreign." - Donald Miller
  
Here's the thing: life is filled with
     challenges
          disappointments
                heartache
                       difficult lessons
                                difficult people

And not one of us is perfect. Life is messy. The beautiful thing about it is that we aren't expected to pretend otherwise. That would be silly. What we are expected to do though, it to keep moving.

Keep pushing forward.             
Find the good through the bad.
Cling to what is wonderful and let go of what isn't.

Here's to counting blessings and finding things that make me smile:






"Finish each day and be done with it. You have done what you could. Some blunders and absurdities no doubt crept in; forget them as soon as you can. Tomorrow is a new day; begin it well and serenely and with too high a spirit to be encumbered with your old nonsense." -Emerson

Love, Janae

it's a beautiful thing

I love me some Donald Miller. Courtesy of him, my thoughts for the day:

“I bring this up only because life is complex, and the idea that you can break  it down or fix it in a few steps is rather silly. The truth is, there are a million steps, and we don’t even know what the steps are, and worse, at any given moment we may not be willing or even able to take them; and still worse, they are different for you and me and they are always changing. I have come to believe the sooner we find this truth BEAUTIFUL, the sooner we will fall in love with the God who keeps SHAKING THINGS UP, keeps changing the path, keeps rocking the boat to test our faith in Him, teaching us to not rely on easy answers, bullet points, magic mantras…but rather in His guidance, His existence, His mercy, His love.”

I laugh when I think about where I was just one year ago. The plans I had in mind. The path I thought I was taking.Things have since then been quite shaken up. And it's a beautiful thing.

Countdown to next Haiti trip: 2 months. 21 days.

Love always,

Janae

a temporary goodbye

Children outside the clinic playing drums and

dancing.

My time in Haiti is coming to an end.

After being here almost five weeks, Seguin has become home. Leaving this place is going to break my heart. I let myself get far too attached.

I spent my last morning in Seguin trying to memorize the view from the Clinic roof and thinking about what it is I'm to miss. I'm going to miss living simply, though I will really enjoy showers and doing laundry when I get home. I'm going to miss the quiet. I'm going to miss serving these people.

I am excited to see where life takes me. At the beginning of my trip I told Kyle a major goal of mine was to figure out my life! Just something small to add to the to-do list, eh? As I spent more and more time thinking and praying, I realized that it's not for me to worry about figuring out. As long as I don't slam shut doors God opens for me, He has it figured out and will lead me in an incredible life. My plans usualllly don't work anyways. so what's the point in trying to plan out every detail? This has become my new favorite reminder: "Commit to the Lord whatever you do, and your plans will succeed...In his heart a man plans his course, but the Lord determines his steps." (Proverbs 16:3, 9) It turns out, the moment I let go of the worry and need to figure out where I am going in life, I got my answer.

There was a reason for my time here. Well, a lot of reasons. In so many ways, the timing of this trip has been perfect, even uncanny. The people that I've met, the relationships I've made, the ways in which I've grown, what I've learned... there was a point in all of this. 

To go on this trip required me to drop a lot of big plans I had back home: the plan to take Paramedic training, my job at the pharmacy, the stress of applying to graduate schools. I enjoyed serving in small ways, through EMS and hospice work, but for the most part my life was being lived for myself. I wanted to break free from that because it didn't sit well with me. So, I came to Haiti to serve. I found this quote that resonate so deeply with what I feel now:  

"The most important moments rarely come at a convenient time. Sometimes you wish that God would check your caledar first. The ironic part is that our schedules get packed with the mundane and ordinary, and we become irritated with God when he tries to interrupt us with the miraculous and extraordinary. The Scriptures are full of stories about people who were rudely interrupted by God. We read them and long to have the same kind of adventure. Yet when God interrupts us, are we willing to respond in a moment's notice?" (McManus)

I am promising myself that I will leave behind the mundane and ordinary and let God continue to interrupt my life with the extraordinary. I promise to welcome such interruptions. Seeing as how I haven't left yet, and I'm already planning trips back, it's safe to say I'm going to crave these interruptions. I'm just temporarily saying goodbye.

Love, Janae

ups & downs

"When life is sweet, say thank you and celebrate. And when life is bitter, say thank you and grow."

Last weekend, we ran out of water. Our only option was to do a rain dance. Okay, kidding. We paid Haitian women to carry water on their heads up to the clinic.

Five women.
Five 5 gallon buckets at a time.
15 trips.

They would bring me the buckets of water, lift them onto the roof of the clinic, and then I would carry them to the cistern and dump the water in. I ended up having very sore arms and a sore back, but it’s silly to complain isn’t it? The women had far more work than I did. What I learned: water is that much more valuable when you spend half a day working for it. I cringe every time I see someone from a team here showered, or when the cook washes dishes like there’s an endless supply. Oh well.

I ended a fairly chaotic week with a wonderful getaway. I had yet to leave the mountain, so getting away from Seguin was a nice change of pace. Two friends from Humanity First (Brianne and Tim) and I headed down the mountain in the Clinic's truck. We had a Haitian woman and her child with us who needed an x-ray done in Jacmel. We did this while Kyle and Clayton ran 16 miles down the mountain I might add. Don't worry, I tell them they're crazy every day.

It takes about 3 hours to get down to Jacmel from Seguin. A bumpy car ride is such an understatement, but I can't recreate that with words. You'd have to come and experience it!A view of Jacmel:

Tim, a friend from Humanity First, generously offered to cover the cost of a hotel for a night. After a fantastic dinner and great conversation, we proceeded to jump in the pool clothing and all. Why not, right? It was declared that the night was like Christmas Eve, a night none of us wanted to end. In the morning, Kyle left to head back up the mountain. Clayton, Brianne, Tim and I spent the morning drinking too many cups of coffee, reading, napping, and hanging out at the beach. We figured we'd make our way to Port-au-Prince eventually. No rush.

This brings me to the end of my happy vacation. For lunch, we had delicious street food in Jacmel. Result: food poisoning. The 3 hour drive to Port-au-Prince was fairly uncomfortable, but for the most part I was in denial that I was getting sick. By the end of the night, it was all over. I will forever be afraid of Jacmel street food, and I will always remember my two days in Port-au-Prince as my two most miserable days in Haiti.

When I got sick the second week I was in Haiti, I remember being overwhelmingly homesick. I wanted to be home. This time, I was overwhelmingly homesick again, but for Seguin. I remember laying there, wishing I were back at the clinic in Seguin. It made me realize how much I've fallen in love with Seguin...how it's become home for me...how difficult it's going to be to leave...

Port-au-Prince:

The destruction from the earthquake…the cholera…the political unrest… Haiti appears an absolute mess if that’s the way you choose to look at it. In some ways, it absolutely is. In other ways, it isn’t. It’s in the middle of the mess that we end, and God begins.

My time here is still incredible. It’s definitely interesting being a longterm volunteer. I see teams come and go. I see how much work goes into the preparation and then recovery from having a team of people here. It definitely confirms my decision to stay for a longer period of time. I was able to adjust, and now I just sort of know how to help out and stay busy.My time is coming to a close, and it breaks my heart. I've decided to live life in denial because it's not fun thinking about leaving. If I think about it too much, I am going to find myself online changing my flight.

Loving it here, but missing you all.

Love, Janae

abandoning the comfortable

Hello. Join me in my view of Seguin tonight?

Lately, I've been spending most of my time at the CTU. The place is growing on me. It's a place where I can help. It's a place of wonderful solitude.

This morning, I had a 3 year old girl come in with moderate dehydration. She was such a precious little thing, and it hurt my heart every time she had to throw up. For three hours, I sat in a chair a few feet away from her and her mother reading, praying, journaling, and monitoring her. I needed to know just how much fluid she was taking in, and how much she was losing. She was so little and helpless, I felt like I was abandoning her every time I walked away. So I stayed. If anything, I wanted her to know I cared and that I loved her, even though I didn't know her.

I also got to thinking today... about how drastically different my two worlds are. I have my life in Wilmington, and I have a life here in Haiti. Haiti has shown me a lot about life outside the States. I'm glad to rid myself of my ignorance. I'm seeing the living conditions, the malnutrition, the lack of healthcare that defines a huge part of this world.

I think Christianity in America has become way too comfortable. It's all about soaking up the hope Christianity offers, but disregarding what Scripture commands: to live a life for others. To love our neighbors. To serve the poor. Instead, we live happy, comfortable, spoiled lives. It's all about the American dream, right? Living a life in pursuit of anything different would be too difficult. Too radical. Too unnerving. Too uncomfortable.

“I could not help but think that somewhere along the way we had missed what is radical about our faith and replaced it with what is comfortable. We are settling for Christianity that revolves around catering to ourselves when the central message of Christianity is actually about abandoning ourselves.” (Platt)

I fear we're taking the encouragement and leaving behind the challenges. We are acknowledging God with our words but not our actions. We walk right out the door and deny Him with our lifestyle.

I want to stop being so comfortable.

Join me?

Love, Janae

glimpses

It’s a good morning.

I feel fairly adjusted here: I’m on the right time zone, I’m no longer sick, and I’ve let go of frustrations I once had. I walked into a completely different culture, and I think for some reason expected the transition to be smooth. Instead, I found a language barrier and huge cultural differences. One of my biggest challenges: never knowing what is being said around me. I can’t have the conversations I want to have. I often stand uncomfortable, waiting to catch on to some Creole or for Kyle to remember to translate. That's been let go of though. Time to embrace the comfortable and uncomfortable.

Life here is so very different from the one I lead at home. It’s definitely the small things that make for incredible days here.

Like… trying to have a conversation with a happy Haitian child:

Like… having yummy food for breakfast:

Like… reading a letter from a friend. Today, a letter made a regular day a wonderful one. A friend gave me a beautiful notebook filled with advice, challenges, and encouragement for me to read in Haiti. I opened it up today and read this:

“Your heart is going to break for every single hurting person you see, no matter what kind of hurt it might be that they’re dealing with. You will want to fix everything so that they can be happy, comfortable, secure. Realizing the you can’t do that will make you feel as small and helpless as you’ve ever felt. And the funny thing about our God is that that’s all okay. It’s not supposed to be about us, our strength, or our pride. In those broken moments, we have caught a glimpse of the heart of Jesus and his compassion.”

This resonates so deeply with what I feel here. Your heart breaks for the helpless. It breaks even more when they don’t want your help.

I am so thankful for the people God has placed in my life. Thank you dear friend (you know who you are) for the words of wisdom and encouragement you have given me. I’ve been clinging tightly to this notebook you sent me to Haiti with.

I’ll end this post with a beautiful quote:

“The sacred mixes in with the daily when you have a conversation with someone you love, or when you read a great book, or when you do something courageous. It’s still just a normal day, but there’s something bigger, something more compelling going on too…There are glimpses and whispers of the divine all through the daily…”

Have a wonderful day.

Find your own glimpse of something beautiful today.

Love, Janae

Cholera

The Cholera Treatment Unit: home away from home

Cholera, at least in Seguin, has slowed to the point where Chris and Kyle let go of almost all the staff. Though it is supported by MSF (Doctors Without Borders), we are all in charge of keeping it staffed and running. Chris has been living there as the only one with medical experience…except, he left yesterday for the States. With Clayton gone, Kyle running errands in Jacmel and Port-au-Prince, and no teams here to help, I’ll be filling in. I'll have Qasim to translate, a guard to make sure I'm alive... and... that covers it.

I think it took maybe 30 seconds after Kyle left to realize I was very alone here. It took maybe 30 seconds more to get emotionally overwhelmed. To be at the CTU by myself was unnerving.

We call it "the prison". Seriously. It's easy to feel pretty alone there, with too much time to try and keep yourself occupied. A soccer ball (thanks Kyle) has saved the day twice now. Other than that, these three books keep my sanity intact:

A glimpse of my first 24 hours at the CTU:

1:00 pm
Qasim's call comes right at the end of Clinic. The CTU has received its first Cholera patient in 3 days. Kyle isn't quite done seeing patients, so I offer to head down right away. The patient is an older man who looks like death. He has severe dehydration...his entire face is sunken. I can't feel a radial pulse, he has severe skin tenting, and he is too weak to speak. He is so, so very anxious. That is never a good sign. We were informed by family that brought him that he is from Port-au-Prince, and had started vomiting several days ago. He was immediately placed in Plan C, which meant IV fluids. As I get my IV supplies set up, I pray and try to keep my hands from shaking. Getting an IV will save his life. Not getting one really isn't an option.

1:30 pm
It's too much pressure. With Qasim looking over my shoulder and trying to help, I begin to panic and can't get an IV. I thought I got one... the saline flush went in... but when I let the fluid run I watched it begin to fill around the vein and not in it. Dismayed, I try again. Four tries later, and it's time to call Kyle. I could care less about my pride. I simply feel terrible and need some help.

2:00 pm
Kyle finally manages to get a 24g in one arm, and half a 20g in the other. Good enough for us. Tape will hold it in. Thank you Kyle for saving the day.

2:30 pm
The patient is anxious and won't quit moving his arms. Kyle and I sit and hold him down for the better part of an hour, ensuring fluids are going in.

3:00 pm
I decide to lay down for a few minutes, then wake up to find Kyle gone. What a punk! He needed to get away after a long morning. I monitor the patient - making sure to get air out of his line, changing fluid bags, and setting drip rates per protocol (... or not... sometimes you just have to go with your gut). The patient has a bucket under him and two beside him. Cholera is not a gracious disease. At times, I just hold the patients hand because there's simply nothing else to do but put fluids in and watch the disease run its course.

4:00 pm
I can't take it anymore. I need to use the bathroom. Hello hole in the ground.


5:00 pm
The patient isn't doing great. One liter after another of fluids is given. He still has no radial pulse. I have no blood pressure cuff here either, which for my sake, I think I'm happier about. I think I'd rather not know.

5:30 pm
It's definitely getting cooler out, and I'm wondering how much warm clothing I brought with me. Kyle comes back. Hurray for company!

6:30 pm
It's dark out, so it's time to get the generator going. Of course it's not working, so I stand in the dark trying to set an IV drip rate (unsuccessful...it totally requires light) while Kyle goes about trying to fix it.

7:00 pm
Movie time! ... until Kyle's computer dies. This is sad moment for us.

8:00 pm
Kyle and I are huddled under a blanket on a cot in the pharmacy "building" (if you can call it that). Maybe tarp and a tin roof? Anyways, we're either reading or studying... or staring off into space. I think both of us are sick of trying to stay occupied.

9:30 pm
Kyle and I escape the CTU for an hour. The patient still has an hour and a half before the saline bag is empty, so we decide it's time to take a break. Kyle seems mentally exhausted to me (if I had to run two medical clinics I think I would be too) so I tell him I'm making a decision he is not allowed to argue with: I am spending the night at the CTU and he is staying at the clinic. I'm pretty sure he wouldn't have argued anyways :) Bonus: I got raisins from his secret stash out of the deal.

10:00 pm
Kyle is kind enough to escort me to the CTU. I can find my way there and back in daylight, but it's a different story at night. I'll learn. Or get lost, and then learn. There's just so many paths to take. And I am fantastic at getting lost. I was not blessed with sense of direction.

10:15 pm
I check on the patient. He is still losing a lot of fluid. Everyone else is sleeping. I hesitantly wake up Qasim because he doesn't realize I'm staying the night. They kindly make an extra bed for me.

11:30 pm
I am trying to sleep, but radios are going and people are singing and talking. The patients IV fluid is set to last about an hour or two, so I check accordingly. I figure I'll get in an hour to an hour and a half of sleep between each check-up. I have one of Kyle's phones to serve as an alarm. I'm being paranoid, but I have already almost put air in an IV line a couple times now. I fear falling asleep, and not waking up in time to change empty saline bags.

1:00 am
Time to check on the patient. Almost no fluid has gone in. The patient is bending his arms (despite the IV arm boards taped to it), which stops the flow of fluid. I try to be stern, and attempt to speak Creole. Alright, so I play charades. I shake my head no as I bend my arms, then shake my head yes as I straighten them. He nods. I tell him "Merci."

3:30 am
I'm exhausted, and up again to check on the patient. He's not sleeping well, and he keeps moving. If his arms aren't straight, fluids don't go in. His nod earlier apparently didn't mean what I thought. I'm losing this not so fun battle.

5:00 am
I wake up to the alarm again. Time to check on the patient and be up for the day. I try and get him to drink ORS (oral rehydration solution). When he came in initially, he drank 5 cups of it. Awesome. Now though, he throws up whatever goes in. He's not drinking enough.

7:00 am
I head back up to the clinic to: get some coffee, check in with Kyle, and get a few minutes away. Then it's back to the CTU.

10:30 am
Qasim and I sit around and start talking. We end up talking about life and what we believe in. The conversation came out of nowhere, but I suppose you get to talking about all sorts of things at the CTU. I decided Qasim is one of my favorites. He's kind and compassionate, and he's teaching me Creole with I am so thankful for! He has been at the CTU a month. Qasim told me this: "If white people are willing to come and help my people, then how can I, as one of them, leave? I had a dream of going to school, but God has given me a different dream right now. I can always go to school next year." He has a good heart.

11:30 am

The patient's family stops by to get an update. We can't let them in, but I ask Qasim to see how much they know about Cholera. Qasim gives a Cholera lesson in Creole and I hand them bars of soap. Cholera education, one Haitian at a time. It's all we can do. We try to reassure the family that he is improving, but inwardly I cringe because he's not improving as fast as I'd like. We've given him about 17 liters of fluids at this point, but he loses so much and he still looks dehydrated.

12:00 pm

Qasim and I escape the CTU and play soccer outside its walls. It is a fantastic way to get rid of pent up energy. When you let go and let yourself relax, you find sudden energy and laughter that makes the day instantly better. Soccer is sanity time.

12:30pm
Hallelujah, he has a radial pulse! And Hallelujah I get a break! Kyle is here to give me some relief time, so I'll be hiking back up to the clinic for food, a nap, and possibly a shower. It's been far too long since my last one. Let's reorder that: shower, nap, and then food.

1:00 pm
Back to the CTU. I am praying for my sanity, as I'll be having a lot more time to myself again. Kyle needs to go to Jacmel, so I'm being left to cover the CTU alone for the first time. God has thus far used all this time in incredible ways though, so I'm okay with it. When it's time to go home, I know I will instantly appreciate the community I have that here, is sometimes lacking.

3:00 pm
Igot my first IV. Success. :)

God is here.
God is good.
He's directing my steps and I'm excited to see where it is that I go.

Love, Janae