The years that the locuct have eaten.

It was the summer before my thirteenth birthday. I cringe at the memory. Inside my head I am embarrassed to even think about it. But today I am reminded.

It was 1968. Born to Be Wild was a hit that year. As were other great (not!) songs like 'Yummy, Yummy'. Chambers Brothers 'Time' was popular as well. People Get Ready was on that same LP. Wish I had understood that song then. Inagattadivita. ( Is that even a word?) was popular that year. And Christian Rock and Roll legand  Larry Norman was with a band named People and sang 'I love you.'

I had finished my first year of public school. Finally after seven years of Catholic School my mother had relented and enrolled my in eighth grade. That summer having always been around the friends of my older brother and sister I found myself experiencing my first 'date' and then my first 'boyfriend'. It wasn’t really a 'date' because as I understand it now it was sick. He was 19. That was a one night carnival gig. I let him kiss him. (Yuck) Shortly after I found myself with his younger brother. A mere 17 year old. We rode around for aimless hours in his car. He removed the center console so I could sit by his side. Born to Be Wild was his favorite song. We went to bars. Yes. I was served beer in these bars. Yes. I was 12. I smoked about a pack of Marlboros a day. All the while I thought I was a good girl because I was a virgin and I was not using drugs.

I was well acquainted with the drug culture at that time. There was always someone around me sniffing glue, smoking pot or hash. LSD, mescaline, and speed were around. As well as heroine. I told myself I would be a 'good girl' because I did not want to hurt my mother. Honest...I thought I was good. I continued to date older guys for a while. It is a wonder I did not get into some really big trouble.

My father left when I was four. My mom worked six days a week. She loved me I am sure. If she were alive today I would not write this. I still would not want to hurt my mother.

All this is just a brief history to get to today. Today. Those years that the locusts have eaten have been redeemed. The curse has been broken and I am free from that ugly part of my past. Today I sat in the front row of church and cried as I watched my oldest grandchild

led worship. She is exactly how old I was that summer. She is beautiful and could easily pass for a much older young woman. It was easy as I watched her to see how it was possible that I could date such older guys. Like her I did not look 12. But that is where the comparison stops.

Katie has been raised in a intact family. Her parents love each other and they love her. My daughter has managed to work hours that allow her or my son in law to be home most of the time. Katie is bright and confident. She is also kind hearted and sweet spirited. She is not sheltered but she is protected. As I listen to her sing and play her guitar I wish that I had come into a relationship with Jesus early and spared myself these embarrassing memories. But I also consider the love of my Daddy God who reminds me "You have done some things right." My children never had to know the pain of divorce. They never had to fill a Daddy void because they had a Daddy to tell them they were good enough, smart enough and pretty enough. While far from perfect I am mother to three awesome women who love and serve God. Somehow in spite of me, God allowed me to be part of His plan for my family. The yesterdays are now redeemed by the todays. I no longer have to be ashamed. I am part of the story of Katie standing in front of the church and leading God's children into worship. Leading me into worship. Tears freely flowing. Knowing the love of my Daddy. Redeeming the years.

Second Hand Smoke

It has been widely studied and documented  that when a non-smoker is exposed to  cigarette smoke  on a regular basic has a higher than average chance to contracting lung cancer than a person who is not exposed. 
Today I think of this as I am speaking to my son-in-law's mom. The  things we have shared together over the last seven years might only be seen as toxic to those who might study our case.

As grandmothers we have dealt  with the tragic news that our grandson at birth was not ok. We have walked the halls of Duke Childrens  hospital watching, waiting and praying as Josiah underwent open heart surgery at four days old. 
We watched and waited for two years for the arrival of our grandson Nico as the adoption process stretched on and on. We would see the photos and get the reports and know how much he needed to just be home...but wasn't.  
We have watched our children sell off their home, their car and all of their possessions to move to the poorest country in the world. WITH OUR GRANDCHILDREN! 
With each of these events we would breath a sigh of relief as events unfolded and life became more 'normal'. But that 'normal' was never long lived. Because for whatever reason that second hand smoke was determined to affect us. Our phone calls would confirm that each of us were choking back our fears and even our doubts from time to time. Then the air would clear and again we would be hopeful.
Josiah's birth. GASP! Nico's adoption. GASP! The decision to move to Haiti. GASP!  The actual day they moved to Haiti. GASP! The earthquake. GASP! (Big gasp.)  Malaria. GASP! The ministry split and betrayal. GASP!  Josiah's illness. GASP! Gwenn's staph infections. GASP! Middle of the night home invasion at gunpoint. GASP! GASP! GASP!! The bandits on the road to PAP that robbed them in the car. GASP!   The continued land dispute. GASP! And of course all the GASPS that went along with the every day problems  raising  children with attachment and trauma issues. 
And then as the smoke clears we breath easier for a time and pray this time will be different. This time it will get easier. But somehow it is never long lived. We have seen Malaria. We have seen den-gay. We have seen staph. We have seen the results of a lion fish sting. An allergic reaction to a wasp sting. We have seen the most awful pink eye that one can imagine. And with each new illness there is an inaudible GASP! inside our hearts. And when these things happen we turn to each other. Our grandmother/mother hearts just need to know that there is someone else who 'gets it'. 

And now Chikungunya.   Spell check doesn't even know about it! But this latest 'second hand smoke' is a tough one. Haiti is in the middle of an epidemic and once again we are watching our children and grandchildren suffer. The news says in a week you will be better and you will be immune. We know better. We know that everyone is relapsing or reinfecting and there does not seem to be an end in sight.

Today Wildarne has a head to toe rash and a fever of 103 F. She has had a fever for 3 days. Nick spent the night vomiting. Fritzie also relapsed. And as we sit on the sidelines we breath in this illness into our minds and hearts and GASP! once again for air. Thankful once again we have each other to balance our thoughts and concerns. Praying that the air will clear again and life will get back to normal. You know- Haiti normal. The kind of normal that is riddled with 'normal' problems like no electric. Manifestations where people set up firey road blocks to demonstrate the lack of electricity. School closures and 'normal' Haitian problems. But there is a smoke screen that clouds our vision and we can not see even the Haiti normal now.

People have asked me "Don't you want them just to come home?" or say "They just need to come home." Even with the 'second hand smoke' I can say "No way!". They are home. 
Sometimes we Christians seem to think that when we become believers that God will pave the road for us to have a comfortable or at very least a 'safe' life.Sometimes we even get angry when bad things happen to us. But the Word of God says "it rains on the just and the unjust". To choose the 'safe' way is not always choosing God's way. Look at the early church. History tells us of the awful deaths that the apostles died. While they lived they faced danger and hardship everyday. I think of the 'second hand smoke' their families must had inhaled. I think of Mary the mother of Christ and how she must have groaned in agony when she saw her son suffer. But we never read of her telling Jesus to just come home. I think of her 'pondering these things in her heart' and I am glad God has given me another woman to share my heart with. I don't know if I could just ponder these things alone. 

Breathing in this 'second hand smoke' has definitely changed my life. There is always a nagging cough that is just below the surface. There is a constant tickle in the back of my heart and when the phone rings and I see on the display that the call is from Haiti or from Nick's mom my first thought is "What's wrong?" When I awaken at 2 AM for no apparent reason I start of pray for my family in Haiti because 2 AM is when bad guys like to rob people. 
On the other hand I think I am maybe even a little hardened to the hardships in Haiti. Things that used to concern me pretty much don't. When I first went to Haiti the whole voodoo culture pretty much freaked me out.Now I just turn on the noise maker on my phone to drown out the drums so I can sleep. I also don't 'worry' as some might perceive the word. I do think about the things going on there a lot. I do pray about the things going on a lot. I do talk about Haiti a lot. But I am equally sure that if God has brought them to it that He will lead them through it. Fighting the affects of this 'second hand smoke' has brought me closer to Jesus much as a person who is suffering a physical illness will draw closer to Him. So in the end of this tale I thank Him. I thank Him for counting me worthy to be close enough to the smoke to breath it in. Even if it is uncomfortable and even if my whole person smells of smoke. I want to be as close as I can be to the place where Jesus is glorified in all things not just in the easy things. I pray for the time to come quickly when there is once again some fresh air and my family in Haiti (and Nick's mom and me) can breath deep and have a time of refreshment and health. Until then I will continue to trust and be thankful for each tiny breath of fresh air.  I will thank Him for each day of health that He affords our family. I choose to be thankful because I know without doubt that God is good all the time. God is here even when we can't see Him. 
Breath of God fall on us.    

Looking back...Looking forward.

Tonight as I was thinking about my trip back to Haiti this week I was remembering..
It was five years ago next week that I took my very first trip to Haiti. I was filled with wonder, excitement, fear, idealism, faith and more questions than answers. Now, well I still feel that way only it is no longer blind wonder, excitement, fear, idealism or faith. Still I have more questions than answers.

 

Kristi, Gretchen and Gwenn at home dedication

2009

Street view from the guest house.2009

Street view from guest house.2009

 That first trip in April of 2009 was with a team of family and close friends . We were going to prepare a home for Gwenn,Nick, Nico and Nia. This was to be the home where they would raise their growing family. We cleaned and painted, built, laughed, and prayed. The walls were fresh and clean and many of the household items were in place. The children's books awaited them in their freshly painted rooms and we felt good. We were glad that just as we had been a part of their 'old' life in the US we were now part of their 'new' life in Haiti. We also did not yet know the expression TIH. This is Haiti. That expression has been a term on which one could loose or gain their mind for the last five years. Everything in Haiti is fluid. There are so many factors beyond ones ability to anticipate let alone control. Slowly you begin to understand that normal is not a word to be grasped. Everything changes and sometimes will even test your faith. If you cant accept  this expression you will loose your mind. If you can accept this you will be able to laugh at things ..well things that are not really a bit funny.You have to. Or loose your mind. Your choice.
The freshly painted, newly dedicated home was never to be lived in by Gwenn and Nick. The landlord backed out of the contract and they were left searching for a new home. They found one in downtown Jacmel and that was where I stayed on my second visit and got to meet the first three of the new children.This was a cute little bungalow with a very leaky roof. Which was fine if it didn't rain. (check out this video)
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=moGvAUJdoDM


In this home the family started to be reinvented and in October of the same year I got to visit and meet Fritzie, Wildarne and Prisca. Watching how Nico, Nia and Josiah went with the flow was heartwarming.

Oct 2009

Family was being established. It was a pretty calm time and I was excited to really be experiencing Haiti on the community level. Going to the market with Gwenn and into local barber shops. Working with a street kid named Stanley who stole my heart. Watching Fritzie and Nick climb canape trees and playing with Bigsbee the most adorable puppy EVER!

But because TIH a few weeks later Bigsbee was poisoned. He and his puppy brother who was visiting died. And because Stanley the street kid was stealing he was no longer allowed in the yard. And because 'this is Haiti'  life did not stay the same.

What happened between my second and third visit would forever rock our world and change our life.

 

<iframe width="420" height="315" src="//www.youtube.com/embed/Qj32UR-eC-Q" frameborder="0" allowfullscreen></iframe>

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Qj32UR-eC-Q

 

 

 

 

In January of 2010 the earthquake hit. A phone call turned my life upside down and the next six months were spend in a frenzy of taking care of Gwenn and Nick's children after they came back to the states, fund raising for the ever mounting needs in Haiti , collecting diapers, starting a small business for fund raising purpose  and trying to stay somewhat sane while holding tightly to faith to sustain me.

  July 2010

July 2010

July 2010

 

And the visits continued. Nearly every six months. For five years. There was the trip I missed when I had cancer. On that trip my team went down. Gwenn and Nick were robbed that week in the middle of the night in there bedroom. TIH

I think I am glad I missed that trip.

And so over five years my hair has grayed.And the children have grown.Over the last five years the Haitian children have learned a lot of English. I have learned a little Creole. I think they have learned that I am not going away.

We are family. Like Haiti itself the family is fluid and changing and you never know what to expect.

I'm ready for this next adventure!

 

 

 

                                                                               Sept 2013

Yves and I July 2010

 

Yves  and me Sept 2013

And I look back at photos of myself from the last five years and think "Crap I have aged." There is no doubt in my mind that TIH has given me a bunch of white hair. But because TIH... I really don't care. I am glad to watch grandchildren gow. And to do that I must age.  I'm good with that. So when I head back on Thursday I don't know what it will look like. I have my plans. Build a chicken coop. Visit with my Deaf friends. Go swimming in the blue water. And hang out with my Haitian/Haitian-American/America grandchildren.

I never know what adventure might await me because in Haiti you live in real time/Narnia time. And you never come home the same.

Father's Day
I wrote this to share at a Woman's Luncheon. After all these years my own memories still have the power to bring me to tears but I am so thankful for God's continued power to heal my heart.

For a long time the subject of fathers was a sore one for me. Like so many other children my father left.

I had just turned four years old. I remember the day. My brother and sister were in school. They didn’t know that we were moving into Nanny’s house. Because my mother did not have a driver’s license my father was driving us. We had to stop at the Police Department for him to pick up his paycheck. When he opened the car  door out cat jumped out never seen again.  Our beloved dog Lobo would not be making the move with us. I lost my cat, my dog and my Daddy on the same day. My mom was filled with despair having been betrayed by her husband and the woman she had believed a friend.

As the days turned to weeks we moved away from town to a rental home which was closer to my mother’s sisters and brothers.I felt the ‘sting’ of being ‘fatherless’ when the little girl down the street came over and took my bike from the front yard and later said “Since MY DADDY fixed it, it is mine.” I wanted so much to have ‘my daddy’ be the one there to do the fixing.

Though my father only lived 90 miles away to my child mind it was a far, far way off. We saw my father one or two times a year. While my mother struggled to put food on the table my father moved in with ‘the other woman’ and lived well. He had a cabin cruiser and drove a Cadillac.

But still I longed deeply for a relationship with my father. As the years past and this need was not satisfied I lost hope and turned that need into hatred. At least that is what I would say. It was the era of 60s and everything was about peace and love. I would say “The only thing I hate is hate. But I hate my father.” I needed to hate him. It was easier than loving him.

As with many girls who do not have a healthy relationship with their fathers I filled my ‘daddy void’ with unhealthy relationships. It is only by the grace of God that Steve and I were married shortly after I turned eighteen.

During my childhood I attended Catholic school. I did have somewhat of an understanding of Christ , in fact, I would say I loved Him even then. Jesus was safe for me. I understood Him like a brother relationship. Three years after Steve and I married my sister introduced me to Jesus as Lord and Savior. I was shy about this  but accepted with joy. God the Father was not as easy for me. While I grew in my faith there was still a Daddy hunger in me.

One afternoon while the children napped I was vacuuming the pine needles up from under the Christmas tree when a wave of sorrow flooded over me and I burst into tears and cried “Daddy! Why did you leave me?” And so began months of finally dealing with my broken childhood. It may have been triggered by my own children climbing on my husband’s lap and giggling and playing. Or when Steve told the children how their hair was sleek and was like “spun gold”.

While driving alone in my car one day the Spirit of God said to me “Remember that dream?” I hadn’t. Until the moment. But now the raw pain and fear of my childhood recurring nightmare flooded back. I dreamed, many times, that I was outside playing with my best friend “Lisa”. She fell from the slide, hit her head and died. I buried her in the sand. For a very long time I did not know if it was real and did not tell anyone because I believed it to be my fault. I cried at the memory. Then the Sprit explained the dream to me. My ‘best friend Lisa’ was my parent’s marriage. I thought it was my fault that they divorced and did not want to admit it or let anyone else know.  Now as an adult I could understand that I surly was not to blame and was able to let go of at least that.

And then soon after I was lying in bed when I was in that twilight that comes just before sleep and I heard a voice in my head that said “Do you remember?” And I sat straight up and said “YES!” And I was 3 or 4 years old again and I was sitting on my Daddy’s lap on a rocking chair that I remembered from my childhood home. I was nestled down in the crook of his right arm with his other arm draped over me. And when I said “Yes!” The voice said “How do you feel?” I answered “Safe.” And the voice replied : “That’s me.” For the first time since that day when the cat jumped out of the car I knew the safety and security of my Father’s arms.

All those long years that is what I was truly seeking.

 

The word of God tells us : Psalm 68:5-6

⁵ A father to the fatherless, a defender of widows,
is God in his holy dwelling.

And:

1.   Zephaniah 3:17

The Lord your God is with you, the Mighty Warrior who saves. He will take great delight in you; in his love he will no longer rebuke you, but will rejoice over you with singing.”

The word tells us that we are His beloved. It tells us that he loves us. He delights to be our father. Not because of who we are or what we have done but because we are His and that’s enough!

I hope that most of you have had wonderful relationships with your earthly fathers. But no doubt some of you still carry in your heart that “Daddy pain”. I believe that God wants me to tell you “Daughter, you are my child. I have loved you from the start. I will love you til the end. You are beautiful and I want to rock you in my arms.”

My father testimony is not quiet finished. I believed when God spoke to me my inner healing was complete. But there was more…Many years later when my father was married to his third wife (who was younger than me) he came for a visit. With him were his wife and young children. I watched as he positioned himself in a rocking chair. I watched as his young daughter climbed up on his lap and nestled herself in the crook of his arm. Instantly I saw him as a fallible man who had himself  had a deep Daddy void in his life. At that moment in my heart I completely forgave him. It was not enough to make peace with my heavenly Father I needed to forgive my eartly father.

I was blessed to pray with my father in his final days. I am grateful I was able to tell him so many of the things I had never spoken out loud.I was honored to be able to be with my father as he berated his final breath. I am awed to think that finally he got his healing when he opened his eyes in heaven and his father welcomed him home.

If this is not your story let Father’s Day truly be a day of thanksgiving. If this is your story let this be a day of healing. Finally..do you know a fatherless child? You do..we all do. Open your eyes and hearts to their tender hearts. You may not be able to ‘father’ them but you can encourage them. You can love them.  You can help their mom to cope with the day to day . You can be family. You can…you can…you can…will you?

 

The Grapevine

There are moments in time that lock into our minds, into our hearts. Precious moments that are just under the surface or perhaps deep in our subconscious that surface to reconnect us to the very core of who we are.
Before I married at age 18 I had lived in 17 different houses. My parents divorced when I was four and my mother, my brother, my sister and I moved to the Hamptons where my grandparents and the extended family had settled. For this reason we moved sometimes seasonally to be able to afford the rent which were very high in the summer months. With  all of these moves there is still one house that pops into my mind when I think of 'my childhood home'.
The Rat House. It was a beautiful home built in the 1700s. It had low ceilings, slanted floors, hiding places behind the chimney and rats. The walls were about 12" thick allowing lots of places for the rats to  nest. In the summer months the lived in the fields that surrounded the house and were only driven in when it was too cold to live outdoors. Several occasions we had 'face to face' meetings with these rodents including the night one decided to warm himself in the covers of my sister's bed...
But that is not my story today.

It was necessary for my mother to work full time. It was also necessary for us to take care of ourselves while she was out. But the 'Rat House' had so many adventures to offer! The horse chestnuts made for great playthings as we set up entire villages. Each nut was pryed out of it's sharp spinney shell and the beautiful smooth nuts became our beautiful people. Sometimes there would even be 'twins' revealed when we opened the shell much to our delight. We also set up 'olympic' training camps with pole vaulting, weight lifting and broad jumping using rocks and sticks and lots of imagination. Collecting pennies we would line them on the railroad track and put our ears to the rail as we waited for the train to come. On the rail the sound could be heard a long way off. Digger of course would tease us and pretend he did not hear it coming. Effectively scaring us and causing the engineer to blow his whistle.
It was on one of these walks to the track that we discovered the wild grapes. They were large, round and purple. I am guessing something along the lines of a concord. They were sour with seeds but we collected all we could and I imagine ate more than we should. The day was delightful. It must have been late summer or early fall. I would have been six years old. Fifty years ago. But that moment in time is as clear as if I were there right now. It was perfect. I still sense the closeness I felt to my brother and sister and the pride of telling our mother about our awesome find.
I moved to Manteo, NC seventeen years ago. After a year we bought a home on the north end of our little island. It is a 'homey' place that meets up with wooded undeveloped lots in the backyard. The brush that we have left on the boarder of the property provides a buffer of sorts and gives us a sense of privacy. Yesterday I was working in the garden and was doing a little 'walk around' on our property. It was then that I saw them. Big beautiful wild grapes. Not unlike those of my childhood. These would not be the exact variety and are somewhat sweeter than those of my memories. In the moment I saw them I was carried back..back in time, back in miles, back into the deepest place of happiness I could remember from a difficult childhood. Thankful does not truly express how I felt seeing these beautiful clusters..but that is part of it. Thankful for a childhood rich with memories of the simpler time. Thankful for my brother and sister and the bond that goes from the cradle to the grave. Thankful that my grandchildren will pick grapes like I did and pucker their lips at the sour sweetness. Thankful for the moments that define the years. The moments that attach us and carry us through difficult times in our lives and connect us with cords that can not be broken.

I HAVE SO MUCH TO SAY!!

Recently I have not had too many things coming up that I felt a 'need' to blog. Once in a while something will simmer just below the surface but not quite come to the surface. Not so today. In fact there are three blogs wanting to be birthed tonight and I am not sure yet wish direction to go. But there is one common thread. Each blog was conceived in prayer. A story that I came across yesterday that I wrote twenty eight years ago...a prayer I had for Gwenn and Nick... and a prayer journal entry that I happened upon..I will choose the last to be the first.
This blog "A Grandmother's Heartbeat" began as a way for me to share about my family and more correctly my grandchildren. So that is what I will share tonight. A pray for my grandchildren. What follows is part of a journal entry:


I pray that they will all come to know you at an early age. I pray that they will have the heart and mind of Christ. keep them from temptation and the evil desires of this world. Create in them a place that will only be satisfied with you. Make them a witness to their generation. (the following is what brought me to this blog)
For Katie- a sharp mind and a sweet spirit
For Nia- the ability to reach far to touch the lives of wounded children
Micah- for grace and laughter
Abbie- the gift of friendship
Josiah- great strength and patience
Nico- peace and assurance of your love
Evie- a merry heart and a kind spirit.

Mostly Lord give each the gift of salvation. I ask that you would be raising up Godly spouses for each of these dear children. my babies. my heartbeat.

I love that I recorded this pray. And here is why- it took me a little while to realize that I prayed this prayer BEFORE Josiah and Evie were even born! We had not met Nico yet as he was still in Haiti waiting to come home to Gwenn and Nick.It was written on May 5th, 2007. Five years ago this week.
Katie was 5 years old, Nia and Micah were 3, Abbie was 2. I had some idea maybe about the older ones..but some of these things must have been straight from the heart of God.
Katie is a very smart girl but the thing that impresses everyone is that she has a very sweet spirit..
Nia - When this was written it was not even a plan that her family would move to Haiti. When they did and when children started to enter their home Nia was the one to warmly welcome them and love them and comfort them. She has the gift of empathy that 'touches the lives of wounded children'.
Micah: I don't have a specific answer for this prayer except that maybe he needs a lot of grace and good humor to live with 3 sisters!
Abbie: only a baby when this was prayed but Abbie has become the outgoing and friendly child that makes friends easily and loves them dearly.
Josiah..born  needing open heart surgery he was born strong allowing him to overcome and heal. And patience..well that was for all of us dealing with that little rascal!
Nico..Nico is always talking about the love of Jesus. He is a Jesus lover BIG TIME..before I ever met him God knew that his little heart would be tender to the things of God.
And Evie..remember she was not yet born : A Merry heart..for sure..a kind spirit like her mom.
For those of you who know my grandchildren I know you can testify to these truths.

God answers our prayers when we are lining up our will with His. If I had prayed "Lord make them the best "whatever" I don't think that He would have answered that prayer. Being a dancer or musician or football player while not bad things in themselves  are not  important to God. He is more concerned with the condition of our heart. He desires to give us gifts and fruits not talents and things. Hard work can get us talent and things. Work can never get us Love, Joy, Peace , Patience, Goodness, Kindness, Gentleness, Faithfulness or Self Control. Have you ever tried to love some one that you can't stand? Have you tried to make yourself joyful when you are in the pit of despair? Have you tried to have peace when your world is falling apart?/ You may grasp fleeting moments but you cannot attain any of these attitudes on your own.
Lest I go off in 100 different directions (note title of blog "I have some much to say".) Let me get back to my point. First - We need to remember how important it is to pray. Then we need to from time to time go back. Remember what you asked God for and then thank Him for answering you.
I don't know why after all these years I am still so amazed when I see what God does. Amazed and delighted. Pray for your baby before he is born. Before he is conceived. Pray for your husband before you meet him. Pray that he is growing in faith and patience and wisdom and integrity. Pray gifts and fruits into the lives of your children and grandchildren and into your own life. God wants to answer these prayers. He loves to delight you. He is waiting for you to ask. And then thank Him.

I thank You now Lord for the qualities that you have sown into the lives of the children and I pray for all the other grandchildren that came into my life since I wrote that prayer journal. Thank you that you have carved their name on the palm of your hand.

The gospel and love translate without words.

Nana is  avèk ou always. Jezi is avèk ou always.
In the three years that my heart has been turned toward the island of Hispaniola I have longed to communicate with the population of the Haitian people whom my daughter lives and works with. I have studied with http://www.pimsleur.com/Learn-Haitian-Creole lisening to CDs in the car and repeating after the speaker pharses like "Would you like beer or wine?" and "No, I don't want to go to your house I want to go to the hotel." I have practiced reading and speaking the Haitian language of Creole using the online tutorial at http://www.byki.com/lists/Haitian-creole/01-quick-start.html and last winter when visiting Gwenn and Nick I hired a Haitian tutor to work with me every night after the children went to bed. In the afternoons they would help me with my homework and laugh at how badly I butchered their native tounge.
I learned the important things like : "Childen, come." , "Children, eat." and my personal favorite "Settle down" which is something like "poze". I used this a lot at meal time when the children's voices would echo off the walls and I would tell the children "Poze! You are hurting Nana's ears. They would laugh and tone it down a notch for a minute or two.
As I am learing more creole the children are learning more English. So we are meeting somewhere in the middle. Except for Manita.

Manita, the youngest girl in my daugther's home is a spunky little spit fire. She will run up to me rambleing full speed as if by some magic I would not have the same response I had ten minutes earlier: "Nana pa konprann kreyòl." (Nana does not understand Creole). She continues to ramble and then will finally get Nia to tell Nana what she is trying to communicate. She will climb up on my lap to have me read her a story (in English) and we study the pictures together and share the names of the objects with each other. I have told people I love them when I meant to say "What is your name?" No harm done ...right..?
I have connected at different levels with each of the Haitian children whom I consider my grandchildren. Some seem to have no doubt I am part and parcel of this whole 'family' thing. All of them know that when Nanny comes there is likely to be some surprises in her overstuffed bags. And I am thankful for each of these precious children in my life.
Everyone knows it is not right to have 'favorites'. I really don't favor one more than the others..but there is one whom I have a special bond with. I don't understand it very well but I think it has something to do with my brother.
Digger had a tough childhood. When my father left he felt rejected and abandoned. It made him angry and bitter and tough. And fiercely loyal and protective toward my sister and me. He was sometimes mean as a hornet. But I knew that I knew that I knew that he was there for me. If he caught you smoking a cigarette he might put it out on your stomach ..but he did have to make you not want to smoke. Reasonable actually. But back to Haiti...
The first time I met Yves was on my first visit after the earthquake. He was twice orphaned and living in a refugee camp alone before he came into my daugthter's home. He was angry and bitter and mean. But..when I would be struggling to get up in the back of the truck he would be the one to hold out his hand to help me up. He would pat the seat beside him and say "Nana" and get angry if anyone else tried to take that spot. But he totally won me over the morning that I was preparing to leave to come back to the US.  We had a long ride over the mountains to the airport. Our ride was leaving at 4 AM. As I rounded the stairwell there sat Yves. Sitting and waiting. Waiting to say goodbye. I was beyond honored. I was back with my brother and I wanted more than anything to be able to communicate freely with this young man.
As fate would have it and God would allow I went 14 months between my last to visits to Haiti. A lot of growning happens in 14 months. Especially when children who were once under nourished and living on the streets are now living with three meals a day and sleeping in a bead. Many of the children were maturing and becoming teens. Voices changing, taller, stronger...growing up. Yves while growing up on the outside was still struggling on the inside. His behaviour caused many problems in the home and full time staff was hired to 'look after' him. He isolated himself from his family and his peers by him angry outbursts. He needed to become responsible for his destructive behaviour.
When I arrived in Haiti last month the bond I had with Yves continued. He wanted to please me all the time. He would jump to carry things for me and anticipate my needs and rush to meet them. He wanted to work by my side and was eager to learn whatever I would teach him.


The next day when I had to say good bye to him was agony. I wanted so much to say so much...  I told him that God understands. I asked him if he missed his family. He started to cry. I asked "Do you remember your mother's name?" He said "Yes". He told me the names of his mother, father, sister and brother. And he continued to cry. And I cried with him. I put one of my hands on my own heart and one hand on his and told him "Nana is avèk ou always" ( Nana is with you always) and then the hand that was on my heart I extended to heaven and said "Jezi is avèk ou always" (Jesus is with you always.) As our tears ran down our cheeks the other curious children began to huddle around whispering about the fact that Yves was crying. And then with a motion from the front gate his ride was ready to go. He said " I have to go now." We hugged and he turned and left.
Having worked in youth ministry for many years I knew there was so much left to say and I felt like I had failed him. For all my practicing and parroting my words were just not enough.
Re-entry was a  little harder this time for there was so much more I wanted to do. It was a great trip on so many levels. But coming to church that first Wed night I was still feeling such a burden for Yves. I asked Pastor Rob, who had been a troubled youth himself if he would pray with me. The power of the Spirt of God was palatable. He prayed against the powers of darkness that held him. He prayed for his mind, body and spirit. He prayed that the power of God would fall on him and he would be delivered... and he prayed..and then he prayed some more.
The following night as bible study I asked for prayer again not willing to stop praying until an answer came. And we prayed.
The next day Gwenn wrote me a simple email. "Great news!" was in the subject line. The night before Yves had gone with the family to a revival meeting at one of the camps. He asked Christ into his heart. I read the email through sobs. I messaged Pastor Robb and the Brandi who leads the Bible Study with her husband. God's faithful hand was so powerful.
I do believe that God used me to plant seeds in Yves heart.My faltering words did not matter.My words were not important.  The grandmother  seed that says "I am with you." The seed that says "Even if you are a jerk I love you. " The seed that says "You can." That was what God trusted me to give. I believe God used Pastor Robb. I believe He used the Bible Study group. I believe the prayer of agreement broke down strong holds that needed to come down. But more than all of these I believe that God placed Yves with Gwenn and Nick so that he could be re parented and come to understand 'family'. God knew that Yves would come to know Him. He also knew that the road to healing and wholeness would not be accomplished with one trip to the alter. Each day Yves will have to wake up and decide this day whom he will serve. So glad he has a family to help him to make good choices.

Tomorrow Yves will get baptized. Nia will be baptized as well. Two very different stories. One never changing God A God who is not a respecter of  language. His gospel is not understood with words.For He speaks to the heart. And  now ...the story begins.