THIS NEED HAS BEEN MET!
Sometimes working in Haiti feels like I’m in the middle of the ocean, swimming towards a shore I cannot see. I pick a direction that feels right and hope that it is. Then a wave comes along and I feel like I can’t go on anymore, until the rest of quiet water renews my strength and I set out once again, towards this invisible finish line that I know must be out there somewhere. I help one just to turn around and find 3 more in the same situation. It is draining and sometimes it is really hard to keep going.
One of the situations in this country that overwhelms me the most is the desperate need of quality care for the disabled and mentally ill. Obviously, ideal quality care comes from biological families but in a community where providing for a neuro-typical child is difficult at best, parenting a special needs child is almost impossible. Orphanages in Haiti are overrun with children who have been abandoned due to their disabilities.
A few miles from my home I visit them. I walk up countless steps and down long, dark hallways to the third floor of a building into a back room where 5 of the forgotten live. They are in various states of contortion and pain, left on a bare piece of foam, lying in their own vomit and feces, covered in flies. They are God’s precious children, in some of the most deplorable conditions you could imagine.
It was there in that room, at the end of the hallway on the 3rd floor of a green building that I first saw him…
He was easily the smallest child there and his skeletal frame drew my interest. I held him and I knew that his situation was serious but I had no idea just how much so. The baby in my arms weighed significantly less than my 5 month old son and when one of the nannies told me that he was 5 YEARS old I almost dropped to my knees in disbelief. Instantly, my eyes filled with tears and I choked back the urge to cry. Standing in a room full of injustice, crying does nothing, crying is not action. These children did not need my tears, they needed me to do something! They needed commitment, that when I walked away that day I would not forget the things I had seen and the eyes that had stared into mine.
And is became so. They haunted me as I went about my day, while I ate my lunch and when I tucked my own babies into their warm, clean beds that night. The unfairness that plagues this world was more alive than ever once I learned their names. Once I held their hands. Once I saw their pain.
One hand I held, one little boy in pain, one name I learned that day became so etched on my heart that I almost couldn’t think of anything else. It became an obsession. I knew that I would never be able to just sit back while he remained there. I began to question a few people about him and learned a bit more about his story. I pushed a little further and to my surprise, without even putting up much of a fight, I was given permission to try to help this little boy named Moses.
I picked him up on a Tuesday morning and held this fragile child in my arms on the back of a motorcycle, speeding home as quickly as I could. Every second felt like an eternity until I could truly take a look at him. I undressed and bathed his tiny frame and dressed him a newborn sized diaper and inside I screamed, “HE IS 5 YEAR OLD”. I weighed him on an infant scaled and stared at the numbers in disbelief, unable to understand what I was seeing 4.36kg (9lb 6oz) and inside I screamed, “HE IS 5 YEARS OLD”. I believe that Moses has cerebral palsy. He aspirates anything he tries to take by mouth, his health situation is very serious. I put down a feeding tube and watched as calorie filled formula slowly drained into his shrunken belly. I did the best that I knew how but in the end Moses was beyond the help that I alone could provide. On Wednesday night Moses was transferred to Project Medishare Hospital in Port Au Prince. He will receive lifesaving care in the best hospital I could find for him and I pray and trust that he will be well, one day. I will follow his progress and support him in any way that I can while that happens.
I still feel like I might drown before I reach that unseen shore but I swim on. Tonight it is with renewed strength because I saw God reach down and draw out of the waves a little boy named Moses and I know that hope is not abandoned yet.
Moses’ care will be ongoing and probably costly. I cannot begin to anticipate how much it will all add up to but finances will not stop me from providing everything that this country has to offer for my precious boy. If you would be willing to donate towards Moses’ medical care you can do so by making a donation below. Thank you, for valuing this life and fighting for him with me.