a picture's worth a thousand words.

Some of my favorite picture moments from the last few months.

JANUARY 2011

Patricia- trying to figure out how to be a teenager, yet still a little girl.

Parachute! - love the colors.

Small Salome.

 DECEMBER 2010

Lucky and Kebbeh showing off their Christmas dresses.

Merry Christmas Sarah!

NOVEMBER 2010

Field Day at Fatu's.

Paul with the newest addition to the ORR fleet.

OCTOBER 2010

She LOVED her new boots!

Jumping rope with Ma Ruth.

New Belly Buttons

Umbilical hernias are very common in Liberia. Everywhere you go you see the signature belly protrusion. It is something I never saw, or really even heard of before I came here. It isn’t clear why there are so many, for some reason weak abdominal muscles seem to be common in this region of the world. Often the hernia is merely a cosmetic problem, but in some cases, it can be very painful and, rarely, life threatening. The kids usually don’t mind them until they are older. In fact, often the hernia becomes a comfort to them and it is affectionately called their “liver.”

Kebbeh before.

Kebbeh after.

A surgical team with Children’s Surgery International (CSI) is currently working at a hospital in Liberia. I met them last year when they were here. They found the need so intense that before they left they were already planning to return. Some of our kids had been evaluated then, even though their hernias definitely needed attention, there were many other emergent cases at the time. We left that screening with the promise that we’d be on the top of the list when they returned.

On Saturday, I drove six kids to the hospital for their pre-op appointments. The kids were nervous and excited. An outing in the pick-up with Auntie Debbie is rare, but they also knew a big unknown was ahead. One girl vocalized what they were all thinking when she declared to everyone in the car, “They coming to cut our livers!” 

Dr. Dave examines Eddie pre-op.

 At the hospital the kids were evaluated by a pediatrician and the surgeon, labs were done and admission papers completed. Two of the boys tested positive for Malaria and started treatment immediately. They were showered with gifts by the nurses and other CSI team members. The surgeries were done on Sunday-- new belly-buttons all around. All six kids flew through with flying colors. They were a bit tired and sore, but were all discharged on Monday. I picked them up from the hospital and delivered them safely home where they were greeted with cheers from the other children. After a few days of rest they will be out playing again and proudly showing off their new belly buttons.

Eddie-boy after surgery.

(I borrowed this blog post from our ORR website blog. Please go to www.orphanreliefandrescue.org to see what else ORR has been up to in Liberia. Thanks!)

(A) Moving Day

Some pretty special kiddos started a new chapter of their lives today.

You may have heard me tell part of their story before. These kids were living in an orphanage that was, according to the government of Liberia, deplorable. Their living conditions were truly unforgivable. They were always dirty. Never in school. Usually alone. The eight and nine year old girls did most of the cooking, laundry, cleaning and caring for the younger children. Often they ate only once a day. We had pleaded with the director to feed them more, to send them to school, to have an adult live with them at the home. We had pleaded with the government to close the home, it was no home. For over a year, nothing changed.

Then there was a fire. The boy's "dorm" burned down. It wasn't really a dorm, it was a dilapidated mud-brick room in an already questionable school building with a few bunks. The fire was accidental. All the boys got out. One had a burn on his foot. Thankfully they were all alive. Suddenly the government is there, removing the children (finally). Seventeen children were split between three already crowded - but miraculously different homes. Food was served three times a day. The kids could play, go to school. Life, in their limited understanding of circumstances, couldn't get better.

Not knowing that this tragedy (blessing?) of a fire would change their course, we had already started looking for another way. A new boarding school was being built. A new hope for the future of these kids. Several of them were admitted, but the school was still being built.

Fast forward six months-- to today. The school is finished. Moving day is here. I had the privilege of driving some of them to their new school. At the, not so new to them anymore, orphanage they are all ready. Best clothes on, bags packed, one last meal with the other 80+ children at the home. Joshua and Arthur can't stop smiling, instinctively they know this is gonna be good. George and Varbah aren't so sure. This place had become a safe refuge, so much better than anything they could have imagined before and they are making friends. Paul and Joe happy to go along with whatever may come. Quiet Patricia soaking it all in.

The Seven file upstairs to say goodbye. The father of the home, who has known these kids for only six months, starts to cry. "This will always be your home." I start to cry. It has been a home to them, a constant, something they never really had before. We pray together. With a crooked smile, and wiping a tear, Mr Smith fist-busts the departing children. There are whispered and giggled goodbyes from the other children as well. The pick-up is loaded with seven excited-scared kids and a few small plastic bags that hold all of their possessions.

The hour long drive gives them time to adjust a bit to the adventure. The chatter in the back seat doesn't stop the entire time. Driving fast, passing cars, a monkey for sale on the side of the road, airplanes on the ground at the airport-- these are all new, resulting in comments and giggles.

As we 4x4 around the last sand-corner and the new school comes into view, spontaneous singing erupts from the back. Seven sweet voices greet their new home, their school, their hope for the future.

Somehow I know that there are many more chapters to come...

ten years younger

I love sharing good news.

I was finally able to get a picture to show off the new Oretha...

Oretha today. I love that smile!

Oretha before.

Her surgery was December 22. She did have some bleeding complications which required a second surgery the next day to close the incision and two days of being closely monitored. I visited her a few hours after the original surgery and didn't even recognize her, she looked so young and healthy (and that is after a major surgery and large blood loss!). She was discharged after a week in the hospital and will be returning to the clinic weekly for check-ups.

Oretha and her family are SO grateful for all the prayers and money that was sent so that she could have this life-changing surgery. Enough money was raised to fully cover all of her medical expenses with some left over to buy some new clothes and shoes (she didn't have any). 

On behalf of Oretha-- Thank you so much!

more Christmas ponderings

There is always one verse that stands out to me when I am reading the Christmas story. Luke 2:19 says, "But Mary treasured up all these things and pondered them in her heart." There was a lot going on-- shepherds, angels, corrupt leaders, census taking, babies being born. Ok, one Baby. But still, he was no ordinary baby. And in the midst of it all the author takes a moment to insert this sweet interlude. Mary treasured all these things and pondered them in her heart. She didn't just go along for the ride. She was invested and didn't want to miss out on the meaning of one miraculous minute.

I feel like there is a lesson in there for me. Do I take that time? Do I treasure all the amazing things going on around me. 

As you know, I spent this week delivering Christmas to the kids at several orphanages. It is a time that is often hectic, taking it all in can be difficult. As a way to remember the week and thank those who donate towards it we make a video. It is aMAzing! I can't get enough of it. I was there when it happened, but I can't stop watching the faces, the joy, the amazement, the miracle of it all. 


Click here to watch the video for yourself, it is so much better than me trying to describe it to you.


So, as Christmas is here and we celebrate the birth of Mary's baby. The inspiration of her own treasuring and pondering, our Savior, Jesus Christ-- let's all take some time to stop, to treasure, to ponder the miracles in our own lives.


Merry Christmas!

My Christmas is a little bit different.

 I think I say this every year, but it's true-- Christmas in Liberia is just not the same.

It is hot and sticky. The bombardment of advertising and media yelling at you that it is Christmas-- be happy already, is replaced by ceaseless requests for 'something small' and reminders that 'their Christmas is on me." (In fact, I've already been interrupted three times writing this blog.)

Despite the differences, this year feels more like Christmas. (What does that mean? How does it 'feel' like Christmas?) I have been trying to decide why. What's different? This is my third Christmas in Liberia, and the first time it has really 'felt' like Christmas. Is it familiarity? Tradition? I've been here long enough to say, "This is what we have done the last few years..."

For what ever reason, there are things that make this time of year seem Christmassy to me. Wrapping Christmas presents, Christmas lights and songs and cookies and decorating a tree. Most of those things have not been available to me here in years past. But, as we say here, Liberia is coming up. Wrapping paper is being sold at the supermarkets. My neighbors have Christmas lights strung on their house. I have an oven now and a plethora of baked goods have been produced. Men are selling Christmas trees on the streets in town, carrying them on their heads, I even saw someone trying to stuff one into the back of a full taxi. I bought one for five dollars.

There is a decorated tree in my living room with wrapped presents underneath it. What?

Christmas in Liberia has also become about the Children. I guess that may be obvious, I  am here working with orphans. Each December we spend days, preparing, sorting, piling up, wrapping-- clothes, shoes, toys, apples (an apple means, I love you), for the kids. Christmas delivery days are the best. Well, they are a lot of hard work and some times frustrating. But, there is always a moment where it all makes sense. A moment where I remember why I am here.

This was THE moment for me this year. The moment where it all made sense. The moment that Lucky's eyes  met mine, her whole face-- those amazing eyes, lit up. She felt it and so did I.

CHRISTMAS!

Whether or not those physical 'Christmassy' things are making a difference this year, I am learning more and more that things being different does not mean it is bad. And Christmas is not about where you are as much as it is about who you love. I love God, my friends, family, and the kiddos here, no matter where I am in the world. That alone brings the joy of Christmas close.

PS

Just re-read this from a card my mom gave me a few months ago--

"The provision for the need you face will be met through His incredible resources."

Amen.