Defender of the Weak

Haiti is not far from my mind. I scour the news, I hungrily read the list serves I have joined. I follow the progress of the battle against cholera. I cheer on the victories in the rebuilding efforts. I pray and wonder at the next event which will catch the world's attention in this small island nation not far from our shores. Announcements that hit the airwaves surprise, baffle me. Random comments prompt unexpected tears...."they are rebuilding the Iron Market...".

In church yesterday I  wept as we sang a song in worship to the King of Kings. Sobbed, actually. In praise. And I believe, in mourning, for my dear Haitians. And for countless other people who suffer.... Injustice. Violation. Dehumanizing, demeaning treatment. Starvation. Unimaginable deprivation and disease. 

Strength will rise as we wait upon the Lord
We will wait upon the Lord
We will wait upon the Lord (repeat)

Our God, You reign forever
Our hope, our Strong Deliverer

You are the everlasting God
The everlasting God
You do not faint You won't grow weary

You're the defender of the weak
You comfort those in need
You lift us up on wings like eagles Chris Tomlin

I have witnessed and even been a part of this song in action. You're the defender of the weak, you comfort those in need......
And though my need is nothing compared to what I have witnessed, I am comforted. 
Amen.

Perfect Timing

I returned from working in the Cholera Treatment Centers 6 weeks ago, home just long enough to celebrate Christmas with my family. Then David & I returned to Haiti for one week to visit a small fishing village on the northern coast of the southern peninsula.


It was a timely visit. We had hoped to go in August of last year, but couldn't pull it off. God had other plans. The members of the group finally solidified in December and we headed out in the first week of January. This trip was very meaningful for David and I. We met several people who fondly remembered his parents from their years as missionaries in that part of Haiti. How sweet. We ate dinner in a home he had lived in as a boy. We spent the night at the retreat center where he first told me "I love you." And, we got to introduce the Haiti that we love to some people we worship and fellowship with. Great trip with wonderful new and deepened friendships.


But, in Gods perfect way, the timing that we considered delayed, was perfect. The first comment David heard as we got out of the truck was, "Cholera is killing people." Not, "hello" or "how are you"? But, "Cholera is killing people."

We were able to teach about Cholera three different times. One time was a full time seminar that went on for several hours, open to community leaders. Two other times were impromptu to a primary school and to a church packed to see the foreigners.


If we had been there in August, we would not have been there in January just as cholera was striking this village. How awesome is our God who knew all about it last summer when our "plans" just weren't working out.

In their hearts humans plan their course,
   but the LORD establishes their steps. Proverbs 16:9

Home again?

I am home again. That is to say, I am back in Sisters, Oregon where we make our home. There is snow on the ground and Christmas music in the air. A friend wants to bake cookies tomorrow and my mom is addressing Christmas cards. Usually this is my favorite time of year. And yes, celebrating the birth of our Savior takes on new meaning this year. But, I admit, I am not buying into the usual festivities. We are opting out on the tree this year and will go with evergreen garlands instead. We are exchanging only a few gifts and are just hanging out together.
Where are my thoughts? In Haiti. With my Haitian (and otherwise) colleagues who are fighting the good fight against the deadly disease called cholera, putting up a solid defense against the conditions which make the Haitians so vulnerable to its ravaging effects. I recall situations and patients who have impacted my life forever.
My thoughts are with the volunteers waiting for their flight itineraries to be confirmed so they will have a turn to serve. I think of the staffing decisions and the potential hires who will help the staff at Samaritan's Purse get through this epidemic.
I wonder how the election turmoil will be settled. Will there be a successful recount? Will there be a peaceful resolution? 
So, how do I reconcile the ache of Haiti with the excess of our land of plenty? I cry out to God for the dear Haitians. I long for Haiti to know the compassion of the Lord. After all, the fact that we are working against all odds to spare people the miserable death of cholera's devastating dehydration and organ failure is because God has not forgotten her.

O Haiti, return to the LORD your God,
   for he is gracious and compassionate,
slow to anger and abounding in love,
   and he relents from sending calamity. 

In that day the mountains will drip new wine,
   and the hills will flow with milk;
   all the ravines of Haiti will run with clean water.
A fountain will flow out of the LORD’s house
   and will water the valley of banana trees.   Joel 2:13 & 3:18, paraphrased                                                                    

Heroes

So many new friends. Doctors, nurses, paramedics and EMT’s from the US and Canada, UK, Sweden, Ecuador and Haiti. With rare exceptions, we have never met before. We are bound together by the desperate need confronting us and by the common call of our Lord Jesus. A little humor helps too.

Dr. Jeff and Mary Ann, husband and wife team, trauma surgeon and nurse from Alberta, Canada

Joany, a nurse from Ontario, Canada

Drs. Stephany, pediatrician from Indiana and Karen, ER doc from Tennessee

Dr. Trey, obstetrician from the States

Ben, paramedic from Indiana

Dr. Lance from North Carolina with Franz and Oliver, translators

Nurses Priscille, Natacha, Victoria and Micheline proud of  their new certificates

A Horrible Situation Redeemed

The last several days I have had the privilege of teaching Haitian nurses. These are the nurses at the front lines of this battle against cholera. Dr. Kara Gibson gave several us the task of brainstorming to develop simple lessons on hygiene and aseptic technique, rehydration and patient care documentation.

Our Haitian nurses come to us with four years of education and a variety of experience. For many, this is their very first job. Others have some experience in an outpatient setting, but not with IV’s. Then there are a few seasoned veterans among the ranks who can start an IV in the most elusive vein and who have the experience to help us tease out diagnoses which often coincide with cholera.

I love that Samaritan’s Purse is not only in the relief business, but also looks  toward development. The old “teach a man to fish and you feed him for a lifetime”. I also consider it a personal challenge and joy to work myself out of a job.

After all, long after we leave, these Haitian nurses will still be here fighting the good fight against poor health amongst their own people.

So, we begin with a diagram of a stick figure nurse teaching her patients and their families good hygiene, the importance of oral rehydration, and how cholera is spread and can be prevented. If each patient and family member returns to their community and teaches their household and neighbors, who then do the same, then the efforts will be multiplied and the results life-changing for an entire country. We plant the seed that one nurse can make a significant difference in Haiti.

We also point out the obvious: these nurses are becoming experts in the prevention and treatment of cholera. God is transforming this horrible situation into a gift of great value for these nurses. They will be forever enriched professionally by this clinically challenging experience.

We end each short session with the presentation of a simple certificate, complete with a stamp from the Samaritan’s Purse office. Each nurse will keep and use these treasured certificates when they seek future employment.

My favorite moments? When they become animated, jump at the chance to demonstrate removing an IV, or when they smile and laugh at my Kreyol. But the best moment was yesterday when they sang an impromptu song to thank me. No matter how much I give these dear people, I always come away more than blessed.

Sweetness.

Keeping Our Sanity

In the midst of so much suffering and overwhelming need, the tender and humorous moments help us get through the grueling hot days and long nights. They help us keep our sanity in an otherwise surreal world.

Seeing a recovering child sit up, eat crackers and laugh at a silly face drawn on a balloon.

Catching a glimpse of a chaplain stroking the cheek of a child frightened by an IV insertion.

Holding a limp child who needs some TLC while her mama nurses her younger sibling.

Watching a father tenderly care for his small children while their mother lies ill on the adjoining cot.

Wondering which patient has the strange cough only to realize it is the cow just outside the tent.

And then there are the definitions unique to this setting:

Positive TapTap Sign:  patient arrives at Triage in a TapTap with horn blaring, lights flashing; have the IV ready to go

Pest Control: Mama hen leading her chicks around the camp to devour the hundreds of gnarly grasshoppers

Multi-tasking Generator: powers floodlights, dries freshly cleaned cots, dries hands, warms IV fluids and offers heat to patients chilled by the night air and cold IV fluids

Gourmet Survival: MRE’s, Meals Ready to Eat. Shelf life 12 years. Mmmmm.

Decon: process of cleaning every possible contaminated surface with diluted Clorox; including shoes, scrub clothes, pens, stethoscopes and bodies.

BRAT diet Haitian style: ripe banana, white bread, bouillon with plantain or bread, white rice

Rehydration Cocktail: Oral Rehydration Solution (ORS), straight up (no ice)

Baby Food: crushed crackers mixed with ORS and perhaps ripe banana

These are the moments which make the scope of this disaster less terrifying.

How much more?

I often wonder how much more can a people take. Haiti has suffered floods, hurricanes, a devastating earthquake and now, the killer known as cholera. And that is just in the last several years.

It is also known for its extreme poverty, political corruption and devastated environment.

How do the Haitians persevere in the face of such overwhelming odds?

The Haitians I work with and love put their trust in someone bigger than Haiti’s problems. They put their trust in the almighty God, ruler of heaven and earth. In Jesus Christ, the Alpha and Omega, who will right every wrong and wipe every tear.

I think of Franz. He calls me sister, I call him brother. He is married with three small children. He accompanies us to the CTC (Cholera Treatment Center) in Bercy four nights out of each week. His job is that of interpreter. But that does not begin to describe what he does every night. He helps recognize the sickest, he carries the frail, the helpless, and he assists the nurses as we start life-saving IV’s. He even comforts us when we feel overwhelmed by the size of the task at hand.

He recently went home to visit his family in the south of Haiti over election weekend. We shared a meal the evening of his return to base. We just sat silently next to each other, comforted by each other’s presence, each knowing the other understood what we could not speak. I asked Frantz if he had tried to tell his wife what he had experienced. He said “M pat kapab”….I couldn’t. Those of us who have seen what we have seen, who have had to do what we have done are forever bound by our shared experiences. Not unlike war veterans, for whom I now have a deeper respect.

We cling to one another, but more so, we cling to God. He is our righteousness.

The salvation of the righteous comes from the Lord; he is their stronghold in time of trouble. The Lord helps them and delivers them; he delivers them from the wicked and saves them, because they take refuge in him. Psalm 37:40

Put on the Full Armor of God

This battle against cholera is a spiritual battle.

I think of the mom who sang to the Lord while she labored to deliver her stillborn infant; she recovered and went home later that same day.

I consider the woman who was slowly deteriorating before our eyes. We released her to her family for transfer to another hospital better equipped to diagnose her problems She needed medical help which was beyond the scope of our CTC (Cholera Treatment Center). Instead, they took her to a Voodoo doctor. She died later that same day.

I remember the young man asleep at the foot of his ailing mother’s bed, waking from a heinous nightmare and fleeing the camp, knocking over IV stands and startling patients and their families as he ran by. The Haitians all said it was a result of Voodoo influences.

That same night, we heard Voodoo chanting off in the distance.

Yes, we come with lots of IV solution fluids, some clinical expertise and servant’s hearts. But the work we do is the work of the Lord. It is only He who saves. We press into His presence, waiting for a word from the Lord, a reminder that when we are weak then we are strong, Perhaps He will whisper that He loves us and approves of us. Sometimes we just need to be still and soak in His grace. Then we can put on the armor of God.

For our struggle is not against flesh and blood, but against the rulers, against the authorities, against the powers of this dark world and against the spiritual forces of evil in the heavenly realms. Ephesians 6:12

mattpowellphoto.com Used with permission of Samaritan's Purse

Though He slay me, yet will I hope in Him

Photo: www.mattpowellphoto.com Used with permission of Samaritan's Purse

She was 25 years old and nine months pregnant, happily anticipating the birth of her fourth child. Then, cholera struck like lightening. She was admitted early Wednesday morning with severe dehydration.
She wasn’t surprised by my news; she hadn’t felt the baby move since the day before. Losing a baby is part of life here, something to accept and move on from. In fact, she was able to sing to the Lord between contractions, still finding something for which to be thankful.
She progressed rapidly and gave birth to a beautiful, perfectly formed but lifeless baby girl. She had a chance to see and hold her, but also needed to collect herself to recover from this deadly disease so she could return home and care for her three other children.
While I observed her over the next several hours, I cleaned up, put unused supplies away, prepped the infant’s body for burial and made rounds to make sure that the rest of the staff were handling their responsibilities alright.
She was stable, and I could find plenty of other things to do, but God prompted me not to forget her. I went in to check on her about 2:30 in the morning. I can’t tell you how thankful I am that God had me check on her. She was tossing and turning, agitated and cramping everywhere like many of the other cholera patients I have seen when they are on the verge of cardiovascular collapse. Her pulse and respiratory rates were dangerously high. What was puzzling was instead having of a weak and thready pulse, hers was bounding. We confirmed a dangerously high blood pressure accompanied by hyper reflexes, suggesting pre-eclampsia, a serious complication of pregnancy. 
Was she about to start seizing from severe pre-cclampsia? Or was she about to go into shock? What to do?
Lacking more diagnostic tools, we had no choice but to rely on the Lord to guide us. With His guidance, we started a second IV line and ran in a liter of fluid as fast as possible. She began to respond as we had hoped. Praise the Lord!
By the grace of God, the next afternoon she was able to go home to her children.
How thankful I am that God watched over our little OB ward that night. I consider it a miracle that in the midst of a cholera treatment center, in the middle of the night, we were equipped to help her. He is a personal and loving God who knit her infant daughter together in her womb and knew the days He had for her. He smiled on that mama as she sang songs of praise between labor pains. It would have been very disheartening to lose both infant and mama. He was gracious to us.

I know that the Lord secures justice for the poor and upholds the cause of the needy. Surely the righteous will praise your name and the upright will live before you. —Psalm 140:12 & 13

Though He slay me yet will I hope in Him. —Job 13:15

Responding to Cholera

Haiti Cholera Appeal.mov

Meeting Jesus, Face to Face

My son keeps telling me that I should expect to meet Jesus in Haiti. I have met him. In this case, His name was Lexie, but among ourselves, we called him “Legion”.

An outcast of Haitian society, this homeless old man suffering from schizophrenia somehow found his way to our clinic to be treated for cholera. He was more at home lying on the hard ground than on a cot. It was hard to tell how long his nails had gone untrimmed. But they were long enough and thick enough to dig a hole a few feet in diameter and several inches deep.

Other patients were frightened by his behavior and we found it very challenging to care for him. But our hearts embraced him as over the days we found creative ways to meet some of his basic needs. It soon became apparent that while his cholera was improving, he was soon going to die.

We cut his nails with wire cutters. During one of his lucid moments, chaplains with BGEA, prayed with him to receive Christ. We gave him a secluded spot under a tarp to get out of the elements. We bathed him and dressed him as tenderly as if he was a family member and he allowed us to move him to a bed. Then one night his breathing changed into the pattern that warns of impending death.

Joanie sat with him for hours as his breathing became more labored. She couldn’t bear for him to die alone. I had the privilege of spelling her from time to time to care for her other patients.

Then we began to wonder, why was he still lingering? There was no earthly reason he was still alive. Then it occurred to me; God was not finished with him yet. Reminded that hearing is the last sense to go and knowing the language, I was moved to sing one of the only Kreyol songs I know, Tout bagay va bien, Lakay Papa mwen. Everything’s alright in my Father’s house. I began to pray for him in Kreyol that he would rest in his Father’s house, in His arms. I prayed that he would realize that he was a precious child of God and that his heavenly Father was just waiting to look at him face to face and say, “I love you my precious child”.

Then I saw it. A single tear gathered in the corner of his eye. I wiped it and another formed. Moved to tears myself, I tenderly spoke and stroked his face, telling him it was ok to go to his heavenly home. He died several hours later, but not alone.

My son is right; we met Jesus face to face as we cared for this man.

'Truly I say to you, to the extent that you did it to one of these brothers of Mine, even the least of them, you did it to Me.' Matthew 25:40

Jesus wept

Photo by Matt Powell, photographer, Samaritan's Purse

Running a 150 bed ICU with a skeleton crew, in the dirt, under tarps, in blistering temperatures. Starting two intraosseous lines and one intravenouss line in the same infant. Prepping a fresh corpse. Setting up cots for a steady stream of critically ill patients arriving one right after the other. Working  without understanding the language. Watching as patients repeatedly fill the basins strategically placed under their beds with rice water. These are daily realities.
To say this work is demanding is an understatement. Most of us push through our shift, not thinking about the reality of the challenges and conditions before us.
We seem to take turns letting down our guard and feeling the impact of what we are living through.
When that happens, we cry together. Like when Lazarus died. Jesus wept. But not when He heard the news of his death; He wept when he witnessed Mary's grief.
I ate breakfast this morning with Dr. Tom Wood, staff epidemiologist with Samaritan's Purse. He was on the team that developed oral rehydration solution in 1963 while stationed in the Philippines with the Navy. His team developed ORS for the annual outbreaks of El Toro, the same strain of cholera attacking Haiti. He told me this morning according to the UN,  an acceptable mortality rate in a Cholera Treatment Center is 5%. He then told me that our mortality rate is 0.7%. 
This could only be possible with God! 
So, we are Jesus to each other and we remember that He has won the battle.

I will help you find your way through the night

Here in Haiti with Samaritan's Purse we are fighting a battle. Our visible enemy is irascible, extremely irritable, wrathful, hot tempered, quick to strike. The enemy is cholera. The route of the word "choleric", meaning "easily angered, hot tempered". It is volatile and violent. It attacks swiftly, does its damage and moves on.
We fight another battle against a hidden enemy. The enemy of overwhelming inadequacy, fear and discouragement.
Yesterday when I was exhausted after a 13 hour night shift, I was emotionally and spiritually spent. I went to sleep listening to a movie soundtrack containing a song which contains the following lyrics:

When you are a soldier I will be your shield
I will go with you into the battlefield
And when the arrows start to fly
Take my hand and hold on tight
I will be your shield, 'cause I know how it feels
When you are a soldier

When you're tired from running
I will cheer you on
Look beside you and you'll see you're not alone
And when your strength is all but gone
I'll carry you until you're strong
And I will be your shield 'cause I know how it feels
When you're a soldier

I will be the one you can cry your songs to
My eyes will share your tears

And when you are a soldier

And the enemy is closing in
I will fight with you until the end

When you're lost in darkness I will hold the light
I will help you find your way through the night
I'll remind you of the truth
And keep the flame alive in you
And I will be your shield
'Cause I know how it feels
When you are a soldier

I wept into my pillow when I heard this song. Even though I was mentally and physically exhausted, my spirit was refreshed by my loving Heavenly Father. The same loving Heavenly Father who cares for each one of the Haitians who have fallen ill with the dreaded cholera. That He would enter into our suffering to sustain and comfort us is humbling, to say the least.

I spent a few hours this morning getting my bearings at Samaritan's Purse Cholera Treatment Center in Bercy before  I return tonight for a long night shift. Bercy is a small community just north of our base. The CTC  now consists of 12 tents with 8 to 12 beds apiece. These beds are wooden cots with the requisite hole cut out of the middle, lined with the ubiquitous SP blue tarp. A basin sits strategically placed underneath. To say the conditions are rustic is an understatement. Even so, every precaution that can be taken is being carefully adhered to.
When we arrived this morning to relieve the night shift, all of whom were worn out, we had to quickly adjust our North American standards to third world (or fourth? fifth even?) survival mode. This adjustment can be difficult to say the least. 
The realization that not all will be saved doesn't sit well for some of us. If they get to us in time, if an IV can be started, if there are no underlying risk factors or complications, they have an excellent chance of returning home. Once they have ceased vomiting and are rehydrated enough to urinate, off they go to make room for the next stricken person. This morning I sent 6 people home. Their beds were immediately occupied.
And then there is the fear in their eyes. Will I get better? When? Will my family be spared? What if it comes back?
Only Jesus can speak to their fears. That is the primary reason we are here. At least that is why I am here. I am not an infectious disease specialist, epidemiologist, IV whiz, or public health expert. I know a bit of the language and have decent assessment skills. But more importantly, I know Jesus. He can save. He can heal. Heavenly Father, let me Jesus to these who suffer.

Have I not commanded you? Be strong and courageous. Do not be afraid; do not be discouraged, for the LORD your God will be with you wherever you go. Joshua 1:9

"For such a time as this"

I've been hearing the phrase, "for such a time as this" quite often lately. Do you ever have moments in your life when you can see that many things in your experience has prepared you for just this moment? Now is one of those moments for me. 


Who would know that a new nurse-midwife yanked from language school on the heels of a revolution to assist with trauma cases would one day return there to serve the people of Haiti in their fight against cholera?  Who would know that a nurse-midwife reluctantly thrown into international community health nursing and later trained to teach WASH principles would have the small opportunity to combat a deadly water-borne disease? 


Just received word that I leave Friday for Haiti as part of Samaritan's Purse's most recent response to the cholera crisis in Haiti. I will be working in their clinic in Cite Soleil, a slum in Port-au-Prince. I believe I will be working as a nurse, but could be working in several different roles.  


To say I am excited to go, is not quite accurate. That is not to say that I am reluctant or afraid. And yes, there is a bit of excitement as I think about the challenges that lie ahead. But mostly, I feel very humbled and sobered. That God would pluck me from my comfortable and privileged life here in the foothills of the Oregon Cascades and trust me to serve Him in this way fills me with awe.

For if you remain still at this time, relief and deliverance will arise for the Haitians from another place and you and your family's house will miss the blessing. And who knows whether you have not attained your present position for such a time as this?
 Esther 4:13-14, my personal paraphrase

But right here, right here for this time and place

You can live a mirror of His mercy

A forgiven image of grace

            Wayne Watson, “For Such a Time as This”

God is Gracious

Haiti is digging out of a quagmire of mud as a result of flooding following the narrow miss with Hurricane Tomas. God heard the cries of His people there and spared them a direct hit. Thank you Father. You are gracious. Now please spare them the ravages of a spreading cholera outbreak.


God is also gracious to our family in so many ways. David and I returned from a trip to Africa. He spent six weeks photographing for an evangelist, an adoption agency, a water ministry, a missionary vet and the small medical team I was a part of.


One of our sons has safely returned from Cambodia and Thailand where he served with YWAM on an outreach mission of  three months. He is now focusing on "friend" raising to return to YWAM on staff. His hope is to co-lead teams to Haiti within the coming year.


Our other son, a self-proclaimed "prodigal", has returned to the fold. Our family had a the sweet privilege of participating in his baptism with his small group at Calvary Chapel in his college town. God is so faithful!

For I am confident of this very thing, that He who began a good work in you will perfect it until the day of Christ Jesus. Philippians 1:6

So, what is "home", anyway?

I was just on Facebook reading a comment from a friend who grew up in Canada, now lives in Ethiopia, used to live in Rwanda and who worked with me in Haiti. Phew! Her grown children are in North America, and as a family, they are only occasionally all on the same continent, let alone, home.


Reminds me of the Uttley family this summer. David has been in Haiti again, Dominican Republic,  Vancouver, BC and home. Nate has been in Hawaii, Thailand and Cambodia. Josh has been away at school and work. I have been home and in New York helping my mother-in-law move to Florida.


I am preparing for a mission trip to Uganda in October and one to Haiti in January, with another possible trip or two to Haiti, and possibly one to Ethiopia thrown in there as well. And I haven't mentioned David's schedule of Uganda, Rwanda, Haiti, Haiti, and possibly, Haiti. Oh, and did I mention Bali and Nepal? Well, you get the idea.


When bringing my mom up to date about David's and my itineraries, she cracked a joke about how she could not keep up with all the coming and going. Me neither. 


What a season of transition it has been. A son launched into a life of full-time missions. A long-lost best friend re-entering my life. Local friends downsizing, moving out of the area, short-selling their houses (not so long ago I had never heard of a "short sale"), planning international relocations. A husband who is out of the country more than he is here. It has been challenging to keep my focus on what truly is my "home".


I am so thankful for solid friends who allow me into their worlds, even as those worlds are shifting. I am thankful for a mother who has been a living example to me of  the importance of putting my relationship with my husband above all others, even my own mother. I am thankful for sons who enjoy hanging out with their mom. I adore a life partner who has a heart for others and an eye for capturing their spirit in pictures.


So, what is "home"? For me, it is savoring the moments with loved ones and clearly recognizing that my true home is in the Lord Jesus Christ. The total acceptance and redeeming love He shows me over and over is the best sense of home I have ever, can ever, will ever experience. And sharing this sense of home with loved ones is the best!


Getting back to Haiti, which is what prompted me to start this blog in the first place, you may have noticed the shift in earthquake relief work to the need for transitional housing. This need for a solid roof and walls to call home is very real. At the same time, when asked what they lost in the earthquake, they almost always mention the family members they lost before they mention the loss of their house.


I'm definitely rambling here. I guess I am trying to say that although I have a roof over my own head, the shifting of everyone around me makes me think about what is really important here. It expands my heart and challenges my thinking. 

Back from traveling

It has been over a month since posting something to this blog. David returned from his second trip to Haiti since the earthquake and then the two of us had some much needed time together.
He was asked to photograph the launch of the Turkish "Fire Bible". While there, he also had the opportunity to film 17 testimonies given by Turkish believers which will be posted on their church's website. It took courage for them to be so transparent.
We were able to travel together for three weeks. It was just what we needed to reconnect with each other and clarify the vision God is giving us to encourage believers in other parts of the world. God is on the move and we want to be a part of it.
Speaking of which, Samaritan's Purse posted today part one of five videos featuring David's second trip to Haiti. Hope you enjoy it.
Return to Haiti