Stories

Survival. Suffering. Strength. There are certain wisdoms and understandings that one can only learn in suffering. Songs that can only be heard in the pits of despair. There are lights that will never seem so radiant as when we are covered in darkness. I only know this because I have seen it. I saw it…

I was on the floor kneeling beside a woman in labor who Haiti Serve team had just brought in from the village. Holding her hand, rubbing her arm, trying to teach her to breath deeply. This team is amazing. Everyone digging deep into their pot of talents like an involuntary reaction. Humbled to see them…

 Have I come to Haiti to learn of Love? And how can three days seem like three weeks? “What is your name?” I asked. “Her name is Lise. She understands English but she cannot speak it.” “Lise. How do you spell that?” I asked. “L – I – S – E: The four most beautiful…

      Orphaned and Abandoned. Two words you hear a lot here. It started on the plane. The plane. American Airlines taking a plane almost full of white faces and folks wearing t-shirts with screen prints about Haiti’s Earthquake. Almost like a youth group going on spring break. I couldn’t help but think that…

I have discovered Needtobreathe. Maybe because I need to. Maybe because their music speaks to my spirit, and I like to dance to them in my mind. On a plane. To Haiti. Stones Under Rushing Water. That’s the song. “Why don’t we dance anymore? Why don’t we sing anymore?” I was in front of over 100…

   I think I’ve cried maybe 3 times in session. In over 15 years doing this work – I’ve cried maybe three times with a client. It’s not hard for me, normally. I am in my role of supporter, encourager, listener. But last week I cried. Needed-a-tissue cried. It came over me like a wave,…

I stand in awe. I stand speechless. I stand tall. Not because of my own strength – but because I have had the privilege of standing next to strong souls. strong hearts. stubborn spirits. The day of the Senate passing a bill that could potentially begin the steps to ending the Heart of Madness. Madness…

I washed the feet of a former child soldier today. They were scarred and scraped and dirty and beautiful. In every way. Beautiful because of the story they told. Not a story of hopelessness. Not a story of pity. They told the story of strength. They told the story of newness… “What is your name?”…

Things here seem to be triple in size. The massive loads of charcoal that I have seen on the backs of the women in Congo seem to be three times the size of other places in Africa. But it’s more than that. They don’t just carry them around on their backs or on top of…

What does a heart breaking sound like? What about the sounds of a spirit so overwhelmed with awe that it seems to be rushing like a waterfall? I wonder. I wonder these things. I also wonder to what detail I should share these stories. How much is too much for others to hear or read?…