From June 29, 2019

A week a go Friday night, my last night in Haiti before traveling to Florida, there were two very unfortunate incidents involving three girls blatantly disobeying the house rules. Of course, one was Bency. She had been so sweet prior to this. She showed real concern for my swollen feet. But when she is not on the second floor she is as incorrigible as ever. I can correct my adopted daughter until I’m blue in the face and it will make no difference. She will continue to disobey staff and say crude things to other kids. She is exhausting…but also delightful.

From June 28, 2019

On Wednesday Billy took Berline to Bernard Meys Hospital. She has a cyst on her eyelid that keeps growing. Our Dr. Noel thought it was important to have it surgically removed because it could eventually close her eye. The doctors at the hospital confirmed our doctor’s evaluation. She will soon have the surgery, which will cost $280. When Adele was an infant, she had surgery at that hospital.

From June 27, 2019

A few weeks ago, my friend Sr. Vera from South Pasadena, California sent me a poem written by an Irish priest who lived and worked for many years in London. His name is Daniel O’Leary. After reading the poem, which I loved, I wrote Sr. Vera and told her that I had been a pen pal with Fr. Daniel for many years, but when I moved to Haiti, I slowly lost contact with him. She responded by sending me a link to a video featuring Fr. Daniel speaking at a bookstore about a new book he had written, titled Treasured & Transformed.

From June 26, 2019

This Journal was supposed to be exclusively devoted to sharing a medical update about my fat ankles. But yesterday, when I sent Tuesday’s Journal out at exactly 3:00am, I received 167 delivery failure notices.

From June 25, 2019

From June 24, 2019

I once was in deep darkness. Then came a shocking revelation in an empty church in Rome. In a flash, the God whose existence I denied became undeniably real. Not only was God real, but even more amazing, God loved me. Suddenly, everything I held to be true was upended. All props and crutches upon which I relied upon were kicked out from under me.

From June 22, 2019

“I Am,” says God. God did not say, “I Was,” or “I Will Be.” In saying “I Am,” God is saying, “I am present.”
Am I present? Or do I live in the past, replaying old scenes, clinging to old wounds? Am I present? Or do I live in the future, chained to useless fantasies and baseless fears?
God is beyond time and always present. But we look away. We look back and are hurt. We look ahead and are terrorized. In this present moment, God is facing us. In this present moment, we will no longer be victims of the past or be paralyzed by the future. In this present moment we can face God. In this present moment we can encounter God.

From June 21, 2019

Yesterday in my semi-prayerful two hours of quiet time from 4:00am to 6:00am, I spent few minutes reflecting on the Gospel reading of the day in which Jesus taught us the most perfect prayer, the Our Father. One day, Fr Michael told me how many of the kids who come to the Inn for food had a very negative concept of fatherhood. For many of the kids, their dads had either abandoned them, or beaten them and their mothers. They could not imagine God as Father. A sister serving at the Inn taught them a new way to bless themselves: “In the name of the Grandmother, the Son, and the Spirit.”

From June 20, 2019

There are days, more frequent of late, when I am so overwhelmed by what I am doing in Haiti, I question why I am here. Tuesday was one of those days when the frustrations kept piling up, one upon another, until one especially cutting annoyance made me want to catch the next plane out of this land of unnecessary suffering and unprovoked violence.

From June 19, 2019

Yesterday’s gospel reading contained another tough teaching: love your enemies. What!?! That’s crazy. You gotta kill your enemies, or, at the least, hate them. Loving your enemies makes no sense. But it did for Jesus.