So much to be thankful for!

 

 

Enough said, right? Our lives are so full. We have friends and family in the United States that we think about daily and love so much. We know that they are faithfully praying for us, providing for so many needs both financially and emotionally and laughing with us through this incredible journey we are on.  We have new family and friends here in Sierra Leone that love us, support us, and make fun of us when we can’t live up to African standards and generally make us feel like this is home. We are blessed beyond belief.

We spent Thanksgiving as a family. Of course, we were the only ones here celebrating, but we made a point to spend it in much the same way we would if we were home. (You know, for the kids, yeah right) If you saw my face book post, I am still bragging about my miraculous T-day feast. I cooked all day and pulled off a perfect imitation of festive goodness. Roasted Chicken (no turkeys around, boo), broccoli and cheese, beans, fried apples, stuffing, mashed potatoes, carrots and even some fudgy brownies were on the menu. The amazing portion, it was all on a large coal pot, called a wonder stove and a little on a gas cook top that you use like when we are camping. We decorated the house. Set out our best plates (which are also our everyday plates, well, they are the only plates in the house) which were beautiful, Heather Butler. We did good work! We gorged ourselves on yummy food and Skyped with our families and spent time making crafts with the girls. All in all, it was a good day.

Now, I would be lying if I said I had no mental breakdowns during the day. I love the holidays. I love being with our family. I love seeing aunts and uncles. I love cooking together and playing together. This year we missed decorating the tree at my dad’s. I missed attempting to defeat my father in law at a highly competitive, full of trash talk game of ping pong. (Don’t worry Don, I haven’t forgotten I owe you) We had conversations about what our families were doing at home and what we would be doing if we were there.

But then, we had conversations about how we love being at home. And we referred to Sierra Leone as home. We laughed and hung up our homemade decorations. (Only one tree this year, it’s crazy) We had visitors stop in just to wish us happy Thanksgiving because they had heard it was that holiday for us. We truly had a wonderful day. The happy and sad were there, but what holiday doesn’t have that?

Our blessings are so many. Our home is secure and perfect for our needs. Our friends are just what God knows we need. Our bellies are full and we are relatively healthy. We are watched over in ways we can’t know and allowed the trials that grow our faith. We are stretched and molded we are provided for and completely taken care of. How could we not be thankful?

We are most thankful for our little family. We constantly look at each other and wonder how on earth our children are turning out so well. I know, you now all feel obligated to tell us how awesome Michael and I are, but we go to bed with each other every night, we know better. There is nothing good in us to raise such amazing girls. We knew we would grow and change here and we would see changes in our kids, but frankly, we weren’t sure which way those changes would go! Never have we seen our kids blossom and grow than over the past couple of months.

A couple of months ago, our morning was flipped upside down. A desperate father, grandmother and village chief showed up at our front gate. We often get visits from people asking for help, so it didn’t seem that unusual at first. There was a terrible cholera outbreak here in Sierra Leone this year. Many people died and we were on high alert for some time. A young woman in a neighboring village had died three days prior due to this outbreak, leaving behind her husband, 2 year old daughter and 3 week old baby. The family brought the children to our gate hoping we could get them in touch with the right people who could help care for the children. Through conversation we discovered the baby hadn’t eaten since her mother’s death 3 days earlier and the 2 year old was suffering from malnourishment as well. Children here with orange hair are a common occurrence, I’m afraid, but it is one of the first signs of being underfed. We decided to take the children in for a few days until a social worker could come to do an intake.

I am going to pause this story to explain some things. We Americans often have these preconceived ideas of what love looks like and what a parent will do if they love their kids. I know, I have had these same thoughts. First, the average income here, around $1.25 a day. This is average. Meaning the population that brings in nothing most days is huge. This is a country of haves and have-nots. Not everyone has a little. Countless people bring home no money for weeks. They eat what they grow or trap or hunt. This is how they survive. The nearest “town” to us is a one hour drive and we are the only people in town with a car. The town has no factories, maybe 10 businesses, no industry. There are no jobs. NONE! So, those thoughts that you may have went to about what that father should have done, stop it. This man farms. He makes something called gari, which is incredibly hard work and occasionally he can sell some, when other people in his village find a way to get money. The man had no access to formula he had no access to better foods. He was doing all that he could do to provide for his family all while grieving bitterly over the loss of his wife. His love and compassion for his children astounds and amazes me. This father’s care for these two girls is stronger than I can understand. This is Sierra Leone. Strong, fiercely loyal, caring, compassionate, loving people, who work tirelessly to provide for and care for the basic needs of themselves and their families. My bare bones American budget, please, I don’t know poverty. It can’t be described until you look through the eyes of a hungry father at his hungry children.

Back to the story, through a turn of events, the children’s few days with us has turned into the last 2 months. Which, another rabbit to chase, if you will, if you aren’t sponsoring a child, shame on you. There are so many kids who need so much. Not new Christmas gifts or movie day, but food enough for at least one meal. Find an organization and sponsor a child, NOW, go!! I have a favorite, check out therainingseason.org. I love those kids and the way the founders and staff care for them. Back again, during this time God has made one thing blaringly obvious. These two girls are Ropiecki children, through and through. We love them. We need them. We have no doubts. This is crazy, right? We live in three rooms. NOT three bedrooms, three rooms. Our toilet is outside, our kitchen is outdoors we don’t own a tv!! Do you know how little it takes to take care for a baby? I have no baby seat, high chari, bumbo, swing, pacifier, diaper wipe warmer, crib or mobile. But she is happy and healthy. Ever potty trained a baby that has grown up in the bush and doesn’t speak English? She takes dumps in our yard on a regular basis. Sometimes the front steps and she spends a lot of time naked running around yelling Mende at us. But honestly, how many times have my kids behaved similarly? (Holly Lanius, if you read this, remember the incident with Ella in your front yard?) We are so excited to have them here. It is such an adventure and joy. When the two year old started calling Michael “daddy”, I thought I would never get him off of cloud nine. And when I pick up the now almost 3 month old and she gives me the big grin with those cute dimple flashes my heart is full. Aubrey, Anna and Ella have once again proved themselves the perfect children, when they came to us and said you aren’t really going to send them to an orphanage are you? They love us and we love them. They argue and bug each other, they giggle at night instead of sleeping and they all love each other.

So, it is with so much giddiness that we introduce Hawa and Maggie. They are amazing beautiful girls that we didn’t plan but God once again knew we needed. We have a long road ahead because adoption isn’t an easy thing here and there is a different route we will have to take, but we are confident this is our path. We can’t wait for you to meet them!

 

 

 

A rotten day

I usually try to keep my posts upbeat and positive. I don’t really know why. Maybe it’s because I don’t want my family to freak out over all that goes on here. Or maybe I don’t want to freak myself out by putting into words all that I experience. But this isn’t going to be a blog that leaves you happy or that makes you think wow, they are adjusting well. This is a blog about death, sin and sadness. It’s about poverty and hurt, pain that most of us will never know. It’s a picture of what I see so often, but don’t put into words. It is Sierra Leone.

3 weeks ago, I met for the first time a 13 year old girl on the front porch of her mud hut. This child had a younger sister about 8 and they were being cared for by their 18 year old brother because they had lost both of their parents several years ago. A child raising children…..

This, however, was not what brought me to their front porch. I went to the village to administer first aid to a few of the villagers. Nothing complex….boils, cuts and infected scrapes, simple infections and colds. And then I saw her. She was sitting on the porch maybe weighing in at 65 or 70 pounds. She was pale and obviously in pain. Michael had seen her the day before and wanted me to take a look. I stepped onto the porch and had to turn my head. I am not a person with a weak stomach. I have squeezed maggots out of a man’s arm…..I’m unflappable. But the smell coming from this small girl wasn’t anything I have encountered before. Then I moved the cloth from her stomach. Green bile was seeping from a gaping hole in her belly button. I was at a loss. Michael and I both were stunned. I patched her up and we began forming a plan for what we thought the girl needed. It took time (most things here do) but we drove her to the local clinic to see the Community Health Official……where she was promptly turned away and told there was no treatment. Michael drove to Moyamba, one hour away. They refused to take her in the hospital. After a few hours, he was finally informed there was an ambulance that could take her to Freetown for free treatment. Wahoo!! We were so happy and excited.

We got a call the next day from her brother that she was in Bo (a city 6 or so hours from Freetown, in the opposite direction from Bauya) and they needed money for a blood transfusion. Our kids have been dealing with a skin issue, nothing major, but we decided to have it looked at and went to Bo to help. Only to get there and find out the doctor who does the surgeries left the country because he was nervous about election time. There are 88 doctors in this country. That day there was at least one less. Never have I wanted 88 doctors like we did that day. This little girl was then put on a bus and shipped to Freetown to be turned away, yet again at another hospital. Another bus took them north to a hospital that promised results. All of this took place while she continued to ooze bile, her intestines were basically hanging out and she was so thin…..there aren’t words to describe this.

We got word that the little girl died. The hospital kept putting the surgery off because they wanted more money. MORE MONEY! What is the price of this little girl’s life? Somewhere around $100. She will not return to her small sister who cried and wailed when her sister was taken from her. Yet one more person has left this tiny girl’s life. This brother buried another family member, he put her to rest several hours north in an unmarked grave. The numbers have faces! The children are alone and dying. Who stands for them?

We decided a few months ago to hire full time security at our compound. We now have a day guard and night guard on duty 24/7. I know you are imagining guys walking around with clubs looking tough. Trust me they are tough, but we love them!

It is hot in Sierra Leone. Check a map, 8 degrees above the equator, makes for a hot sticky place. Seeing that electricity is not an option, you can bet that air conditioning is also not on the list of things we have. Instead, outside has become an extension of our home. It is where our classroom is. It is the kitchen we hang out in. It is the playroom where my kids romp around and play. Consequently, we spend a lot of time with our guards. They have become like family. They greet us at shift time. They check to see how we are. We’ve met their families. They play soccer with my kids. I take them food when we have leftovers. They call me Mommy Rachel (yes, this freaked me out at first. I would have been like 12 to have some of these be my children) But the name has grown on me and we truly love them.

At 7:15 this morning, a text came over Michael’s phone. I picked it up, still groggy to read a message from Patrick our guard. While he was on duty this morning, his 9 month old son died. This boy was at my gate last night. His mother came to me for medicine. I gave what I had not realizing the boy was so sick. He was smiling and giggling, although I could tell he wasn’t feeling well. This morning the smiling stopped. My heart hurts. This baby’s life just started….

I know the kind words that you are thinking, I know you want to lift us up. But frankly, it’s not about us. Looking at this young mother crying and putting her baby in a hole where dirt is tossed on his face….how do we lift that mother up?

In this area, most firstborns are not buried. Why, you ask? Because it is so common for children to die that they just go to the dust bin. This is not a culture that doesn’t love and care for their kids, but a culture who would be crushed under the weight of their loss. A world where grieving is a full time job if you let it be. A community that sees heartbreak as a way of life. Oh Jesus, be the light here.

I read a quote recently, that I will butcher, but it said something like poverty isn’t being without things it’s being without options. It’s true. There were no options for the little girl being sent from hospital to hospital looking for someone, anyone, to help. That mother had nowhere to go. After seeing the local doctor and getting the meds there was nowhere for a second opinion. There is no, I will pick up an extra shift to earn money for a really good doctor. No, I don’t like what that doctor said, I will go somewhere else. I didn’t understand poor until I saw people dying from it.

This post has a few purposes. One, I just need to vent. I won’t lie, I miss first world problems. Starbucks only serves caramel apple spices a few times a year. Target only has the shoes I want in a 7 ½. I have wanted several times to pack my bags, live in comfort and AC near my friends and family and chalk this up to a strange little time that I learned from. I am confident these pictures could fade if I can just get far enough away. But that is not where I am. And I want to get it off my chest!

It is also an honest picture of what we see. You need to know. This “adventure” we are on is ugly. It’s hard. It’s so full of sad some days I feel swallowed by it. I have been spared some of this tragedy only because I was born a few thousand miles west. A small ocean is all that has separated me from this hurt and loss. How have I lived so blind?

Now, that’s all said. Do know that we have also experienced joy and happiness like you can’t imagine. We have seen love displayed in incredible ways and God has displayed his majesty in ways I can’t describe. “Momma’s in a dark place” tonight, but I know tomorrow will bring the sunrise and a project that will hopefully save some of these lives from a similar fate of the children whose stories I shared. You know that story about the starfish littering the beach and the guy is picking them up one by one and throwing them back in the sea but there are like a million more all around. Someone says hey dude, you’ll never make a difference here and Mr. throw the starfish back says, “ I just made a difference to that one” as he throws another in. Have you heard it? Our beach is so full right now it can be hard to see the difference. But it’s there, I know.

Pray for these children. Pray for these parents. Pray for the leaders and the doctors. Pray for a divine difference.