Sam D Senior Photos [Quick Look]

I am going to pretend Sammy isn't going to be a Senior.  I've known her since she was 7.  What a beauty she has become and still one of my favorite "kids."  More to come soon!

Gabriel Wedding {Quick Look}

yeah, I couldn't resist...I still have to go through the other 500 photos but had to just get two up here!

Congratulations, you two, I couldn't be happier for you!

  

 

Baby Josephine {Quick Look}

I feel like I've been out of the saddle for a long time.  So when I had the chance to photograph a newborn...I JUMPED at it!

I've actually never photographed a newborn (except for my own) and I discovered that it is not as easy as the pros make it look!  Baby Josephine (only a few days old at the time) did not want to sleep!  But when she did, oh man...she worked the camera!  :)

Enjoy this little quick look.  I'm looking forward to sharing the rest soon!

Isaias & Lenae {Quick Look}

I was so excited to take these photos on Tuesday!  Isaias has been a friend of ours from the first day we stepped on this island 7 years ago and when Lenae joined the GO family, it was an easy fit!  I can't wait to share the rest of their photos but enjoy this quick look until then!

Photo of the Week 4/2-4/9

I was walking through The Hole with one of the short-term mission teams and as I passed by a little alleyway, I saw her.  I am rarely taken back by anything in The Hole anymore but for some reason she made me stop.  She hardly noticed me at first but I don't like to take pictures of people without their permission so I quietly greeted her in creole and asked if I could take her picture.  I snapped a shot of her and her son and then asked in Spanish how old he was.  No response.  She didn't speak Spanish.  I pointed to him and then held up a number one, then two, then three.  She shook her head and held up the number one.  One month old.

I am not sure why she struck me so.  I've seen a Haitian woman before.  I've seen a Haitian baby before.  I've even seen a Haitian woman bathing a Haitian baby before.  But she caught me unexpectedly.

One of the biggest commonalities our two cultures share is motherhood.  And I can't even tell you how much my eyes have been opened since I've become a mother myself.  And although I only stood at her doorstep for twenty seconds, I couldn't keep her out of my mind for hours after.

I wondered about her life and the things she did daily.  A simple task like bathing a newborn can be a little more challenging in a washbasin with cold water.  Her son clearly was not enjoying himself.  I thought of my own babies during bath time in a comfortable baby bath shaped like a cradle with warm water and lavender-smelling suds.  Neither of my kids ever made a peep during their baths.  In fact, I would suffice to say it may have been their favorite time of day.

I wondered if she had a husband that cared for her like mine does.  Someone who supports her dreams and encourages her in all aspects of her life.  Do they lie in bed at night talking about the funny things their other kids say or the new noise the baby is making now?  Do they go through the next days' agenda, planning out who is going to do what and where help is going to be needed? Do they even have a bed?  Or an agenda?

Does she have a mother that adores her and who sacrificed everything so that she could go to school, play sports, indulge in creativity and art?  Or a father who taught her how to shoot a perfect free-throw or who played catch in the front yard as the sun was setting on the day?  Or sisters who fought with her, like all sisters do, but when push came to shove would drop everything to be there for her?  Did she even have a mom? or a dad? or sisters?  Were they there when the Earthquake hit?  Did they make it through? Did they only come to Santiago because everything they had in Haiti was destroyed?

I know nothing about her and I have never walked a mile in her shoes -- or an inch, for that matter.  But for all I know she is happy.  Basking in the glow of being the new mom of a healthy baby boy.  Going about her day, checking things off her mental list of things to do, taking one moment at a time.  Something as simple as bathing her baby; him, exercising his voice box -- her calm and peaceful, reminded me of how many bath times I've rushed my kids through.  Sometimes raising my voice at them because they wanted to play longer than I wanted them too.  In no time at all, her little newborn will be walking and talking and in no time at all I will be sending mine off to college.  

I think it's time I stop and smell the lavender suds.

Photo of the Week...3.9-3.16

If you hop in a van and take a short ride from our neighborhood you enter a small community just on the outskirts of town.  Structured buildings and street vendors turn to cow pastures and wooden shacks. The road is chaotic with potholes and loose pieces of concrete -- a reminder of its out-in-the-middle-of-nowhere status.

When arriving at so many barrios on this island I almost always have to take a deep breath in and prepare myself for the heartache that festers in me long after I leave.  Los Perez is not one of those places.  Although the signs of poverty are everywhere, a sense of peace lingers still.  I don't know if it is the humble people that live in the community, the rickety path you have to take to enter it or the laid back personalities of the children...but whatever it is, it is good.

I never feel anxious or worried about what will greet me.  In fact, I know there is one face that I will always look forward to seeing.  I've never met anyone that smiles with their whole self like he does.  He is never short on hand shakes or hugs and he always responds to a simple "how ya doin'" with "todo uva" or our version of "just peachy."

He knows every child in his nutrition center by their first and last names and knows where each of them lives.  He always starts their mealtime ritual by teaching the kids scripture.  I have witnessed first-hand, 70-some children re-sighting bible verses that most adults wouldn't even attempt.  He excitedly points out an 11-year old girl who has memorized 34 scriptures and counting.

Pastor Nico grew up in the church and always felt a real connection to God.  He watched his own father preach from the pulpit every Sunday.  He recalls a woman in his father's church who would always entice him to come to sunday school with the promise of a piece of candy.  It was that candy that kept him coming back.  It was that candy that brought him to a place where he heard God's word.  It's because of that candy that he knew God was calling him to be a pastor.  Nico started his ministry in Los Perez with that very same type of candy.  He knew that all he would have to do was get the kids to the church and God would do the rest.

And the kids came.

Photo of the Week...2.14-2.20

I remember the smell of freshly cut grass.  I remember the feel of the stadium lights shining down on me.  I remember the emotions filling me up as I put my arms around my teammates for the last time.  Taking in each face, each moment on the field, each touch of a soccer ball I felt on my well-worn cleats. I don't remember every game I ever played.  I don't remember how many goals I scored or how many girls I kept from scoring.  I don't remember every field I played on or how many miles I traveled.  What I do remember are the people that poured into me.  The people that shaped me into the person I am today. The relationships and bonds that formed as the result of a game.  

A group of men, living in all parts of the U.S., traveled this week to the Dominican to honor a friend, a mentor and a brother who lost his battle with cancer.  I never met Tommy Carter Barnes but this week I saw his legacy lived out through the lives he poured into.  These men worked from early morning to early evening demonstrating batting stances, proper throwing technique, and teachings on waiting for the right pitch.  They hugged and high-fived and fist-bumped a group of Dominican boys eager to learn, not only to be great baseball players, but also to be Godly men of integrity, discipline and character.  This group of North Americans have committed themselves, not just to the group of young boys in our baseball academy but have also committed to our four, full-time baseball coaches as well.

For families, and especially young men in this country, good, male role models are hard to come by.  That doesn’t mean they don't exist, it’s just not the cultural norm.  But on a baseball field lined with apartment complexes and broken down buildings, four men reminded me of how important investing in others really is.

Gamaliel, Rojas, Franklin and Jose Luis have become fathers, brothers and mentors to 210 young men desperately seeking someone to believe in them.  I have seen their dedication as they walk past my house every morning around 8:30 and don't pass by again until sometime after 5:00.  They always walk by with baseball players in tow who are asking questions, playing practical jokes on each other, laughing and practicing their swing in the middle of the street.  I had the unique opportunity this week to watch these four in action.  They don’t just show up at the field and do their “job” and hurry home.  They sit with the kids, share their lives with the kids and above all, they are building lasting relationships with them that these kids might not have elsewhere.

Each of the four men have their own stories; some growing up in the church, others growing up on the wrong side of the tracks.  But the common denominators between these men are the transformations that Christ did in each of them and a group of men from the United States who have committed to pouring into their lives so that they can pour into the lives of others using baseball as a catalyst.

Redemption Through the Eyes of a Little Girl

I have trouble with the hard questions, just like anybody else.  I serve a God that many people refuse to believe in because of the evil that wreaks havoc in our world.  I've seen hurt in people's eyes I can't erase.  I've heard stories that keep me up at night.  I know how people feel when they want to believe but just can't.  

I am no different.  

I don't understand why little boys are beaten or why fathers leave their families.  I don't understand why men's obsession with sex leads to prostitution and sex slavery.  I don't understand why children go hungry and thousands die every day.  These are all things I don't understand.

But what I have come to understand over the last decade is that my God is working ever so meticulously to restore a world he created and a people he fiercely loves.  It may not be on our time table or accomplished in our agenda but he works, without growing weary and never ceasing.

Every time I am on the drive to La Mosca I mentally prepare myself for what I will enter into.  We pass through the bustling city with vegetable venders and cute clothing boutiques to a community where trash burns, naked children roam the streets and people pick through garbage for a meal.

The summer of 2012 a medical group went to La Mosca to do a clinic for the children in the nutrition center.  We saw the usual cases of coughs and colds, skin infections and respiratory issues.  But as the day was coming to a close a young boy walks in carrying his little sister.  The boy looked healthy enough, although not wearing any shoes.  I looked him over wondering if he just came in for a check up or if he had other business at the nutrition center.  

As the blonde-headed baby he was holding turned around my heart instantly hurt and I did my best to not show it on my face.  In his arms was a child that looked to be no more than a year old with sparse hair, sunken eyes and skin that was literally sloughing off.  I walked over to them and holding back tears I touched the little girls' face.  She didn't react.  Not a smile, not a wince, nothing.  Just staring blankly at me with dark eyes.

I walked them over to one of the doctors and they sat down.  The horrified look on her face said more to me than if we had exchanged words.  She listened to her heart, checked her nose and ears, looked at the swollen, red skin and the pieces that were flaking off.  The doctor's expression changed from being horrified to being angry.  Her face reddened as she said that the child was in the final stages of malnutrition.  It wouldn't be long before her organs shut down.

I held a stern face as a tear began to fall from the corner of my eye.  I translated to the brother in the gentlest way possible about his sister's condition.  He sat stoic as if I had just told him my favorite color was green.  Everything in me wanted to snatch the little girl from his tiny hands and run away with her. But I've been here, in this moment, enough times to know that me adopting every child who is mistreated is both impossible and unhelpful.

We sent for the mother, a local prostitute and mother of six, and when she arrived I burned with anger.  I wanted nothing more than to give her a piece of my mind but quickly moved my thoughts to what would be best for her daughter.  With the doctors' help I explained the fate of her daughter if there was no intervention.  The mother sat there with an emotionless expression barely looking at the little one on her lap or any of us.  She told us her daughter was almost two and a half and we all tried not to react to what seemed to be impossible.

She walked out the door carting the little girl on her hip as if she was a piece of luggage and not a fragile child.  I felt the urge to rescue her, thinking to myself that when I returned to La Mosca again I would hear news of her passing.

A few months later we visited again and again the little girl came in with her siblings, no change in her condition, but at least still alive.  This time there was another staff member with me who was just as enraged as I was and we started talking to Pastor Luis about options.  Calling the police for child abuse?  Calling social services to have her taken from the home?  Asking the mom if we could adopt her?  All of these options Pastor Luis said would cause a lot of problems in the community and especially for the church.  People would view it as the Pastor ripping families apart and sticking his nose in business that wasn't his to be concerned with.  We talked to the older siblings and told them to talk to their mom.  And that was it.  They were out the door.

Fast forward to this week.  I saw "La Mosca" on the schedule again.  My heart sank.  I mentally prepared myself for the inevitable.  It had been three months since I visited and I was sure the little girl was gone.  Standing in the nutrition center I watched all of the kids pile in, scanning the room for a tiny little thing with sparse, blonde hair.  Suddenly, I saw a familiar twelve year old boy, carrying a blond-headed baby.  Her face turned toward me, just like the first day that I saw her, but this time bright eyes and chubby cheeks greeted me.  She walked, yes walked, to her spot on the nutrition center floor and began to eat.  I looked her over, every ounce of sloughing skin was gone.  Except for a few remaining scars her skin almost glowed.  I kneeled down next to her and touched her cheek and this time, she smiled.  A proud smile, like she knew what she had done was something special.  Like she knew she was giving this girl with her big, clunky camera...hope.

I know people wonder what they could possibly do to right what is so wrong in this world.  I know people wonder how a God that is supposedly so good could sit back and watch his children suffer.  But I know, as He has taken me on this intimate road of knowing Him, that His plans are so much grander than anything we could ever imagine.  Even when we don't understand Him, He is still there working. And if a doctor hadn't decided to come on a missions trip and find a small way to right what is so wrong in this world, that little girl wouldn't be here with us today.

I believe whole-heartedly that God could have wiped away all of her infirmities on His own but He chose to use us, not for his benefit, but for ours.

Photo of the Week...7/17-7/24

we'll just call this week's photo of the week, broken heart: week #2.

although i cannot share all the details of this story, just trust that it's a good thing you don't know them.  and although it would be easy for me to make this entire post about how unfair life is and how awful people are, God showed me very clearly that regardless of what humans do, He is still in control.  He will take what people intend for evil and make it good.

***

as he strolled into the clean, church building you could almost cut the tension with a knife.  people's eyes were already welling up with tears, although we were trying hard to not let him see.  he calmly joined the silent group with a tentative smile on his face.  i tried to smile, wondering how on earth he could even muster one up.

this week was for him.  and although others were there, he was the inspiration.  a deaf teenager, living in a trash dump, never learning an actual language to communicate with others.  on this island, children with deformities or disabilities are often cast aside like the daily trash.  they are not cared for.  they are seen as a hindrance.  most of the time they are taken to a government orphanage so someone else can deal with them, that's if they aren't aborted first.  but Yordy's mom loves him.  maybe not the way some judgmental hearts might want her too, but she loves him the best she can.

as spanish signing cards were waving around and new conversations formed with hands and expressions, his eyes lit up with hope.  he wasn't the only one anymore.  there were people here that wanted to give him language.  that wanted him to know that he is anything but a castaway.  that he has value and that he belongs to a kingdom that reigns above the dirty river his home sits next to.

i watched him closely, looking for the remnants of his recent horrific situation.  instead of angry or hurt eyes, he smiled so often that i was blown away by this young man still so filled with joy.  but there were moments.  when no one was looking, and just i was watching, the smile would slip away.  his eyes would look downward and his mind would wander.  remembering.  but almost as quickly as his smile left it was almost as if his heart reminded him that today was a new day, and his smile reappeared bigger and brighter than before.

i can't really explain all that those few hours taught me in a room full of people, signing a language i barely knew.  but God showed me through a deaf teenager whose future, according to this world, holds nothing but disappointment and ridicule, that joy can be found in every moment.  even amidst our worst nightmares, God has a redemption plan bigger than we could ever imagine.  and His grace extends beyond language, culture or circumstance.

Photo of the Week...7/10-7/17

i could feel it in the pit of my stomach.  the sinking feeling that God was doing something that was going to hurt.  he was going to break my heart all over again.

as our van trampled through the pitted dirt roads i could see the mound of trash burning off in the distance.  a mix of machinery and working men looked like figures in a cartoon because surely real humans wouldn't be in that sort of situation.

i closed my eyes and tried to prepare myself for what i knew was coming.  it was five years earlier that i had come here and had my heart broken for the first time.  i was hoping a repeat story wouldn't unfold.  i was quite naive.

there is something about La Mosca that brings out the worst type of christian in me.  i feel angry and bitter upon entering its fly-infested streets.  it makes me want to slap neglectful parents in the face as i stare at their lonely, unloved children.  it makes me want to curse at the owners of the garbage dump who exploit these people and trap them in a pit of poverty.  it makes me want to have a conversation, not a pretty one, with the evil one who owns these streets and holds its inhabitants captive.

its dark and it feels hopeless.

i could feel my subconscious working over time to harden my heart, to make it numb.  it knows full well that if i let myself feel this place, sink into its grief, i might not be able to pull myself out.

the medical clinic was going great.  nothing too serious to report.  a few scratches and skin infections but mostly female issues dominated the morning.  i felt like i was going to make it.  i had successfully visited La Mosca without mourning over them and curling into a fetal position in the corner of the church.  but i made a simple mistake.  i looked out the window.  i saw plates of food being passed.  i thought i would go take some pictures.

i rounded the corner to fifty kids sitting on the cement floor with plates of food in their laps.  not unusual.  i've seen nutrition centers before.  heck, half of my summer is spent in them.  but i caught her eye.  a little girl who looked like the Dominican version of my little girl.  let the breaking begin.

i scanned her with my eyes from head to toe.  hair disheveled.  scrapes on her face and back.  scabies scars from her neck to her feet.  a pair of shorts, tattered and clearly too big for her.  no shoes.  and suddenly my own blonde-headed beauty flashed before me.  this time with matted hair and calloused feet.

she didn't smile, she didn't react, she didn't play.  she just stared.  her deep brown eyes staring at the big black thing i was holding to my face.  little did she know that it was my protection.  i've shed many tears behind my lens, unknowingly to the world.  and this day was no exception.  they flowed without end, or sound, as i imagined my baby girl sitting on a cement floor, eating rice and beans, wearing her brother's shorts and with itching wounds all over her body.  bugs, literally laying eggs in her flesh and clawing their way out after they've hatched.  this little girl's reality became my reality.  she became my daughter.

pain and suffering used to be something i ran from.  trying so desperately to make "light" of something that so evidently couldn't become just a phrase for an optimistic person.  more and more God is teaching me to meet people in their grief.  hurt with them.  suffer with them.  dive into their pain as deep as they are in it.  its in that place, and only in that place, that we can truly understand what Jesus did for us.  what He asks us to continually do...share in His suffering and the suffering of His beloved.

i don't know if she understands the life that surrounds her at the ripe age of two.  nor do i know the plans He has for her.  but i know something...God keeps allowing me to ache for these little ones and the injustice of their situation.  every bit of suffering i feel for them does more and more to drive me to seek justice for those who can't seek justice for themselves.

and after all, even in what seems like the most hopeless of situations, i still got her to smile.  just maybe hope is on the horizon.

"For just as we share abundantly in the sufferings of Christ, so also our comfort abounds through Christ."  -2 Corinthians 1:5

Photo of the Week - 6/26-7/3

 

you might find it strange that my photo of the week is a photo of one of our staff.  you might find it stranger that it isn't of an adorable kid in one of our ministry communities.  but this moment, this picture impacted me so greatly this week that i couldn't help but make this photo, my photo of the week.

***

you could hear a pin drop.  and in a country as loud as ours, that's saying something.  you know when you can tell something big is coming, whether you know what it is or not, something in you just knows?  all your senses hone in on what is taking place before you.  you are acutely aware of how people are positioned, where they are looking, who is drawing the attention.  you wait in anticipation for "the event" to occur, not yet knowing what exactly it is going to be.   i was waiting, expectedly.

the young men that surrounded me, somewhere around two hundred of them, were fidgety.  some of them knew it was coming too.  others didn't want the words to be spoken.  still others were waiting for the charge.  to be part of something bigger than any of them even knew possible.  because in reality, nobody ever really expected anything of them anyway.

i could hear it in Will's voice.  he wasn't going to shy away from this conversation.  he knew this was the moment.  he knew a week like this was his platform.  God's platform.  Will knew that if he wasn't bold, if he wasn't real, if he didn't hit them where it hurt, then all of this they'd been doing would have been wasted on deaf ears.

he started to talk about fathers.  risky subject.  maybe you or i have a pretty good picture of a dad because we grew up with amazing ones.  but these boys don't have that good fortune.  a majority of the fathers here are the furthest thing from what a father is supposed to be.  and when i say majority, i'm not exaggerating a statistic so you'll be blown away; the cold, hard truth is good examples are few and far between.  they abuse their children, beat their wives, drink incessantly.   and that's if they are around.  most "fathers" are but a vapor in the wind.  you only speak of them when signing official papers or are enlisting in school and the school officials need to know your father's name.  do you know a couple dads like that?  i know twenty; and they all live on the same street.

so when Will brought up their fathers, for most of them it was like opening a wound they would rather just put a bandaid on.  but Will wasn't having it.  he knows that if something doesn't change, 99% of the kids sitting in that room would grow up to be just like their fathers.  abusive.  deadbeats.  criminals.

Will asked them to raise their hands if their fathers drank a lot.  more than half the hands in that place shot to the roof.  the others raised their hands, not physically, but with a disgraceful expression.  "how many of your fathers hit your mom?"  less hands went up this time but their expressions went from disgrace and shame to hurt and angry.  "how many of your fathers hit you?"  only the hands of the younger boys stayed up.  the older ones know you don't let others see that kind of truth.  "do you want to be like your dads?  do you want to follow in his footsteps?  do you want to abuse your kids and beat your wives and get drunk every night?"  i could hear the quiet sound of influence passing over the crowd.  the sound of sniffing and tear-wiping began too.

something incredible happens when a person is empowered.  when they realize they have expectation.  it ignites something in them.  they suddenly feel like who they are now doesn't have to be who they will always be.  change is a powerful thing.

there was this moment when i could barely see through my own tears and i watched as Will's eyes welled up too.   i realized THIS is God's redemption plan for this island.  maybe the young men who are here, listening, will change the course of an entire community.  maybe looking back ten years from now we could track a new generation of husbands and fathers to this very room.  maybe, all it took was one guy from louisville, kentucky to charge these boys to be Men of God.  and almost as if it were rehearsed, when Will asked this room full of broken boys if they wanted to be Men of God they chanted back at him, "Hombres de Dios," with fists raised in the air.  not because they were expected to or they would win a prize if they did it really loud but because the flame was lit and the torch was passed and for a room full of boys, the buck was stopping here.

Photo of the Week 6/5-6/12

it's been harder on me since we have returned from the States.  it's almost like i forgot for a short time just what life is like for the majority of the people living here.  everywhere i look i see hungry kids, hurting families and satan's strongholds.  like my eyes have been opened...again.

even though i know God doesn't want me to stay in this place, it's still a good place to be.  to be reminded that we are on a battlefield.  we are waging war against the most deceptive army known to man.  we are fighting for little souls that don't even know yet why we are fighting.

little souls like hers.

as i watched her in her teenage mom's arms i tried hard not to feel hopeless for her.  wondering what on earth i could possibly do to change her circumstances, to keep her from following the broken path ninety-nine percent of her friends will.  God reminded me that i am armed with the strongest weapon available to anyone.  a weapon that our enemies will never possess.  a weapon that heals the wounded, saves the lost and brings justice to God's people.

i can pray for her.  i can battle satan in a spiritual realm that so many people forget they are able to tap into.  will you join me?  will you pray for this little one to stand apart from the crowd?  will you pray that she will have supernatural abilities to fend of temptation and live a life radically for Christ?

God is calling us to to stand in the gap for His people, especially the ones who are unable to defend themselves.  could you imagine this little one fighting satan on her own?  she needs me.  she needs us.  she needs the body of Christ.

Photo of the Week - 5.29-6.5

hello there, you little dominican beauty...

i know God has a plan for you.  plans to prosper you and not to harm you.  to give you hope and a future.  my prayer for you is that you find your identity in Christ; not in boys, clothes, or the things of this world.

remember this time, your youth, and the things that make you smile.  remember the freedom and the little things that make this time in your life so carefree.

keep putting flowers in your hair, just for the fun of it.  keep dancing with your friends in the street, just because you can.  keep walking through that church door, reminding yourself of a big God who cares so deeply for you.

i don't know your circumstances but i know that you are a child of Him who wants to do immeasurably more than you could dream or imagine.  let Him.  let Him use you for His kingdom.  let Him mold you and shape you.  let Him take control and show you His way...because, after all, it is the best way you can take.

you are the future generation of a culture that is going to radically change this island.  you are God's solution.  He has chosen you to be a part of a revolution.

you are a warrior even at your young age.

[Partin Family] & Ruby Ann's 6th month

There are days when the incredible job I get to do overwhelms me with joy. Today was one of those days.

Two of mike and I's closest friends recently returned home to the Dominican after a long stent in the States. Their family of two became a family of three. I was jealous and envious of so many people that got to hold their little one before I did. I was sad that I didn't get to take newborn pictures of her like all our other staff babies. But my wait was nothing compared to Will and Audrey's.

So as I was taking pictures of this little family of three today I couldn't help but stare at each frame. In fact, on the way home in the car as I was flipping through them all I couldn't keep myself from tearing up. I was in awe of God's grace. I was reminded of the story that he writes for each of us. The story He wrote for Will and Audrey. The hardships and the struggles are such a small part in comparison to the glory He unfolds every day. Little Miss Ruby Ann's smile is a perfect example of God's glory and grace and His unfathomable love for us.

You can read Will and Audrey's adoption journey, here.

my favorite of the day :)

Photo of the Week-2/12-2/19

meet linda (pronounced leen-dah; means cute, adorable, beautiful). hey there, pretty girl. she lives in the hole and she's been my photo of the week before. except before, i didn't know her. before, she cried at the sight of me. before, i hadn't stepped into her world.

it's been a strange transition working so closely to the ministry happening in the hole. i figured i would become more emotionally numb to it since i see it at such close proximity. but, quite frankly, the opposite has happened.

i remember when i was explaining life in the hole to a short-term missions team for the first time after i began working there. i said my usual stuff, expressed the need there, shared how tough life can be. and i cried. like, to the point that i just wanted to jump out of the van, find a corner and curl up in it. it no longer was just a story i told. it was her story. linda's story. i know kids now whose parents leave in the morning to go to work, lock their kids out of the house and make them fend for themselves until they get home. i know girls who are basically child prostitutes with no self-esteem or feeling of worth. i know parents who hardly have enough food to feed themselves, let alone their eight children. and it breaks my heart even more knowing their real life stories.

but for me, what keeps me coming back, what keeps me taking the long staircase down into this dump are the smiles i get when i turn the alley to the church. linda, who was so petrified of me two years ago, is now one of my most enthusiastic welcomers. she will stop whatever she is doing, run barefoot and jump over trash and dirty water just to rest comfortably in my arms. talk about redeeming people. god's already working on her little heart, changing it from fear and uncertainty to trust and love.

Welcome to the World!

Little Isileidy came into this world on Saturday, January 14th, weighing in at 7 lbs 8 ounces. Although she was healthy, her Mama wasn't. I hadn't realized how serious it was until after the fact, but apparently we almost lost Yuleidy. Due to severe anemia and not being able to stop her bleeding, lots of fluid and four pints of blood later they were able to bring her around.

When I went to the hospital to see her, they wouldn't let us in. She wasn't out of the woods yet and she was in intensive care. Intensive care, not in the sense that you and I think of. It didn't look sterile at all and there wasn't very much care involved. I kept praying, "Lord, just let me see her even if for a minute." And just after I finished praying, a nurse saw me standing at the door and waved to me to enter. She said all I could do was peek my head in and I told her that's all I needed.

When I rounded the corner to her room, i had to fight back tears as not to scare her. It looked like she was in a storage room that they just threw a hospital bed into. There were literally randomly placed filing cabinets surrounding her bed with just a small passage-way to reach her. This small child, laying all alone in a storage room with blood and fluids filling her veins. She looked like she was on death's door but as she turned to see me, a little smile. I smiled back and started to step in the room. The nurse stopped me and said, "You told me you just wanted to look." "But can't I just go hug her really quickly?" I asked. "No." The head doctor noticed me standing there and began shouting. By this time three of her friends had huddled behind me without my knowledge and the doctor pointed her crazy finger at them. I quickly told her that I loved her and that I was praying for her, and that was it.

She apparently improved through the night and I called her sister-in-law, Carolina, to see what the news was. She was back home in The Hole. I hopped in the jeep and drove there, to enter into a house completely filled with people. If it were me, I would have been completely overwhelmed.

Yuleidy looked exhausted but a hundred times better than the day before. Isileidy was already a pro at breastfeeding and it was so rewarding to see her Mama relishing in her new role.

Keep praying for this one. When the newness wears off and she's overwhelmed with exhaustion and the baby wakes up for the fourth time to feed; pray for perseverance and joy. Pray for her relationship with her "husband" who is only 21 himself. Pray for God to reign over them and raise up a new generation of parents. Pray that God touch their hearts in a big way, through this little blessing.

Photo of the Week-1/3-1/10

grismeily is shy, reserved and pierces your heart with a single stare. she is the youngest of four and the only girl. when i found out her mom was pregnant and that she was a girl, i don't know why, but i was so excited. maybe, if nothing else, just for her mom who was surrounded by boys. maybe because i knew she would be one loved little girl. and maybe because i thought, just maybe, her mom may warm up to me a little bit given that i had a little girl too.

you see, up until grismeily was about one month old, her shy, reserved mother was very weary of me. i had loved her boys for almost four years and said hello to her and hugged her whenever i could, but still she was very stand-offish. never rude or blatant, just weary.

when grismeily was one month old, i had been making headbands as a fundraiser for our ministry. i saw one that i had made and thought of her immediately. the next week i brought it to her mom. elisabeth's eyes lit up. she was so excited. something as small as a headband with a flower became my window of opportunity to love her as much as i loved her children.

even at age 22, elisabeth is one of the most caring, loving mothers i have ever known. even me, at 30, i don't know how she does it; caring for three boys and a baby girl. and although our friendship isn't where i would love it to be, i know for some, trusting doesn't come quickly.

grismeily and her headband, about 6 months old when she could finally wear it!

The Perez Family

I had another opportunity to photograph one of the missionary families. If you've spent time on our blog before, you would have seen there faces many times!

It's been fun to know them through their engagement, wedding and then with children. And what a unique opportunity I've had to photograph all those special milestones here and here and here. (I also photographed their wedding but can't seem to find that post!) Enjoy their most recent pictures and their awesomely, energetic toddlers! Woo...have they got their hands full!

my favorite from the day

sweet Stella, we became fast friends this day! i loved finally having some time with these girls!

the adorably rambunctious, Amelia!

can you tell which one's which? they are much easier to keep straight in person (amelia-left; stella-right)

The Leach Family + Colton turns One

i never knew being a missionary was in my cards. i always wanted to have my own studio. take pictures of families and kids and engagements. i thought when god called me to the mission field i'd have to give up all that. little did i know god would bless me with opportunities beyond what i could ever dream up myself.

i work (and i use that term loosely because we actually do life together) with a group of amazing people. couples, families, singles...we are a tightly knit group of friends, a family really. so when sunshine and eric asked if i could take some pictures for them, i was so excited.

i have done some other missionaries' pictures before. i love doing it. i love being able to balance my job and my love of photographing people, right where they are in life. sunshine and eric's son, colton, turned one in september. so we did a little combined one-year shoot and a family shoot. it was so much fun and sunshine and eric are incredible parents. i loved watching their little family through my lens. enjoy!

can you say, baby model?

this was a total accident, and i totally love it!