I just returned from Nicaragua. In the beginning I always think that this will be my last year going, however as the annual time approaches I always find myself coming. This year in particular was very special as my mother-in-law, Dianne, a nurse practitioner, and my friend, Cherith, both joined the team.

On the way down I had a 10 hour layover in Miami and was able to re-connect with my dear friend, Laurie and meet her beautiful children. Laurie is one of those friends that though we may not speak for many months, we can just pick up where we left off like no time has passed.

It is hard to believe that I have known her for 12 years and that 5 years ago she was the Maid of Honor in my wedding. I have never known her as Laurie, a mother, but smile at how easily she has transitioned into this new role.

It felt good to connect with people who were so instrumental in my life. Though I love living in Alaska, it is very far from both family and friends. I was happy that with two young children Laurie didn't think twice about coming to pick me up at the airport and that Dianne happily accepted the opportunity to join me in helping the people of Nicaragua.

I was especially proud of Dianne as this was her first medical mission. Though in the beginning she was a little nervous, after a few hours she found her stride and continued onward with much compassion and grace.  Though we offer medical help, truly experiencing the people of Nicaragua is our greatest reward.  It is in these times that I have found my greatest personal growth, and watching this unfold with Dianne was beautiful.

One particularly found memory was seeing her dance with an elderly man. He had just gotten a new pair of shoes and was so excited that he grabbed Dianne and started dancing.  Afterward as we were preparing to leave he came onto our bus and said a blessing over the medical team. It was very humbling to have witnessed this exchange and I believe it blessed Dianne very much.

It has been no secret that Ian and I have intentionally put off having children. When I travel to low income countries, especially when I stay at orphanages like we did on this trip, I have difficulty justifying having my own. Though I do not pass judgement on couples who do so,  with the global population well beyond 7 billion I do wonder what our earth and its populates will look like in the next 100 years.

On this trip however, I did feel somewhat of an unfamiliar thing, a strong maternal urge. Much of the time I would have rather played with the children than do anything else. Between making balloon faces, braiding hair, and painting nails, this longing to be around the children continued.

 

I had someone ask me once why I spend my vacation and money on global health issues when it seems to be only a small drop in the ocean.  My answer came out immediately, for the next generation's generation. If I can help one person, my hope is that for their children that drop will improve their lives if even a fraction. I may not live to see the fruits, but as time passes, it may add up to great change.  Like Mother Teresa had said, I don't want to live my life overlooking the drop, because the ocean would still be less if it were missing. 

For this trip I had a lot of people who contributed generously. Several months ago a colleague's daughter, Evelyn, had a lemonade stand and contributed a portion of her proceeds to the Jinotega Children's Orphanage. Before I left we went to the store and she picked out coloring books, crayons, markers, and pencils to donate to the children.  

One day after clinic I brought all the goodies out and ALL the children came rushing in to color. Every single child spread out on the gym floor to color. After a few minutes I stood up, watching them smiling and laughing, I just cried. Though they were only crayons and coloring books, the ocean for these orphaned children was a little fuller with Evelyn's drop.

Another friend Emily, a single mother of two boys, donated tons of clothing, shoes, and toys for the children. Without hesitation she and her boys went through all of their stuff and brought over piles and piles of goodies that they wanted to donate. As I was walking out the door her older son was still going through stuff that though he enjoyed, would rather give to another child. 

Two of the gifts in particular, a stuffed dog and a jump rope brought tremendous joy to their recipients. This little girl would not stop smiling and hugging her new French dog. 

And I spent hours jumping rope with the children. 

Other friends donated money, toy cars, nail polish, and stickers, all of which were greatly appreciated. Like I mentioned earlier, I could have spent my entire time painting nails and jumping rope; seeing these children light up was so wonderful.  

For little boys, the match box cars bring extreme excitement and joy. I usually start by driving the little cars up their legs and unto their stomachs all the while trying to imitate car sounds. I usually end by placing the car in their hands upon which they continue the little car game by racing the cars around the plastic chairs. 

An interpreter, Michelle, told me a story about a little boy who received a car. His father said that though he had been asking for a toy car for many months, the family was too poor to spend money on such extravagances. When Michelle told the story at our nightly meeting, she was brought to tears recounting how the little boy kept smiling and how grateful the father was.  A little match box car, not an iPhone.....it just blows my mind. 

I get the same reaction when I give a little girl a colorful purse. Its what keeps me sewing just one more.....just one more.....

It also reminds me of my many unnecessary extravagances, and how unexcited I have become about all the excess stuff I own and how empty it actually makes me feel.  I am beginning to despise this part of me that depends on such things that create a false sense of security or happiness. 

These thoughts and questions have been heavy on my heart over the last year. So at my request, when my birthday came around this year in lieu of buying me a gift, I asked my office to use the money to sponsor a child in Nicaragua instead. 

I was so excited when the organization sent us a picture of Marie Luz, the little girl we would be sponsoring. I was even more thrilled when I could finally meet her and give her a hug! 

The more I travel and learn, the more I realize that it doesn't take much to be the hands and feet of love. 

And that when I die, the only thing left in my hands will be what I have given away.

This is my interpreter, Bildad. I truly enjoyed working with her during the week. She was beautiful, articulate, smart, and all around lovely. 

When a group of children sat down to be examined I was somewhat dumbfounded when all of their chief complaints were that they were unable to concentrate. As I have been taught I ran through my list of questions  - any family history of ADD/ADHD, was there bullying at school, headaches, vision changes, hearing problems, etc? 

However, when Bildad stopped me and asked them when the last time they had eaten, I was shocked to learn it was almost two days ago; they had been unable to buy food for the day. Bildad then went on to tell me this is also why she had trouble concentrating at school, she was always hungry. 

As the 2nd poorest country in the western hemisphere of course this would make sense. She went on to tell me of how poor she grew up, how all she could think about during class was food, hoping that there would be dinner on the table that night ,and how often there was not. Though I know about poverty, I am still far removed from its consequences. As I sit here writing this blog I am well aware of my fully stocked fridge and cabinets.  Right now my biggest concern is what I am going to make for dinner, not if there will be any to serve. 

Still, for most of the Nicaraguan people there is joy. There remains a resiliency that cannot be learned. There is peace, hope, and love that naturally occurs in those who have faced these tragedies and there is a spiritual teaching that radiates from their life. 

In the west we are very bipolar in our life; fluctuating between extremes in our emotions and lives,  often remaining very addicted to ourselves and our story.  We seek medications or drugs to numb ourselves because we don't like the swings of pain, our obesity, or our depression. We crave the upswing to feel better but neglect the self reflections and stillness that is needed to calm the pendulum. By default we have a large downswing and then the cycle starts all over. In other cultures this pendulum swings much slower and inadvertently the traumas are experienced much differently. 

In countries like Nicaragua they seem to not just avoid the bad also to actively seek the good. They strive for the middle way and are able to sit with uncomfortableness, watch it, feel it, and even accept it. Maybe this is because they have accepted death whereas we try to avoid it. We strive to make ourselves look younger, often going through extreme surgeries to evade the unavoidable appearances of time. Often in the United States  I also strongly sense feelings of entitlement without any consideration for contribution, its just what is expected. 

In places like Haiti or Nicaragua I rarely feel this way. I have watched young children stand for hours patiently waiting to be seen, people gratefully accept tylenol, and families continue to smile and play though hungry and without an iPhone. 

I took care of a 65 year old women who worked from 4:00 am - 4:00 pm in the coffee fields 7 days a week just so she could have food on the table each day. As I examined her rough and worn hands I wondered how many of our teenagers could do such hard labor without complaining? 

I am not trying to get down on our culture, only trying to understand how other cultures, especially in the third world, can appear more developed emotionally with so little externally. I have said for a while that our society also has poverty, but our poverty is mostly of the soul. Unlike the low income countries who are almost forced to develop their inner man,  we are taught from an early age about the survival of the fittest, the victory of the strongest, and the success of the most clever. Little is said about the glory of the one who both finds and develops himself and his soul.  I wonder if this happens more with the poor because they have learned to surrender to their struggling and in doing so their victory is won. 

I love the quote by the Dalai Lama, " Man sacrifices his health in order to make money, then he sacrifices his money to recuperate his health. And then he is so anxious about his future that he does not enjoy the present; the result being that he does not live in the present or the future; he lives as if he is never going to die, and then he dies having never really lived. "

As always, this trip has given me much to chew on and contemplate. I am immensely grateful for the Nicaraguan people for having shown me their resilience and love amidst hardship. Each time I go I learn something new and I hope that I too could live as gracefully as they do should I be given their life. 

-Sarah

Since returning from Haiti so much has happened. For starters, Ian and I have both been accepted into doctorate programs beginning 2015. It seems that though we may always be students, it is happily by choice. Ian will be working towards a doctorate of psychology and I on a doctorate in global health.  Both are through distance correspondence and though we will have to travel to campus regularly, we can remain in Juneau until our degrees are obtained. Having the two of us working on PhDs in addition to working part time is going to be interesting, but I am confident that this is a path we will both be successful at. He spends most of his time reading books and scouring the Internet on psychological theories and practices and I on global health issues and reform so this feels like natural extensions of ourselves anyway, only with a higher price tag. 

We also had our first overnight with our Big Brothers Big Sisters match, Miles. We decided to have an indoor camping experience so we set up a tent in our living room. I actually thought Ian and I should swap our bed some night and do this as well, it looked pretty fun! He has brought a lot of learning into our life and our relationship continues to deepen each time we get together.  

In two weeks I will be headed back to Nicaragua on a medical mission trip. My mother-in-law, Diane, will be coming along as a provider and my friend, Cherith will also join us as a nurse. Nicaragua is very special to me as this is where my love for global health was cultivated. It was there that a new part of myself was unlocked, greatly altering my life journey.  I enjoy sharing this experience with others and watching how it alters the thinking and lives of those who allow it to.

 Like last time I have been busy sewing my now trade mark little purses. Yesterday Cherith came over and not only learned to sew but actually put together a very cute and functional bag! 

Last night Ian and I watched the movie, The Good Lie, about the lost boys of Sudan. Having read numerous books beforehand I already knew their story. Still, I couldn't get through the movie without crying. As I made my way to bed afterward I did something different.  Instead of rationally contemplating what happened, who was to blame, and what I could do to help, I just sat with the experience and the feelings I was having and let stillness speak. 

Where were these emotions coming from? Was it the plight of the children, the human suffering, the or unfairness of war? Or was there a deeper connection to something that I myself could relate to? 

In our world, many things falsely attempt to evoke our emotions, and we get caught in the spokes of a seemingly endless emotional wheel being tossed to and fro.  For many of us we are addicted to this emotional energy cycle unknowing that it acts to keep us from accessing a deeper meaning. As for myself, I know that external appearances (poverty, human suffering, hunger, etc) certainly pull me toward such a spinning vortex of finding cerebral answers. 

However, last night when I detached from these emotions my experience completely changed. My apathy didn't keep me from feeling, it allowed me to experience the rawness of it. 

I realized that although the Sudanese incident was insufferable, my tears were not only for their historical tragedy, but also for the lost way of life that we all experience. When the lost boys came to the US as refugees their entire way of life shifted. It wasn't only their introduction to electricity, running water, and abundance that changed, but they were confronted with the idea of separateness in a society that thrives on the individual. While they had once lived in community, although poor by our standards, connected to each other and to the earth, they now found themselves separated from these basic elements that gave them meaning. 

I realized that though I have not known such horrors, I too have felt this lost art of living.  We wake up to alarm clocks, no longer rising to the stars or the natural cycles of the sun. We fight against time and complain that there isn't enough of it in the day. We live under the illusion that we are independent from creation, looking at it as something that can be measured or manipulated.  We get so caught up in the daily affairs that bring little peace that our life passes and we completely miss the odyssey. We find ourselves feeling unattached, let down, alone, and empty even in a society where abundance is the norm. 

In our daily rush rush rush many of us have forgotten that we have a universe inside of us, a microcosm and hologram to something much greater. Although this life force or energy has had different names throughout time, its purpose has always been the same, to connect us to the Divine and allow us to surpass the cerebral into the supernatural. To experience a heaven on earth. 

Most religions of today focus more on the morals and behaviors of man instead of his soul development. All that is demanded of him is that he believe with his mind and conform his outer behavior to the rules and rituals laid down for him. He is not required to be inwardly active, or to surrender his dreams more than once or twice in his life. It is necessary for him to be good but not necessary for him to develop. Through our religious institutions there now runs a superficial conciliation to immortality coupled with an external code of conduct that mistakenly glances over the development of the soul. 

What I realized from the movie is that though I viewed their pre-war life as somber, they were living a connectedness to the earth and each other that most of us have never known. Young boys traveling over 1,000 miles through deserts and civil war takes more than muscle and external luck.  Few of us realize that it requires something already inside of us, something divine. I think through their life experiences these uneducated young boys came to truly understand this form of hope with their hearts. And, by surrendering to life more than once, they survived. 

I am coming to believe that poverty wears many hats. For us in the US it often shows itself as a poverty of the soul. It is often in places of such over abundance that these lessons are harder to understand. I know I have felt this shift when I return home from traveling overseas. It becomes so much harder to continue my spiritual practices with so many distractions. Many of us are attracted to the glittering effects of this world and until we can transcend this addiction we will never be able to truly experience the heart of God. And, until we can be natural extensions of love and peace from within us,  experiencing world peace will remain something of fairy tales. 

Sure, we need water, food, and shelter to keep our body temples alive in order to practice stillness, but like the lost boys, we also need community and connection with others and the Divine for it to survive. And as I finally drifted off to sleep, thoughts of developing my soul were filling my heart and giving my mind something to look forward to when it woke up. 

- Sarah

Haiti

If you change the way you look at things, the way you look at things change.....Ian said this to me once and though he is full of other wise life proverbs, this came to mind several times on my recent trip to Haiti.

Having been there just 6 months ago, I thought I knew what was in store. However, it wasn't until we saw our first starving child that all the memories came flooding back with vengeance. You can never be prepared for those.

Sometimes I wonder if we are making any difference at all, the enormity of the world's problems are so vast. In Haiti I have seen some of the worst medical cases; things that are so easily treated in the US leave lifetime disfigurements and disability in Haiti. Compounded with the numerous consequences of poverty it is the poorest country in the western hemisphere. 

Still, I know for at least a few we have made a difference.  During our trip in May we enrolled several children into our Medika Mamba (plumpy nut) feeding program and at their recheck during this last clinic, all have gained weight, and most importantly, are still alive. Still, the curse of poverty remains, especially for the children.

Children racing to get candy. On our last day we do a "candy walk" and pass out treats, the children literally come out of the woodwork and follow us several blocks. It always makes me cry. 

Crissy, a nurse, passing out candy

This morning my mom reminded me of the story of the boy and the starfishes. When they wash ashore you may not be able to save them all but for the ones that you throw back into the ocean you did.  In Haiti it is the same, one starfish at a time.

Little boys selling seashells on the beach, I not only bought 7 but also bought each of them a bottle of cold Coke. 

This summer I met Kristi, a pediatrician living in Bend, Oregon, at a Bat Mitzvah in Juneau. We starting talking about international medicine and without much convincing she decided to join our November team to Haiti. Regardless of our new friendship, when a Haitian grandmother sat down at Kristi's table carrying a small infant, I knew from the look in Kristi's eyes that the curse of poverty had reached yet another family.

Kristi

The infant’s mother had died in childbirth and the grandmother was raising the child all alone. At 7 months the child weighted 3.2 kg, just 7 lbs. Clearly starving herself, the grandmother said that she had no food for herself or the child and was feeding the little girl mostly water. With a swollen stomach and stick limbs, the dear little soul didn't even have enough strength to hold her head up. 

I saw Kristi tear up, I too had remembered that feeling of helplessness and desperation at the sight of a starving child two steps from deaths door. While she was given numerous cans of formula with hopes that at our next clinic she will be strong enough to be enrolled into our feeding program, and a very touched Kristi slipped the grandmother some money to buy food, they both have a long battle ahead of them.

What I remember most watching this all unfold was Kristi's instinctive action to help. I have learned that helping others needs to be spontaneous, otherwise there is some kind of egotistical thing going on and that is a red flag. You hope you impact people on the deepest level you are capable of at the time, sometimes you do and sometimes you don't, but I really believe that an action without ego is an action of pure love. And somehow this has within itself a power to change things, both seen and unseen.

I could tell numerous stories about my time in Haiti. Though we do have cause to celebrate, often I often find myself on the verge of tears.

People wearing shredded flip flops that are beyond thankful to get a pair of used sneakers most Americans would throw away. Children who squeal with laughter at getting a small match boxcar.

Putting new shoes on a little girl

Or, how a homemade purse on their shoulders, or a re-usable kotex menstrual kit (yes you read that right, I am making re-usable kotex pads for school girls…brilliant idea from Days for Girls) causes a large grin. It is during these times that I hope some unseen force is filling their heart.

Little purse that I made

I have had several people spontaneously donate money, toothbrushes, cars, clothing, shoes, fabric, etc towards my medical missions because they hear about an upcoming trip. To them I am eternally grateful. It isn’t so much the tangible gifts they donate, but the awareness and compassion they have for those they may never meet, and my knowing how much those things bless the receiver.

Though the people in Haiti often need our time, help, and even money, it isn't as much as they need our awareness to their existence and our love. Going on a mission trip for 2 wks means nothing if the moment it ends they are forgotten. 

Little boy with severe clubbed feet

It's easy to be in a low income country sitting in a circle singing Kumbaya while simultaneously patting ourselves on the back for "helping the poor", the real work comes when we re-enter into our daily lives. Will we be moved to consume less and be thankful more? Will we be mindful of those who got left behind? Will we be spontaneous in our giving to people of our own country who need our awareness?

On Sunday we had a church service with a reading from Matthew about "helping the least of these. " Again I thought of how very easy it is to stroke the ego during medical missions, even with good intentions. Let me be honest here, going on these trips is actually a selfish thing, it makes me feel good when I do it.

So, as I sat there reflecting on what was being said on Sunday and watched the emotional response elicited, I thought about what it truly meant to "help people." When you help someone for selfish gain or out of a feeling of obligation or duty rather than free-flowing love, you may not only find yourself resenting the person for needing your help but also miss the opportunity to have a genuine connection with another soul.

And when you feel connected with them there becomes no giver or receiver - there is just One.  When this happens helping others truly becomes helping yourself as well.

What I realized on this trip is that the universe is giving me an opportunity to be a conduit of love and it feels good to pass it on, regardless of the outcome. It is also providing a way for me to enhance a force that has been in motion for millennia, love.  

I am prepared to defend my Spoons championship title. 

My interpreter, Hughes, who ironically is a doctor, has been with me twice now. Through his efforts in perfecting my Creole I am now able to get through a medical exam using only Creole. What is more amazing is that my patients even understand what I am asking and saying. In the short time that we have been together I can truly say that he is my friend.

 

A gift from Hughes, a wood carving with my name. 

Though he has completed his medical training in the Dominican Republic, he is unable to find a job in Haiti. He is required to spend 1 year serving the Haitian government (our equivalent of a residency) however with very few hospitals / doctors, and no official residency program this is nearly impossible. In addition, it is very costly.

 I always laugh when he shows up to interpret, he looks a lot like Puff Daddy, aka, P Diddy. And, he is the only person I know who manages to keep long white pants spanken clean in the dusty / dirty country of Haiti while simultaneously looking like a Haitian movie star. If you look close enough though, his shirt most certainly is missing two buttons and has a few random holes.

After our clinic one day I mentioned in passing that we were going to the beach (a daily thing). I was surprised to find him swimming in the ocean with a snorkel and goggles when we got there. With similar careers it is easy to view him differently than the majority of Haitians who are illiterate.

However, as we stood there talking I saw for the first time a man who grew up in poverty, lost both parents far too early, struggled to put himself though medical school, and though he loves his country, is confined to its corruption, negligence, and lost dreams. I realized that like so many others, the curse of poverty was his story as well.

We talked almost an hour before I mentioned that I was going to join the group at the hotel. We said our good byes and then I walked the 20 feet to the resort. As I was sitting there I realized that he didn't ask to come along. As I further pondered this I had a very embarrassing thought...he probably knows that he isn't allowed or welcome to come into the "white people" resort. And furthermore, he probably didn't have any money to buy a drink.

When I realized this I ran down the 20 steps to see if he was still there, hoping to invite him up as my friend. By then he was gone and I was left feeling very uncomfortable. In my life I have never felt discrimination, I am usually always welcome and usually don't think twice about not being allowed entry because of the color of my skin or my ethnicity. Things are different here in Haiti, amongst its many issues, your shade of brown still matters, and poverty is still trump.

The following day when he came to clinic I mentioned what happened and how I bad I felt. He validated my assumptions about why he didn't come up but humbly shrugged it off. I realized then that I see things not as they are, but as I am.

 

On this trip I felt uncomfortable and self-conscious with being white, wishing this imaginary pedestal that we are often placed would be knocked down. When one of my patient yelled, "Hey blanco, mwen kisa lajan!" (Hey, whitey, I want money!) though I laughed, I felt uncomfortable.

 

Uncomfortable not because she was asking, after all she was about 80 and very poor, but that as a white American, of course I have money compared to the remaining 99% of the world! 

 

The medical team with our interpreters

At times is just doesn't seem fair.  I know that it is only through luck that I was born when and where I was.  I also wonder that if living in a color blind world would solve some of the mess that we are in. Of course this is not possible, but learning to recognize the soul behind the shell is, and I do think that once we realize this similarity our world will change. 

 

Dick and Barb Hammond, the founders of FOTCOH (friends of the children of Haiti). People who I admire, aspire to emulate, and who saw a need and responded. 

Among everything experienced and felt on this trip, I am most thankful for the personal growth and for the challenges that required me to go beyond myself. With each piece of my ego that is lost I know I am closer to finding my true self. Always remembering that when I change the way I look at things, the way I look at things changes.