Michael's Lesson: The Power of Prayer

Over the past two years of my life I have watched the plans I had for myself since graduating from Carolina in 2008 slowly fall apart. Things just did not go the way I had expected, and yet the more desperately I held onto the way I wanted my life to be, the more the Universe seemed to resist. I saw my dreams for my heart and for my future slipping through my fingers like water, but the harder I tried to keep those dreams in tact, the quicker that water came pouring out. I felt as if I was fighting a battle against quick sand, and the more I struggled to regain composure and pull myself out, the deeper it pulled me down. So I did what I have always done. I prayed. Time and time again I begged, pleaded, and even tried to bargain with God for things to just work out the way I had decided they were supposed to. And time and time again I waited for an answer. I had, of course, hoped for the “yes, your wish shall be granted” response, but I also knew that God is not my own personal genie and that the answer might instead be, “No dear heart, not right now.” But the answer I got was not something I had prepared for. God did not fix things the way I had begged for Him to, but He didn’t say “No” either. Instead the only answer I got was a deeply painful, and lonely, silence. I never doubted that God was there. Even Einstein didn’t doubt the existence of a Creator, and I figure he would know far better than me anyways. And although there were days when I doubted whether God cared, deep down I knew that I was infinitely loved. But I was frustrated at the silence. I began to doubt the power of prayer. My entire life I had heard of miracles granted through prayer, but I had never actually witnessed one firsthand. And honestly, I wasn’t even asking God for a miracle. I was asking for things to work out, and fully knowing that that may not be God’s plan, I was asking then for the strength to heal, to let go, and to move on. I figured if things weren’t going to develop the way I had hoped, then at least God could help me get to a place where I could accept and be okay with that. But as months went by and things got worse instead of better in both my personal and professional life, feelings of frustration and loneliness began to grow. I remember literally talking out loud one afternoon to Jesus, “I KNOW you hear me. I KNOW you are right there. But I can’t see you, I can’t feel you, and I can’t hear you. And that REALLY sucks!” I had prayed for help and healing, and all I was getting in response was a deafening silence.

Enter Michael.

Two weeks ago I went on a very last minute trip to Haiti to work with pediatric patients at the only public hospital in the North. I found out two days before I was supposed to leave, so I packed up, scurried off to the doctor for Malaria pills and a Typhoid shot, tried my best to convince my family that I was not completely insane, and was on a plane to Haiti in less than 48 hours time. The very first thing I saw upon entering Justinien Hospital was a toddler who had just passed away. They hadn’t even closed his eyes yet. It was an abrupt shock to my system, like being thrown into an icy pool. I set to work immediately, trying to comfort the children in the hospital… to talk to them about why they were there, soothe their fears as best I could, and provide them with comfort and tenderness in an environment that was just as unfamiliar to them as it was to me. A young Resident, Dr. Lindsey, quickly took me on rounds and gave me brief summaries of each patient’s condition. Justinien had three pediatric rooms crowded with patients, and in the very last crib, in the last room, there lay a little boy staring blankly ahead. Dr. Lindsey told me he had been found abandoned in the street by a cab driver who had then dropped him off at the hospital. She told me that they believed he had cerebral palsy, but knew nothing else about him. I was concerned but she assured me that they were merely waiting on some priests who ran a local home for disabled children to come and take Michael to their orphanage. So I hurried off to pass out stickers and balloons to the other patients, only returning to see this little boy at the end of the day.

When I came back on day two, it became clear to me that something was wrong. This child was not being cared for by the hospital staff. I soon found out that the only time he had been fed in the past 2 weeks was when benevolent parents of other patients had extra food leftover. So I bought the child baby food, and watched over him as my friend Sandra, whose mother had luckily worked with disabled children in the States, fed him.

Before I knew it, this little boy was consuming my thoughts. I cried myself to sleep one night when, after having been told that the nurse in charge of diapers had gone home for the day, I left the hospital without ensuring that he had been changed. That evening after I had left, he had had diarrhea and was forced to sleep the entire night on his soiled sheets. I promised myself I would make sure he was out of that Hell by the time I left Haiti, or I simply was NOT going to get on the plane back to Charlotte.

Over the next few days I brought this little boy food and nagged the nurses to give him clean sheets and diapers. My heart melted for this precious child who was abandoned. In my own way, I too understood what it felt like to be unwanted and left behind (although fortunately, I have always had my incredible family and friends to fall back on). But despite knowing the excruciating pain of what it feels like to be unwanted by someone who was supposed to love me, I still could not fathom how this sweet little boy must be feeling… to have been left in the street, all alone, with no one to feed him, and hold him, and tell him “you are precious and I LOVE you.” It was utterly heart breaking. I figured he needed a name, so I named him Michael after the archangel. I could tell this little guy was a fighter through and through; something he clearly shares in common with his namesake. I sent marathon long emails to friends and family back at home about Michael, asking for their prayers. Pretty soon I was getting emails from strangers, “I heard about Michael. My entire church youth group is praying for him!” And in a matter of days, I watched Michael get stronger. I remember lifting him up out of his crib and sitting him on my lap. As I hugged him and kissed his forehead and cheeks, telling him “I love you” in Creole, I wondered when the last time he was held or nurtured had been.

I began to tell everyone that would listen about this little boy, but to my frustration, the hospital was still taking no steps to find him a home. One day I got to Justinien and was told he was running a fever. I wanted to shout at them, “OF COURSE HE IS RUNNING A FEVER YOU IDIOTS! YOU ARE STARVING HIM! YOU ARE FORCING HIM TO SLEEP IN HIS OWN EXCREMENT!” I was at the end of my rope. I could feel God’s righteous anger at the abuse of His precious child welling up inside of me. Then, as I was walking through the halls of the ER building I caught a glimpse of two Americans, one of whom had a camera. Thinking they were reporters I stopped them and asked that they go take pictures of Michael. I couldn’t hold back the tears of frustration and helplessness any longer though, and I began to cry. Randy, a nurse from Atlanta, and Laurie who runs a non-profit for children with chronic illnesses, were indeed not reporters, and were not even supposed to be at the hospital. They had just happened to be there in the ER at that very moment, after having witnessed a motorcycle accident and immediately rushing the victims to the hospital. It was then that I noticed they still had traces of blood on their clothing. But as I tearfully told them about Michael, Randy INSISTED on going to see him IMMEDIATELY. We rushed over to peds and were at Michael’s side in an instant. Randy went to talk with the staff while Laurie stayed with Michael and me, ensuring me, “Do not worry Lauren, Randy gets things done! Michael will be okay!” Laurie also told me that she had spent many years working with disabled children, and she saw a great deal of potential in Michael. At that moment, with Laurie’s arms around him, Michael STOOD UP. The child that I had assumed was catatonic on day one was now trying to stand. He is a fighter, just like his angel.

Less than 48 hours later, Michael went HOME. Randy and his friend Abraham were able to place Michael at a beautiful orphanage run by an American Nurse Practioner, Cheron Hardy. There is no doubt in my mind that Randy and Laurie were sent by God as an answer to our prayers to help Michael. The odds are just too slim that, by chance alone, I would have been walking through the ER at the very same instant as a proactive nurse with a heart of gold and all the right local connections and a woman who used to work with disabled children. I see God’s hand in the perfect timing of Randy and Laurie entering into Michael’s story. I am reminded of the words I read a year ago: “Be not afraid. Fear not. It is to the drowning man the Rescuer comes. To the brave swimmer who can fare well alone He comes not. And no rush of Joy can be like that of a man towards his Rescuer. It is a part of my method to wait till the storm is at its full violence. So did I with My disciples on the Lake. I could have bidden the first angry wave be calm, the first gust of wind be still, but what a lesson unlearned? What a sense of tender nearness of refuge and safety would have been lost. Remember this – My disciples thought that in sleep I had forgotten them. Remember how mistaken they were. Gain strength and confidence and joyful dependence and anticipation from that. Never fear. Joy is yours, and the radiant joy of the rescued shall be yours.”

God answered my prayers and provided me with the right people to help save my darling Michael. He is now in the capable and loving hands of Cheron Hardy at Hope Haven Orphanage, where I know he will be loved unconditionally and tenderly cared for. His lab work came back: he is HIV negative and his lung scans look promising. Aside from a slight case of Typhoid, he seems to be adjusting well to his new home, and I am grateful that he is in a place that will help him realize his potential. It’s funny, but I went to Haiti to help the people, but a beautiful handicapped child helped me instead. Michael restored my belief in the power of prayer. And although I know that I may go through periods of loneliness and doubt again in my future, I will always have the memories of my two weeks with this wonderful child to remind me of how much I am loved… of how much we are ALL loved: Deeply… Unconditionally… Eternally. It took staring into the beautiful dark eyes of a helpless child for me to remember that, and I’m glad I did.

Important links:

Randy Moore's Website: www.AHealthierHaiti.com

Laurie Kelley's Websites: http://www.saveonelife.net/

http://blog.kelleycom.com/

Michael's new home, Hope Haven Orphanage: http://www.eternalhopeinhaiti.org/default/orphanage

*For those of you who have expressed interest in donating to a worthy cause, I can personally attest to love and devotion poured into the above 3 organizations.

Charlotte Observer Reporter Franco Ordonez's article about Michael: http://obsthisland.blogspot.com/2010/06/nc-grad-student-tells-of-pain-and.html

Youtube videos of my trip:

Part 1: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=f4_sEOWG0As

Part 2: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=n7F9IkVA1Q8