GOD AT WORK IN THE HELL-HOLE OF HAITI (Picture shows Angela, aged 2 years) I was really quite nervous about going to Cite Soliel. It was my second trip to Haiti and every Haitian that we told about going to Cite Soliel either shook their heads or told us not to go. We arrived in Cite Soliel in a very short time. It's close to the airport in Port-au-Prince. The tap tap driver drove us out to a pier and we looked around. It was devastating. The smoke was so thick in the city; it was hard to breath and hard to see. The heat and the smell of raw sewage and body odor made the air feel thick in my lungs. At one point, I thought I'd pass out. But I knew God wanted me there and within a few minutes, I adjusted. I asked Simon, one of the Haitians traveling with us, why there was so much smoke and he said he couldn't talk about it there. Later he told me that when someone is killed, they burn the houses down. Thus the continual smoke. That, and there are mountains of garbage that are constantly smoldering. We were going to walk into a heavily congested area of houses, but were warned by some not to walk so far in the city. So we drove down some streets not much wider than the tap tap we were in. The houses were so close together it was shocking. They had common walls between the small houses made of what looked like limestone cement. There was another area that was shack after shack made of corrugated steel. Some were made of cardboard and pressed garbage. There was sewage in the streets and some green liquid that looked like antifreeze that was pouring into the front openings of some of the houses. There is a large river that used to run through the city. Now it is filled with raw sewage and garbage. There are children, hundreds of children that play in the sewage river. They run around naked, or with very little on, and most have swollen bellies. The whole time we were riding around in the tap tap, I was praying that the Lord would guide us where we needed to go. To show us just what and who we were supposed to see. We went down a long narrow street and the secret service man that was with us told the driver to stop. He wanted to take pictures for me on my camera. The tap tap stopped and there were half of a dozen boys that were eyeing us cautiously and talking to the secret service man while he took photos. Samantha got out and I got out of the tap tap then. Within minutes a crowd of about 100 people surrounded us. We both felt complete peace and safety. We both felt under the covering of the Lord. Neither one of us said as much, but God gives this unbelievable communication in times like that. I knew I was supposed to be there that day. So did Sam. The Haitians in the tap tap were watching God work and I knew they were touched by what was happening. The people were all accepting of us and wanting to talk to us. As soon as the people knew we were of no harm, they crowded around. There were so many families; I couldn't even begin to count, begging us to please take their children. They were saying that it's so unsafe and that they have no money; no way to feed their children. The secret service man asked me if I wanted to help them. I told him I did, but that I had no money to give them. He took down some names and addresses. Then my life utterly changed. There was this little girl, all in braids and a worn out dress. She had the saddest look on her face. She was about six years old and the sweetest little thing in the world. I talked to her in broken Creole and she started to smile. I must have been slaughtering the language! When she smiled, the whole city lit up. I asked her if she would want to come to America. She said she wanted to, but that she couldn't leave her little brother. He looked to be two or three. I knelt down and held her hand and we talked for a few minutes. The whole world disappeared. All that mattered was that I was there with her and could tell her that everything in her life would be okay. I knew God would see to it. Samantha watched and I know she saw what I saw. For such a huge crowd, it was silent. There wasn't any noise at all. It was the Lord. He spoke to me in that moment and said, "For such a time as this, I've brought you to this place." I had chills in the 100-degree heat. I knew He brought me from San Jose, California, to Haiti, on that day, with that group of people, down that particular street, to meet that little girl. I took pictures of her but didn't need to. She is etched in my mind and I will never forget her. I need to get back to Haiti to make good on my promise. I need to find some way to help that little girl and her family. We got back in the tap tap and the secret service man asked us if we wanted to go anywhere else. I couldn't even speak. As we left the city, the people we met were following our tap tap down the narrow street. They were all shouting. The secret service man said that they were saying, "We love you, Americans. Thank you for coming to see us. Thank you that you want to help us." That was all it took. The secret service man looked at me and said, "What's wrong with you? There is something wrong with your eyes." He didn't understand tears. There was a lady I met at the grocery store a couple of days before we went to Cite Soliel. I had Annikah (my Haitian daughter) with me and she asked me, in very good English, if I was adopting. I said yes and was braced for her to be upset with me. She smiled and said, "This is a very good thing. We are a very poor country and it is good that you are willing to take our children and give them a hope. All I can do is tell you that I'm grateful to you for helping my people. I can't give you anything at all." I said, "You just did." I thought that I left a big part of my heart in Haiti when I was there in May. I had no idea how much more of my heart I'd leave this last trip. I've been avoiding sharing all of this, as I've been afraid that in some way, it would take away the power of what happened. But it isn't true. What God did in Haiti is still just as alive in my heart as when it was happening. I didn't see this side of the story until now, but I know God wants to use this to encourage all of us. If God can take this backwards, middle aged, suburban mom of seven to Cite Soliel, Haiti one hot afternoon for the purpose of giving that little girl a promise, and so much more, He WILL overcome every single obstacle, great and small, in our lives, in our adoptions, in our marriages, in our communities, etc. When I drove out of Cite Soliel that day, I felt the full impact of God's greatness and the full impact of how small I am. He knows what's best for us and He loves us like He loves that little girl. He would go to the ends of the earth to meet us. He'd go to the ends of the Earth to give us a promise and to show us His great love for us. Is not God the greatest? I am fully melted again! Blessings to all, Linda.

Anna and Rebekah with their new sister Gracie

HAITIAN ORPHANS ANNA and REBEKAH FIND A NEW HOME

To God be the Glory, Great Things He has done! The Floras give all praise and glory to Jesus for the wonderful things He has done in the life of our family! Anna and Rebekah are home! What a wonderful place our home is now that our family is complete. The girls are full of giggles, smiles, questions, songs, and surprises. Gracie and Anna have become best friends. They love to play Barbies, ride their scooters, and chase Rebekah. It is as though they have always been here. Anna is no longer quiet and shy. She is the entertainer and loves to dance and perform karate for us. Rebekah has become a Daddys girl -- or as she says it -- "Dannie." They both love American food and eat lots of it. My first attempt at bean sauce and rice was NOT a success! Our grown, married children love them. When one of my boys come home, the girls run and jump into their arms. Our granddaughters Abby and Ellie can't get enough of kissing and hugging Rebekah. Our church family has embraced the girls and consider them their own. My favorite part of the day is at bedtime when the girls are bathed, tucked in their beds and we hold hands and pray with them and for them. We thank FOR HIS GLORY for the gift of these lovely girls. Thank you Pierre, Kiki, and staff for the care and love shown our children. Thank you Linda for answering God's call to Haiti. We will be forever grateful. Jim, Teresa, Gracie, Anna, Rebekah and all of the Flora family. Check out FOR HIS GLORY ADOPTION OUTREACH, HAITI

FRIENDS OF THE ORPHANS Erika was three years old when she was left by her mother in the bar where she worked. The man she had lived with for a while brought Erika to the juvenile court, where she was referred to the Nuestros Pequeños Hermanos (NPH; Spanish for “Our Little Brothers and Sisters”) home in the Dominican Republic in 2004. Erika had been living with her grandmother, who also had the responsibility for her teenaged daughter who was physically handicapped. Because of the long hours her grandmother worked, neither Erika, nor her aunt received the care they needed. Nobody really knew where Erika’s mother was. It was assumed that she was working somewhere in a brothel, as prostitution had always been her source of income. When the NPH social workers saw Erika for the first time, she was laying in a bed full of urine. She smelled bad, and was dirty and hungry. She was quiet and serious and her eyes looked nothing more than tired. No, something more: tired and sad. She would not look into the social workers’ eyes, but stared at the ground, ashamed of her condition. Two years later, she has changed a lot. She is going to school and eagerly shares what she has learned. Still a bit reserved, she now engages others in conversation. It is hard not to notice how much she has grown both physically and emotionally. Since coming to NPH, her grandmother has moved, leaving no trace of her whereabouts. Erika still misses both her mother and grandmother, clearly seeking a mother figure in her life. We are very optimistic that she will find these role models among her caregivers. Find out how you can help children like Erika at FRIENDS OF THE ORPHANS

ORPHANS IN DOMINICAN REPUBLIC BARAHONA, Dominican Republic. Ansi, Luisa, Sofía and Oveña lost their father to AIDS last year in this Dominican Republic town near the border with Haiti, after he was bedridden for six months. Their future looks dim as their mother was also infected with HIV by her husband. The children, between the ages of two and nine, spend much of the day with Carmela Pie, their grandmother. They laugh and play, unaware that Oveña, the youngest, could suffer the same fate as their father. Some of her tests are still pending."Supporting four children alone is difficult," the grandmother tells IPS. "Life is too hard," she says, combing Oveña's hair. "I don't know what's going to happen to this family." Carmela's grandchildren are going through the same experience as 33,000 girls and boys in the Dominican Republic who have lost one or both of their parents to AIDS. And another 3,000 children are living with HIV, the AIDS virus, in this country of 8.5 million. The Dominican Republic is located in the second worst-hit region in the world after sub-Saharan Africa: the Caribbean. At the end of last year, the Caribbean's HIV/AIDS prevalence rate stood at 1.6 percent, with some 330,000 cases, according to the 2006 Report on the Global AIDS Epidemic, published by the Joint United Nations Programme on HIV/AIDS (UNAIDS). Neighbouring Haiti is the biggest cause of concern, as it has an adult prevalence rate of 3.8 percent, compared to 1.7 percent in the Dominican Republic. Ansi, Luisa, Sofía and Oveña were born in the Dominican Republic but their parents are Haitian. Barahona, 205 kilometres southwest of the capital, Santo Domingo, where they live with their mother and grandmother, is less than 100 kilometres from the border that divides this Caribbean island shared by both countries. The economy of this area of 179,900 people revolves around a sugar mill built in 1916. Local residents also earn a livelihood growing plantains and other crops, or extracting gypsum and salt. Nearly 65 percent of Barahona residents are poor, according to the report on Focalisation of Poverty in the Dominican Republic, released this year by national authorities and the United Nations Development Programme (UNDP). As a sugar-producing area, Barahona is surrounded by factories with "bateys," or barracks-style sheds that house the sugarcane cutters, most of whom are Haitian. "The proximity to Haiti is associated with the high level of the disease in Barahona," Lidia García, head of the Comprehensive Healthcare Unit at the regional Doctor Jaime Mota Hospital, told IPS. Although there are no precise statistics, it is estimated that the prevalence of HIV in the bateys may be as high as six percent. "Many locals get involved in relationships with people from Haiti, and that increases the likelihood" of infection, García said. In an attempt to respond to the problem of orphaned children, on Sep. 29 the authorities presented a national policy for the protection and improvement of living conditions of children and adolescents who are orphaned and vulnerable because of HIV/AIDS. It contains eight main areas of action, including support for families, equal opportunities for education and effective healthcare and sex education. The policy was drawn up in the context of the global campaign launched last year by the United Nations Children's Fund (UNICEF) and UNAIDS, to intensify actions on behalf of the more than 15 million children worldwide who have been orphaned by the disease. Halting the spread of AIDS is one of the Millennium Development Goals (MDGs), adopted by the international community in 2000 as a platform to combat inequality and poverty around the world. The Dominican policy "is the result of an inter-institutional process led by the Presidential Council on AIDS and the National Council on Childhood, with the support of the National Institute of Health and UNICEF," said Humberto Salazar, executive director of the presidential AIDS council, during the presentation of the document at the government palace. "There now remains the challenge of making the strategies proposed by this policy document a reality, with effective interaction between government, civil society, the private sector, churches, and all who are fighting the epidemic," said Tad Palac, UNICEF representative in the Dominican Republic. The officials say they intend to "ensure access by mothers or fathers to effective prevention and treatment services to prolong their lives, in order to lower the levels of risk for children and adolescents in families with HIV, before the death of one of the parents eliminates the protection they provide for their children." But no concrete measures or budgetary allocations have been announced. According to official figures, 2,490 Dominicans required antiretroviral drugs for an advanced stage of the disease in 2005, and they represented 26 percent of all patients who needed antiretroviral therapy, which reduces the virus load in the body and prolongs life. Juan Alberto Pie, the father of the four children, died in April 2005 at the age of 39. Responsibility for the family fell to Luisa, his wife, who now goes to the market every day to sell used clothing and shoes to support her children. She is 27, and she knows she is HIV-positive. The grandmother, 69, does not want to even think about what lies ahead. "I'm too old to work," she says, looking at her calloused hands. She recalls her days in the fields, shrouded against the sun, planting pigeon peas and beans to raise her three children. "I can only look after them for a while, now, I'm not strong enough to do everything for them," she says. She shakes her head and says "I can't, I can't ... I don't know what I'll do." In 2004, 7,900 people died of AIDS in this country, and the health authorities are starting to consider the disease as the primary cause of death in adults of reproductive age. DOMINICAN REPUBLIC ADOPTION

Dominican Republic Orphans And Helpers