A Sweet Noelle: (un)broken

“Why heart defects? Why Iraq? Why orphans?”

Friends and family asked me these questions over and over again as I advocated for children with broken hearts, and tried to raise funds for their surgeries. Even more incredulously, they asked, when I moved to Iraq to provide heart surgeries for critically ill Iraqi children. Over and over again I answered:

Because. Of. Brooke.

I met Cai Wei, or “Brooke” (her given English name), while interning for a special-needs orphanage in China. She was 18 months old, and, on my first day of work, I was assigned to work one-on-one with her.

Immediately, I fell head-over-heels in love.

She, however, was not so quick to love—distrustful and guarded due to emotional trauma in her past. Born with only half a heart—along with four other complicated defects—Brooke arrived at this orphanage, an incredible place called New Day Foster Home, when she was only 10 months old. She was very blue and very sick, desperately needing a surgery to survive. Soon after, she received her first open heart surgery, and this truly saved her life.

People that I will never meet this side of heaven donated funds to give my Brooke a chance to live. They gave her a priceless gift that can never be repaid. She was given a future full of beautiful hope.

As the summer wore on, she gradually began to trust me, and we eventually became the best of friends. However, I still worried every day about her physical heart, knowing how much she needed another surgery. I left China and “my” Brooke Cai Wei at the end of the summer with my own heart broken, and returned home resolved to find her a family.

Only God could orchestrate the events that followed in the months after returning home, but 8 months after saying goodbye to Brooke in China, my family was on a plane headed back to bring her home- forever to be ours. Brooke and I were waiting for them to arrive in China…and the moment I placed my baby sister is my mother’s arms for the first time is a moment that will   never, ever be forgotten. 

 

Life was a whirlwind with our new little one, but 7 weeks later, we placed Brooke Cai Wei into the arms of her capable surgeon, as she went in for yet another lifesaving open-heart surgery. While Brooke’s heart can never be “fixed”, this surgery gave her incredible hope. It gave her a chance for a future.

Because of Brooke, I see hope for children all around the world with heart defects, waiting for their chance at life.

I remember too vividly the despair that is felt, knowing the child I loved needed a miracle to survive. While in Iraq, I hurt with each family, as they bravely handed their precious children over for surgery, not knowing the outcome. When I hear that a child’s repair has been successful, I can almost feel the beat of Brooke’s newly repaired heart under my hand. I know in my soul the relief that is felt when these families see that their children have been given a hope for life.

YOU can join me. You can bring hope to another little one, desperately needing a chance

This precious one is another sweet girl, waiting for her heart surgery, just as my Brooke waited for hers. This little one’s name is Noelle, and she lives at New Day South, the same organization that cared for my Brooke and quite literally saved her life. Noelle has incredibly complex heart defects, and needs her second open heart surgery that will cost $10,000. Expensive? Yes, incredibly. But her life? Friends, her life is priceless.

  For me, heart defects are no longer just a statistic, just another medical condition. Brooke Cai Wei has given them a face, and her heart-story has rewritten my own.

You can make a tax-deductible donation to Noelle’s surgery by following this link. She is worth it, friends. Please help us make her broken heart whole.

Every child, like Brooke, deserves the gift of hope.

Now that I have seen, I am responsible. Because of Brooke, I am here. Because of Brooke, I will fight for every child with a CHD to have access to hope. Join me in praying for Noelle and help us heal her heart!

Snapshot:: Amna Suraka

Amna Suraka.

Saddam Hussein’s “Red Security Prison”, built to torture and imprison hundreds of thousands of Iraqi citizens from the Kurdish region.

182,000 shards of broken glass representing the number of lives lost at Saddam’s hand.

5,400 light bulbs showing the number of villages destroyed.

A reminder of devastation and pain, wrapped in a piece of beauty.

Shimmering shards of light restored in the unity of hope and peace.

 Linking up with Stefanie’s Sunday Snapshot

Honor and Shame…and My Walk Between.

If there is one word that I have learned backwards and forwards; one that I will never ever forget…it is “iba”. Iba. Such a simple word. So seemingly insignificant. But it is this word….this simple, two-syllable declaration… that can destroy a reputation. A word that can dishonor a family for years to come. A word of deep shame.

Because quite literally, “iba” means just that. Shame.

This concept of shame is something that I am learning more about every day. I have only begun to scratch the surface of this deeply embedded idea. However, I am finally realizing the things that make me “shameful” in this culture.

 It’s things that you would never think twice about in the West. Many things are quite simple. Do not apply chapstick in public. Food and drink is only consumed while seated. There is no “to-go” in this culture. Try to avoid eating with or using your left hand in public. Make sure you are entering through the “women and family entrance” at local restaurants…as many are segregated male and female.

 Others are not so easy. To look a man in the eye or smile a friendly hello as we are so accustomed to do in the States is fiercely inappropriate here. Accidentally brushing his hand when receiving change in a store….or even worse…purposefully reaching for an arm/shoulder/back in a meant-to-be-friendly touch. Bending down in front of a man. Showing your hair, ankle, or elbow.

 “Loose”. “Easy”.

  “American”.

 American. Here, Hollywood defines the Western world. Hollywood has set the standard for what this culture believes Western women value. How we choose to dress. What we participate in. And most importantly, what morals we hold.

 The resulting stereotype is not pretty. It’s embarrassing. It’s a stigma.

 Yes, the dueling forces of honor and shame can initially be difficult to understand. And yes, on 110 degree days, I do wish I could pull on a pair of shorts and throw on an old tank top.

 But just as I am here to have my own American-born stereotypes and ideas of the Middle East, Iraq, and her people broken and shattered into a million pieces, I am here to shatter expectations. To build new stereotypes. To immerse myself in Iraq and her culture, experience it fully, and behave in a way that brings honor to myself, to my gender, and to my country.

 American freedom, “expressionism”, and high individualism are truly beautiful things that should be deeply valued. But while I am here, my fiercely independent, women’s rights lovin’ little self is learning a lesson in the beauty in quietness. I am growing to love the lens of “honor and shame” that governs this place. The dependence in community. And the cultivation of respect for another’s culture.

 So today, I will wake up and put on my worn-too-many-times-in-a-row ankle length skirt. I’ll make the 15 minute walk to the office and wait to gulp my water and breakfast down until I arrive. I’ll go to lunch and ask the men in my group to take my payment to the counter. I will embrace the extremely entertaining face/hand/foot ONLY farmer’s tan I am rocking. And I will be thankful for this time to experience, to grow, and to sweat just a little bit more. 

For Children Like Her.

“To desire and strive to be of some service to the world, to aim at doing something which shall really increase the happiness and welfare and virtue of mankind – this is a choice which is possible for all of us; and surely it is a good haven to sail for.”
– Henry van Dyke

This is why we work. This is why PLC exists. So that children like Parzheen have a chance to thrive. She is beautiful…and her future is now bright. What a celebration her life is!

God is good. What a beautiful thing.

A Lifesaving Heart Surgery & An Epic After Party from Preemptive Love on Vimeo.

Through the Pain…Hope is Rising

Sometimes, things are beautiful. So beautiful they make you want to sing and jump and cry- all at the same time. Sometimes, you can so clearly see the work that God is doing it’s as if you can almost taste the goodness.

Those things are beautiful.

 A few days ago, we experienced something beautiful. An international team was in the area, and we were able to go into villages to screen hundreds of children for heart defects. Performing hundreds of echocardiograms; hundreds of EKGs. So many squirming, wriggling, oh so precious little bodies…heartbeat after heartbeat echoing down through the rooms. The emotion in each room was high.  Anxious parents holding their hopes and dreams in their arms, waiting to hear the coveted words…”Your child has a beautiful, healthy heart”…while bracing for the worst. Sighs of relief at good news heard are palpable, then quickly followed by endless thanks. But the sharp intakes of breath- the dashing of those hopes and dreams- are what pierce my heart instead.

 Please…please help us. This is my child.

 A family came to this clinic, with a precious twenty day old gift. The little boy was clearly very sick, with a tell-tale blue-ish tint. Again, the familiar chorus from the wearied father…”Please. He is my baby boy. Please help him”. He was diagnosed with Transposition of the Great Arteries (TGA)…a complex CHD. There wasn’t much time, but the visiting surgeon thought that he could give him a chance. In God’s perfect timing, he had come into town…just in time to meet this little gem.  He agreed to operate as soon as possible, as early as the next day! Plans were made and things fell into place…this little one had hope. As soon as he could arrive at a city much farther south, he would have his chance. A chance to grow. A chance to flourish. A chance to live.

 This. This, my friends, is beautiful.

 But sometimes, sometimes things are painful. Sometimes things are so painful that you can’t begin to understand. You can’t think. You can’t shout. Sometimes, you can’t even cry. You can only sit stunned, and pray that things will begin to make sense. Pray that it’s wrong…that this can’t be true…that there must be some mistake.

These things are painful.

 Yesterday, we experienced something painful. Something that wrenched my heart, pierced my soul, and left me raw…questioning…trembling. This precious one, for whom mountains had been moved and great hope had been placed…

He passed away.

 Just minutes after reaching the hospital in the south. Just minutes before a life-giving surgery could begin. And it was too late. It was shocking. It was unexpected. It did not match in the slightest our expectations of the hope and joy in this day…for this boy….for his family. Hope was dashed. Life was lost. The reality stings.

 This. This, my friends, is painful.

 But there is beauty in this pain. Because you see, this little one had a chance. He had a hope. He was not turned away…sent home due to a broken medical system…or given up on. His story here was rewritten, and the hope in it shines through.

 He was fought for. He was given a chance for life. And he was loved.

 In a country where this type of medical care is rarely seen…where thousands of children with heart defects have previously sat on medical waiting lists without a chance or a hope for an unbroken life…this story infuses hope. Because maybe someday, all the children of Iraq will have the same chance at life this little one was given. Maybe someday, all the children with broken hearts will be mended, learning to run and jump and play, experiencing life like they never have before.

 This little one was so worth it. He is the symbol of the hope that is to come. Because out of this dusty, broken country where hope is dry…He is creating beautiful things. Because his chance, his fight, his life…is the beauty.

 Hope is rising. Can you feel it?

“All around,

Hope is springing up from this old ground.

Out of chaos, life is being found in You.

You make beautiful things,

You make beautiful things out of dust.

You make beautiful things,

You make beautiful things out of us”

– Gungor “Beautiful Things”