In Christ Alone

Tuesday was her first birthday. Thursday was her funeral. Her name was Podelandine. She was suffering from severe kwashiorkor malnutrition, her swollen face and legs were visible signs of the serious illness raging inside her tiny body. Her papa brought her to us on the day she turned one, desperate to find help for his sweet daughter. Her mama had been sick for months and died the week before and her daddy was losing hope. He’d already taken Podelandine to a clinic who refused to help, saying that there was nothing they could do. He couldn’t bring her to us sooner because he was burying his wife and struggling to provide for his other two children as well. And so, we agreed to care for his daughter, promising to do our best, but knowing that it might not be enough.

Dad bringing Podelandine to COTP

Podelandine was only with us for a day and a half, and yet we will remember this sweet girl. How she used what little strength she could find to help hold her leg up when we changed her diaper, being careful around the open sores scattered on her tiny body. How she opened her mouth, trying to drink the water in her bath. How her face clearly let us know which medicines she liked and which ones she didn’t, and yet she drank them all anyway. How she cried from pain when we picked her up, but allowed us to cuddle her close and comfort her. 

First nap at COTP

Her papa has a year of these memories, from before Podelandine got so sick. He remembers the incredible love that everyone in his family had for Podelandine. He remembers how his baby daughter was beginning to talk. He remembers being her primary caregiver during these last few months of her mama’s illness. He remembers wanting the very best for his baby girl.

As I led her daddy upstairs into our house to say goodbye, we watched him cry over his baby daughter and we cried for his pain much more than our own. He has lost so much in only a couple of weeks, and yet he knows he still has two young kids to raise by himself. He is broken and he is grieving. Because we know his situation is a hard one, even for Haiti, our local church was able to help him with a small amount of money. The reality is, he will use this to pay off the debt from his wife’s funeral and buy food for his other two children.

In Christ Alone

Her funeral was simple. Her papa, a neighbor and several staff members gathered together in our white truck and made the short drive to the cemetery. Her grave was ready when we arrived and her tiny, handmade casket placed inside. Prayers of hope were offered, thanking God for the chance to reflect on Podelandine’s life and reminding us that death on earth is not truly the end. Bible verses were read, offering comfort. A song was sung reminding us that, “in Christ alone, our hope is found.” A little girl, only a year old, was honored that morning as we gathered together. 

And then her daddy, with fresh tears in his sad eyes, came up to each of us individually, to thank us. We did so little, and yet he was so grateful. And we are grateful too. For the chance to be a small part of this family’s story. For the chance to love this little girl and care for her, even for a short time. For how blessed we are to help bring hope when Podelandine’s daddy thought there was none. For how he trusted us to do all we could. And even for the undeniably hard privilege of standing beside Podelandine’s papa as he said goodbye to his precious daughter.

Children of the Promise has given explicit permission for the posting of photos on this site. Photos taken of children in the care of Children of the Promise are not be posted publicly without explicit permission given by Children of the Promise.