Month: April 2020

Endless Alleluia

“There’s nothing better, there’s nothing better, there’s nothing better than this right now.”

I sang it to John through tear soaked eyes and with an empty heart. Motherhood sure has a way to knock you down and keep you humble.

My normal 7pm-7am perfect sleeper was still wide awake at 3am and had been screaming for 4 hours non stop. I was tired, he was tired, and I was replaying every decision I had made that day… “should I have let him nap earlier? Is what he ate for dinner hurting his tummy? I don’t feel his molars coming through but maybe they are?”

I had lugged in a rocking chair from the front porch and rocked my baby as I held him close and sang to him with my hoarse, shaky voice. This song was what rolled off of my lips, but I definitely did NOT feel the peace and praise that the words brought. Fighting through tears and exhaustion, I continued to sing. As the hours kept passing, I felt John’s body relax into mine as I felt the heavy weight start to lift from my shoulders.

I began to realize that all of the things I was seeing as a burden, were all of the very things I had prayed for years prior.

Being quarentined in Guatemala? There was a time in my life that I’d have given anything to do that. Yet here I was, already forgetting of the blessing of all that God had provided to get us here.

The old wooden rocking chair that felt so uncomfortable after 4 hours of rocking? It was a precious and prized possession that Bryan’s parents bought us specifically for our front porch in Guatemala. I had a place to sit, yet here I was complaining that I had to sit in it instead of in my bed.

The screaming inconsolable baby? At one point we didn’t know if children were possible for us. Yet here in my arms I felt the tiny, tangible, miraculous blessing of having a son. I traced my finger over his tiny nose and sweet little lips and watched him sleep soundly and safely in my arms.

Man, I felt like such a mess. How quickly I can forget about every precious detail in my life when I allow my focus to be shifted from praise to provocation… even right now, in the middle of the mission field and on Easter weekend when my mind should be focused as ever on The Lord, all I wanted to do was wallow in my frustration / fatigue / whatever it was.

This story doesn’t really have an end, as that part is still unfolding. Just as Psalm 30:5 days, our sorrows may last for the night, but JOY comes in the morning. Yes, I got John back to sleep… and Bryan was so kind to take dad duty the following morning so I could sleep in. But I share this in transparency, knowing that some of you too may be complaining about the very things that you’ve prayed for.  Lord, renew my mind. Help me to be ever focused on You and all You have done for me.

But even in my moments of forgetfulness, stubbornness, and complaining… this much I know is true.

My sin was nailed to the cross.

Along with my doubt

My hurt

My past

My mistakes

The hateful things I’ve said

The hurtful things I’m done

The painful thoughts I’ve had

Jesus died for me, knowing the evilness of my heart, yet He still calls me beloved. He calls me redeemed. He calls me worthy. In these moments where the world seems incredibly unstable, place your trust in the one who is unshakeable.


I am loved, and so are you. And oh, how I pray you know that and believe that, especially in a time such as this.

-Whitney


Easter 2020 : the time we ate steak, cheesecake, and used it as an excuse to put on real clothes and walk outside.

This little turd wouldn’t smile for anything, not even for the stupid bubble wand in my hand 🙄
Candid picture of John giving me a purple nurple in public while I scream at Bryan to control his son and poor Bryan is at a loss for what to do. Maybe this is TMI? But it’s hilarious. And it’s real life. And I’m practicing being thankful for my blessings, even if they do misbehave in public… and also it’s my blog so 🤷🏼‍♀️
    His little cranky butt is cute, though 💙

    Hard & Holy

    I stepped outside for a few minutes today to remove my face mask. The heat index reached 110 inside the hospital, and every time I exhaled I felt like I was suffocating myself with my own hot air… meant to protect me, I felt like I was going to die if I had to breathe beneath my N95 for one more minute.

    We’re weary. All of us. And we’re scared– but not in the way that we are timid creatures living in fear, but we are scared because we know the urgency and the weight of this situation and that when the time comes it will be US running fearlessly to the frontlines. Every single healthcare provider across the world is burdened, worried, and carrying the heavy responsibility to help others the best we can while doing no harm… even if it means that we are put in harm’s way.

    Watching the medical system become overburdened in the United States is scary for those of us down here. I cannot count how many times I have had to resuscitate a child for an additional 30 minutes because all of the vents were “ocupado” at the first hospital we stopped at. Hearing just how loud silence can be as you intubate a baby– you see them screaming, but they don’t make a sound. What is overwhelming and devastating in the states could become catastrophic here in Guatemala where resources are less than limited.

    The hard decision was made to temporarily “bar the doors” here at Hope of Life– nobody is allowed in, and nobody is allowed out. While I miss the luxury of being able to buy my own groceries or even pick up fast food on the weekend, I am willing to be part of the team doing what it takes to keep our vulnerable little babies safe… and behind the scenes, hard working Guatemalans have worked 15 consecutive difficult days to keep things running here. All masked. All gowned. All suffocating under their masks just like me.

    I think the most difficult things about this quarantine, is that although we are taking aggressive preventative measures, life is still carrying on.

    We are still watching babies like Santos gain enough weight so he can be strong enough for surgery.

    At over 10 pounds, he has more than TRIPLED his weight in the past two months. He’s ready for surgery as soon as the travel ban is lifted!

    We are still providing physical therapy for babies like Brenda whose bodies are reaping the long term damage from the devastation of severe malnutrition.


    Playing with play doh to increase her strength and mobility in her right hand.
    I know this picture is graphic, but it is REAL. I am thankful Brenda came to us over a month ago before we had to stop accepting new admissions.

    We are still watching miracles unfold before our eyes — just like sweet Franklin. Less than two months ago, he was cyanotic and in severe respiratory distress due to a cardiac condition called PDA. The Lord breathed life into Franklin’s lungs again by sustaining his little body for long enough to be rushed into urgent heart surgery. Now that he has a healthy heart, we anxiously await for him to start gaining weight. It’s going to happen, and it’s going to happen fast!

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    His smile! His tooth! His ever so little beginners belly! Those PINK nail beds!

    And even though so much good is happening within our walls, my heart breaks for the families outside who need help. For the families whose children were starving before the government shutdown. For the parents who made two dollars a day and now make nothing as many jobs have been suspended. For the mama’s who are having to say “it’s not time yet” when their child is asking at 4pm when they can eat their first meal of the day.

    We have already received word of one baby dying and many others who need our help. We are just waiting for the travel bans to be lifted, for the quarantine restrictions to be loosened, and for the world to have a better grip on things before we can risk opening the gates back up to allow others in for help.

    I am begging you. If you are able to, STAY AT HOME. The sooner we flatten the curve, the sooner this goes away. The sooner this goes away, the sooner we can be out in the mountains again to bring in those who desperately need help. This is the heartbeat behind what I do and why we are here.

    If this post stirs your compassion into action, I encourage you to support Hope of Life or one of the missionary families serving here. Closing the gates has also meant cancelling groups that visit here, which is a devastating blow to the ministry’s income. Were you planning to come here and had to cancel? I challenge you to pray about still donating part of your expenses. The gates may be shut, but the work is harder and heavier than ever. And even though God has called us into a season of doing work here that is HARD, it is HOLY as we are watching some truly miraculous things unfold in these children and mama’s.

    I know greater things are yet to come. I feel it. I believe it. We’ve all just gotta make it through this season.

    You are loved,
    Whitney