As I talk about my experiences in Haiti, it always feels like it happened just yesterday, when in reality, it has been more than twenty years ago that I lived there, in Cap-Haitien as a missionary nurse. Haiti was a much gentler place then, and no one but the police had a gun. My room-mate, Flo, and I lived in a beautiful home out side the city, and far from Port-au-Prince. It was during the exit of Papa Doc Duvalier, and the fighting and chaos were far less where we lived, so we were able to keep our medical clinics going most of the time, with out threat of violence from the many coups that took place while we were there.
I am now retired from nursing, though I had an eight year stint of careing for my mother as she was in her nineties. The Lord took her home when she was ninety-seven.
Now, I live in the old gold mining town of Tonopah, Nevada. Two of my sons live here, so I am frequently met by children, grand-children, and even great grand-children in the Post Office, the grocery store, or at church.