| Cendina is Haitian and 17 years old. | | She lives a few miles from us. Cendina was sent by her mother to the Dominican Republic to live with an older sister because a masked gunman had entered her school, shooting and killing one of her classmates. So, for the past two years, she has been living as a refugee, illegally and in fear. | | Jason has been working with Richardson, the father of her child, for several years. He is a day laborer, and Jason and the team have tried to help him change his life and take responsibility for his poor choices. Even though not a good worker, they have continued to give grace and try to mentor him. Jason will tell you that he has fired Richardson several times and he just keeps coming back. Things work a little differently here. 🙂 | A few months ago, Jason asked me to put together some diapers and baby supplies to give him because his girlfriend had their baby. I met Cendina for the first time a few days later. | | When Richardson brought her to our apartment, I was surprised that this was his baby’s mother. I thought the person he called “his woman” was more of a child herself. | | After spending some time with her that afternoon, I realized she needed a lot of help as a new mother. The baby was sick and wouldn’t sleep, she said. So I started asking her questions about the baby’s habits. I’ve managed to keep my own four children alive, so I thought maybe I could help. | | I quickly noticed one thing that could contribute to her baby’s problem. My heart sunk upon peeling back his soaking wet diaper. It looked like the entire diaper area, every part of skin the diaper touched, was blistered and looked painted pink. | | “What has baby been eating?” I asked. “Just crackers,” she said. | | I was stunned when she said it. A six-week-old baby eating crackers? “Oh, honey,” I said in the most compassionate way I could muster through my surprise. “Babies can’t eat crackers. His little belly cannot process that kind of food yet.” This was completely new information for her. | | This story has a couple more disturbing details, but I can’t recount them all in this space. The main point is that that day, I helped Cendina learn how to breastfeed effectively and gave her some basic baby care suggestions. Many things a woman might know by intuition or learned at prenatal visits were lost on her. I will say it again. Things are just different here. | | Cendina told me her sister had kicked her out when she got pregnant. I committed to helping her, and she promised me that until further notice, she would exclusively breastfeed. No crackers, no chips, no fried chicken… breastmilk only. I know this sounds crazy, but I’ve seen some things. She has called me “madre” since that day and asked me to be her son’s godmother. This honor isn’t warranted and makes me slightly uncomfortable, but she is a young girl without anyone around to guide her. Jason and I have tried to come alongside, and we spend as much time with her and the baby as possible. She has suffered and lost so much innocence and she doesn’t even know it. | | I have a deep longing for Cendina to know that Jesus sees her and that His love can mend her broken heart. | | Our kids love Cendina and the baby. They say we should adopt her and think she and the baby (pictured below) should come and live with us. It’s a sweet sentiment. If only it were that easy. | I stopped by unannounced a week ago today to give her some baby cereal check in on them. | | I pulled back the curtain of their 1-room, corrugated scrap metal house and stepped in to find Cendina shaken and crying with hard, wide eyes. She was slumped and sitting on the corner of the bed, wearing a dingy white nursing bra with her baby on her lap. He was screaming, all bundled up with sweat dripping down his face. A little boy was also there, silent and scared, clinging to Cendina. | | Richardson was standing in the other corner of the room, scrolling on his phone. | | I pushed the mosquito net out of my way and went to her, putting my hand on her, trying to look her square in the eye. | | “What happened?” I asked. | | No answer. I asked again; this time, I directed the question to the little boy. Silence. | | With adrenaline now fully engaged, I looked at Richardson. I demanded to know what had just happened that Cendina was in such a state. | | “Nada.” | | “Nothing” was his answer, but that answer was utterly unacceptable. When my mama bear kicks in, you better watch out. (Just kidding, but really.) | | I took the baby from her, gave him to my 14-year-old daughter Paisley and instructed her to take him outside and calm him down. Another friend who was with me helped her. | | I guided Cendina outside and away from Richardson and tried to get her to talk, but she was rattled and wouldn’t even look at me. Eventually, she told me the story: | | He had been talking to some people in town. Then, at home, seemingly out of nowhere, he grew irritated. He started yelling at her, saying she was stupid and had no family except him. She should be thankful that he cared for her, that she didn’t know how to care for the baby. He was using foul words, and then finally, it escalated to him striking her. “Where did he hit you?” I asked. | | “All over my body.”, she said. | | I begged her… begged her to get in my car with the baby and the boy and stay at our house for the night. | | At this point, Richardson came over to us so that he could hear our conversation. His presence made her stop talking. | | “You hit her?” | | I asked with more contempt in my voice than I care to admit. | | He smirked and clicked his tongue… like he was blowing it all off. “She’s lying,” he said arrogantly. | | Heaven help me, people. | | There were some bitter words spoken in Kreole exchanged between them. It’s hard to explain what the look in her eyes was when he continued to deny everything and called her a liar. It was like a moment of gaslighting… manipulation… he was denying everything and trying to cause her to question what happened. | | I was disgusted and I was dizzy. | | I went home and told Jason. He and I went back over together to find the house quiet and only Cendina and the baby inside. Richardson had gone out after our earlier visit. Cendina said he had grabbed some of his clothing, thrown them in a bag, and left without explanation. My heart aches for Cendina. And the hard truth is that there are so many more stories like hers we encounter. Please join me in praying that Cendina’s eyes would be opened to the truth of the gospel! Read more of Cendina’s story in my next update. Click here to read it. |
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