Judith Pella - A hope beyond

Hope Beyond Hope, Ive Got God!

by Jeanne DeTellis OConnor with Renee Meloche

Copyright 2012 by Jeanne DeTellis OConnor

Published by Presidents Publishing

All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form or by any means electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise without prior written permission.

Cover Design and layout by New Eden Graphics

I dedicate this book to the grace and mercy of our Father who has shown me favor as a mother to George Jr., Charlie, Mary Ann and Timothy. All of my children know God, love God, and serve God. As God gives me days, I believe Ill see all of my grandchildren: Michael, Nathan, Jeremie, Julianne, Angelina, Carita, Luc, Jacob, Kate and Elissa also come to know, love and serve God.

Forward

Fifteen years ago, as I struggled to regain my health from dengue fever, I was trying to edit my first book, A Stubborn Hope. In 2012, as I was editing this book, I was struggling with another health issue. Life brings great joy, special days, holidays, etc. But, life can also bring dark days of sickness or even death. In Christ we have a constantthere is a force that will not let us collapse. We have an indescribable peace beyond our understanding; we smile and we keep walking. It is not by our strength or power, but by the constantly abiding presence of God our Father, His Son Jesus Christ, and the empowering Holy Spirit.

I pulled myself from sleep as the morning light filtered through the open window in front of me. A gentle breeze blew through from the ocean, which ran along our property. It brought some relief from what looked to be like another hot morning here in Haiti.

I turned my head and glanced beside me. My husband, George, was already up early and out the door. We had both looked forward to this November day in 1995a day when a container of supplies were arriving for our our newly established Royal Caribbean Institute. This institute was comprised of three departments: Bible, Business Administration and Education.

Yet something was not right. My body felt like it was being pinned down by a heavy weight. I was perplexed. Although I had had plenty of sleep, I felt unusually tired. I tried to calm my rising fears. I told myself I had plenty of reasons to feel tired. I ran a womens ministry, supervised a food warehouse and oversaw a medical clinic. I worked with volunteer teams from the United States and organized womens conferences. In addition to these duties, I also taught business classes at our Royal Caribbean Institute. No wonder I was tired!

Id had my share of health problems in the past, but surely that was all behind me now. Yet I remained in bed, all the vitality gone from me.

Throwing off my sheet, I pushed aside the mosquito netting that covered my bed and forced my body into an upright position. Planting my feet onto the ceramic floor I paused, breathing heavily from the effort.

A few minutes later, I managed to put on one of my shapeless dressesthis one a drab flowery blue with a rosebud design. Perfect, I thought, for a missionary.

Staring into the large mirror that hung over my rattan dresser, I could tell I had gained a bit of weight. Being Italian, I was a good cookand it sometimes showed. Yet, despite my healthy appetite, I didnt look right. I studied my face closer. My thin lips drew down and my normally bright brown eyes looked lifeless, my face drained of its color. My short brown hair, always a bit unmanageable in the heat with its natural wave, needed a comb through it, but I was too tired to care.

Walking over to my large sliding glass door, I gazed out at George and the crowd of people who had gathered outside our warehouse. The truck delivering our container had arrived.

I took in a deep breath. Normally I would have been one of the first people to greet the truck as it barreled down our dusty dirt road here in Bord-Mer, a tiny village dotted with thatched huts nearby. I was always eager to see what new supplies had arrived. It was as fun as being a kid in a candy shop. As much as I wanted to, however, I couldnt seem to muster the energy to make the short walk over to the container to see what was inside.

Over the next few days, I found it increasingly difficult to get out of bed. Every bone in my body seemed to ache. Soon my temperature was soaring as shooting pains coursed through my body. I felt constantly nauseated. I couldnt eat and couldnt sleep. I was not getting any better.

After a week, I knew I had to get to Orlando, Florida and find a doctor. Two of my sons, George Jr. and Timothy, lived in Orlando and worked at our New Missions office. Packing a small suitcase, I headed for the truck where two of our missionaries were waiting to drive me to the airport in Port au Prince.

As I walked across our mission courtyard, I spotted my husband, leading a meeting with some Haitian pastors. Still fit at 60 with strong white teeth and warm brown eyes that sparkled with intelligence, he looked just as handsome to me as the day wed first met when I was only thirteen. He was a young Bible school student who had preached at our church in Massachusetts that Sunday. As he spoke, he challenged those who wanted to go into Christian service to come forward. As the congregation sang the words to I Surrender All, I slipped out of my pew and headed toward the front, eagerly awaiting the day when God would use me on the mission field.

Two years later, George returned to lead our youth ministry. We began dating, and as soon as I turned 18, we were married. For the next 25 years I served as a pastors wife while raising our four children. Then George and I started our work in Haiti. What an adventure-filled 14 years it had been! How well I remembered arriving in this poor and desolate country back in January, 1983living in tents on the Leogane Plain, twenty-five miles southwest of the capital city of Port au Prince. At that time, we started feeding and educating 161 children through New Missions, the organization that George and I had founded. Now, in 1997, that number had reached more than four thousand.

The Haitians in Neply, who lived just a quarter of a mile from our mission, were the first people we served. We fed their children, gave them an education, and provided them with medical care. I led devotionals for the women, bonding closely with them. And when food prices skyrocketed due to a drought and embargo, I gave the women stainless steel macaroni machines, which required no electricity, as a way to help them economically. After showing them how to make the noodles using flour, eggs, and water, and then how to dry out the noodles and package them, they were each given a sack of flour. The women used these machines to make noodles to not only help feed their families, but to sell in their villages as well. I loved playing my part in giving the women the opportunity to feed and support their own families.

Now, as I neared the truck that would take me to the airport, my shoulders slumped. I was leaving these people I loved so much. My mind taunted me as I felt like I was deserting them. Waves of guilt swept over me. I was letting the mission down. I was letting George down. After all, illness had separated us before. I had spent weeks living with my parents in Massachusetts while recuperating from double pneumonia, then later from a severe case of resistant malaria and parasites. But this time it felt different. I pushed back the thought that this time it could be permanent. Perhaps I wouldnt be back.

Willing my legs to keep moving forward until I reached the truck, tears brimmed my eyes as I climbed in.