This past Saturday started out like any other Saturday. We were all buzzing around Hope Center, cleaning the dorms for the next team, packing away the groceries the cooks bought in preparation for another week of team meals, reorganizing the clinic for another week of seeing patients, etc. when suddenly there was a loud rap on the back gate of the compound. When Tony opened the gate, there was a thin, young woman who could barely walk, obviously in tremendous pain, holding her hand that had been loosely wrapped in gauze but was quite saturated with blood. Two men held her up on either side, and they were all very much in distress. Tony quickly helped the woman to the clinic and began to check on the injury. She explained to him that someone came to her house that morning and when she opened the door, the person at the door attacked her with a machete and nearly sliced her hand off. Her hand was deeply gashed across her palm and on around to the top side. The tendon of her pinky finger was obviously severed because it was hanging to the side and she could not lift it. Tony was afraid bones were cut as well. As soon as he saw that the tendon was cut, he realized we needed to get her to a hospital. About the time he was headed to the house to check on some things, I walked out and could immediately tell by the look on his face and his three unfinished sentences started at once that something was terribly wrong. He explained to me what was going on and I rushed over to the clinic to see how I could help. As soon as I saw her, my heart wrenched for her and I knew I needed to go with her to the hospital. The two men with her wanted to take her to the hospital on a motorcycle tap-tap, and she clearly would not have made it to a hospital that way. She couldn’t even walk! I asked Tony if I could go with her to the hospital, and he said I couldn’t go to Port au Prince, but I could go as far as to Ganthier to help secure a tap-tap to get her to the hospital. We lifted her into the truck and she immediately fell back on my shoulder in tears. I held her and began to pray. On the way down the road, we passed Jacques’ truck near the orphanage. Tony asked Jacques if he could take her since he speaks good Creole as well as English. We switched over to his truck and off we went. She wimpered softly through the fog that the medicines had brought upon her, and tears continued to gently stream down her gaunt, ebony cheeks. Jacques proceeded to make phone calls to see where we needed to go. I continued to pray. He decided to take her to a clinic in Fond Parisienne that has an ambulance service and doctor on duty. We took her in to see the doctor. He decided to x-ray her hand to see the extent of the damage. Hallelujah, there were no severed bones, however, he confirmed that the pinky tendon was severed and that would need to be fixed before sewing her up. He wrote us a letter of admittance to the emergency care hospital in Tabar, gave her a pain injection, and off we went again, this time to Port au Prince. (He would not agree to an ambulance) I decided to sing to her to see if that would help calm her spirits. She slowly drifted off into a deep sleep as we jostled around in the back seat of the truck while passing over portions of the highway that were covered in pot holes, cracks, and rough terrain. After driving for about 45 minutes, we finally reached the emergency care facility. I took her in while Jacques parked the truck. The hospital staff had me take her over to a gurney in an open waiting area then communicated to me that I would need to wait in the waiting area where there were no less than 70 people. After praying with her one more time, I obeyed and waited for Jacques. He informed me that her family had called and that they were on their way to the hospital too. After being assured that they were almost there, we decided to go on out to the truck to prepare to head back to Hope Center. After a few minutes of waiting, Jacques said, “There’s more to this story than just a guy attacking her with a machete. This lady is involved with voodoo.” He explained that she had said some things to him in Creole that I didn’t pick up on. From there, we proceeded into a conversation about the voodoo culture and the things that are practiced and believed in Haiti connected with voodoo. It is truly something that most Americans simply cannot wrap our brains around. One thing is for sure. It is very sad, very violent, and very evil. I am praying that Marie realizes that Jesus loves her and that He is the reason she has survived this terrible act of violence. I pray that she will return to our clinic soon to see Tony and hear more about the love of our savior, Jesus Christ. I pray that she will be saved and healed and will no longer be tormented by the life she has been living under the curse of voodoo and violence. I pray that she knows she is loved. My heart is heavy for Marie tonight. I wonder if she is at home now. I wonder if she is thinking about the prayers she heard whispered over her. I pray that the Holy Spirit will give her peace tonight and that she will KNOW where that peace is coming from.