Our hearts break a little more with each new conversation with Father Sadoni Leon (Director of St. Vincent’s Center for Handicapped Children in Port-au-Prince) only to hear that the food for the children at St. Vincent’s is becoming even more scarce. The Center—which serves as a dormitory, school and community for the deaf and blind as well as those missing limbs and children who have impaired cognitive abilities—lost it’s main food donor in 2013. Ever since, Fr. Sadoni has been working fervently to establish a new food source for the children so they can grow and thrive while in his care.
Currently, the residential students and the live-in caregivers receive two meals per day. The breakfast is light, usually bread and butter. Lunch consists of a single plate of beans and rice. All meal service for non-residential students (close to 200 children) has been put on hold with no reinstatement date in sight.
In an attempt to ward off hunger pains at bedtime, older residents—mainly teens and young adults—set aside a portion of their lunch to eat in the evening. The younger kids often don’t fare as well. No doubt it is difficult for the smallest ones to set aside part of their meal when their stomachs are still growling.
To add to their plight, the filter on the Center’s water purification system needed to be changed and the system shut down, cutting off the water supply. When the technician came to replace the filter, the custodian of the building wasn’t available so the water service has been temporarily interrupted. Thankfully, this should be rectified quickly, hopefully by the end of this week.
The situation is bleak now, but there is hope! Our partners from West Tennessee were at St. Vincent’s last week to provide well-child checkups and reported that the kids are still relatively healthy. They were kind enough to snap a few pics of the kids at lunch time which we share in this report. The kids’ spirits were high and, as usual, they thoroughly enjoyed having the US team in their midst for the week. They are doing remarkably well under the circumstances.
While a partnership of teams researches both aquaponic and aeroponic garden solutions for the Center’s long-term sustainability and to minimize future food shortages, there is still a real need to fill the children’s bellies. This, friends, is where your support is critical.
With your gifts to this project, we are able to continue to feed the children in the short-term. THANK YOU for both your gifts and sharing this need with others who may be in a position to help. Every gift counts.
What does our name mean? Over the past 10 years we've answered this question dozens of times, but our recent encounter with Widline, a 14-year-old Haitian girl, explains it beautifully. We'd like to share her story with you.
The Red Thread Promise's name is rooted in an ancient Chinese proverb that speaks of a silken red thread of destiny that connects us all. It is said that this thread may tangle or stretch, yet never break. People who are destined to connect will do so, regardless of location or circumstance. When we feel the tug of the red thread from a child in need, it is our promise to help.
Over the past few months, Widline began tugging. And it's through an unlikely set of circumstances that we met her.
In the summer of 2012, in a small village on the far west peninsula of Haiti, Widline was with friends, doing what they usually do when the intense Haiti heat reaches the brutal point; they were taking turns jumping off a ridge into the Grande Anse River. Childhood fun turned to tragedy when Widline made her final jump. As she began the plunge into the cool river, she struck a submerged tree limb, sustaining serious injuries that left her in severe pain.
Doctors are rare in her isolated community. She hurt constantly for four months before she was able to be seen. The initial diagnosis: a spinal injury for which she received a brace and crutches. But her young body had already begun to heal incorrectly, leaving her with a permanent limp and pain, unable to navigate the dirt paths safely in her community, go to school or help around the house. Her life was turned upside-down in a single moment.
American volunteers working in her village came to know Widline and her family. Touched by her circumstances, they wanted to help this little girl. The red thread became visible as their team began the lengthy process to secure her a passport and raise funds for corrective surgery in Chicago (USA).
Knowing that it may take the better part of a year for Widline to make it to the states, mutual friends of both organizations asked if The Red Thread could help. A storm of emails and conference calls ensued, making the red thread visible again, as we connected Widline to our partner, orthopedic surgeon Dr. Bheki Khumalo (TN). Dr. Khumalo agreed to see Widline during his visit to Haiti the next week. Following a series of x-rays and a full evaluation, it was determined that she did not have a spinal injury, but rather a fractured hip. Dr. Khumalo proposed a comprehensive plan for her treatment in Haiti, saving thousands of dollars and avoiding the tremendous culture shock that a child from a remote village would likely sustain in urban Chicago.
The red thread wove its silken way through this child’s journey: from a remote village to a team of American volunteers to the Red Thread Promise, and finally to Dr. Khumalo. Each of us felt its tug, urging us to work together for this ONE child’s health and wellbeing. Sometimes it takes money; sometimes a volunteer willing to go the extra mile; and sometimes it takes phone calls and emails to make a lasting difference in a child’s life.
That’s what The Red Thread Promise is all about: advocating for needy children to provide the best medical care available to kids like Widline who have no access to the treatment they need to lead healthy, productive lives. That’s her story and our story, connected by the red thread of destiny. That’s who we are. And we’re glad you’re a part of it.
While most children utter their first word when they’re around a year old, Christopher’s first words came when he was eleven: horse, trot fast. Not your typical first words, but his mother, Felicia, was ecstatic to hear them!
Christopher’s severely autistic. He’s thirteen now, and he has been dealing with his diagnosis since he was a toddler.
Christopher’s symptoms became apparent before his third birthday, and Felicia, immediately began searching for help for him. Fortunately, she found Babies Can’t Wait, a Georgia Department of Health program for infants up to three years old with special needs. Thus began their journey on the road that is so familiar to thousands of families: the constant search for help for a child.
For families like Christopher’s, life assumes a new rhythm with the diagnosis: therapy several times each week, frequent and multiple doctors’ appointments.
While therapy may look simple to a typically developing person, it is hard work for children. Kids with disabilities often spend hours each week making their bodies develop new skills, skills that do not come naturally to them. For many children, therapy is temporary. Within a few months, or perhaps a couple of years, the problem is resolved and the child is back on track developmentally. For children like Christopher, therapy becomes part of life and continues for many years, on into adulthood.
Thankfully, resources and services for young special needs kids can be quite good. However, just like many other parents in this same situation, Felicia found out that as her son grew older, those resources dwindle dramatically. She found herself as a single mom dealing with two boys, facing the challenges of a special needs child and footing devastating medical expenses on her own.
After eight years of clinical therapy, Christopher’s doctor decided to take a new approach, and prescribed hippotherapy for this budding teenager. Felicia found McKenna Farms and Christopher began equine therapy.
And he began to talk.
What a milestone for a family whose child has never spoken a word! Their world changed in an instant. Now, after two years of hippotherapy, Christopher has graduated to therapeutic riding.
Now, when Christopher wants to go out, he can say “shoes.” If he needs a shower, he says “wash-wash.” When it’s time to go the bathroom, he can tell his mom “flush toilet.”
After two successful years of hippotherapy, Christopher has graduated to therapeutic riding, which will help him maintain and improve flexibility, balance, and muscle strength. In order to maintain continuous progress, consistent weekly therapy is vital. Felicia is able to pay for one therapeutic riding session a month. Jacob’s Fund underwrites the other three sessions each month to ensure uninterrupted therapy for Christopher, to maximize his potential.
Christopher’s speech triumph and the amazing and sometimes unexpected accomplishments of kids like him are what drive Jacob’s Fund‘s efforts. Your support makes it possible. We simply could not do this without you. Thank you. And please click on the link below for our video showing what your support means to disabled children.