David Dances
Last month, the earthly world lost a warrior. He was a child like none other I had ever met.
No one but his mama really knows anything about those first years of his life or even his real name. For the rest of us, his life truly began around the age of 2 or 3 after he was abandoned in a Haitian hospital.
For a portion of his life, he was a forgotten handicapped child that that was tucked away in a corner and forgotten at mealtimes. His screams seemed to fall on deaf ears from inside the locked bunkhouse as he tried to let everyone know that he too was hungry.
About 6 Decembers ago, I discovered this little boy at the orphanage I had come to consider my second home. I had already been there over 24 hours and I never knew this kid was there. One day, I was passing by his bunkhouse during a time when everyone was supposed to be at lunch and I heard a wailing. Come to find out it was a floppy little boy with cerebral palsy doing his best to communicate in the only way he knew how.
There was something about this little forgotten boy that made me feel weirdly connected to him. After I found out he existed, I decided for the rest of that week I would make sure he was just as much a part of the action as everyone else. He was the Jasmine to my Aladdin, and we were embarking on a magical carpet ride to experience a whole new world together. He spent a lot of time riding on my back taking in the sights, smells, and hustle and bustle of orphanage life. The kind of life one misses out on if they only ever know the inner four walls of a dark, sweltering, smelly bunkhouse. I found that he had an insanely sweet personality and he was quickly taking up room in my soul. To read about my thoughts after I first met him 6 years ago click here.
I would continue to love this boy so deeply for the next 6 years. One summer I saw him absolutely thriving when one of the new special needs nannies fell in love with him and treated him as her own. His face glowed, like a newly lit flame as if someone had awakened something inside him. Under her care and love, David learned to sit and hold his head up giving him a strength he never had before. Then for some reason that nanny was fired. The next time I saw David he had regressed. He could no longer sit upright in his chair, nor could he hold up his own head. From then on, David never really thrived again. Eventually, the orphanage started to go downhill. Food became more scarce, staff stopped showing up for work because no one was being paid. I watched as David's weight dwindled into nothing until all that was left was bare bones covered by thin skin.
Many people wanted to find a new place for David and 5 of his other sisters with special needs but the sinful humans controlling his orphanage saw him and his siblings as more of pawns than starving human children. So David continued to sit day in and day out in puddles of his own urine and feces as the flies continually swarmed his tiny face as if they could sense his end was near. Each time I went to visit him I said my goodbyes just in case he was not there the next time I came. I was powerless to do anything about their tragic situation other than visit them and let them know that they are not forgotten and insignificant, but rather loved deeply by their Heavenly Father even though the earthly world around them had failed them at every turn. I too was part of that world around them that failed to effectively change their situation. And that thought may always plague me.
Finally, when things got so bad the people in charge of the orphanage got scared that they would have a bunch of dead handicapped kids on their hands so they allowed them to be moved. This is where David's story of redemption begins.
He and his 5 sisters were taken to a beautiful oasis in the heart of the dusty capital of Haiti. A place teeming with other kids just like them with caregivers who put their heart and soul into caring for them every single day. It has been about 4 months since the 6 OLTCH special needs kids were placed in this new place of love, peace, and healing. And it was in this place that sweet David took his last breath here on this earth. Knowing that my sweet boy is no longer here on this earth crushes my selfish soul when I imagine a world where I will never see his drooly smile again, or watch as he lights up at the sight of fruit snacks. Yet my heart rejoices for the fact that he is no longer confined to a wheelchair, he is no longer only able to speak in inaudible sounds, but now his body is made whole. Now he is able to dance, sing, and play. Im sure by now he is already chatting it up with his sister Belinda who we lost a year ago.
God's timing is ALWAYS perfect whether I understand it or not. David did not die lying in pools of his own feces with flies swarming his frail malnourished body as everyone thought he would. David died in his sleep, freshly bathed, with a clean diaper, in a wheelchair he called all his own, under the most serene mango tree I have ever seen, surrounded by his family and new friends. I could never have ever dreamed of a more beautiful homegoing than that. M' ap vini ti fre'm.
No one but his mama really knows anything about those first years of his life or even his real name. For the rest of us, his life truly began around the age of 2 or 3 after he was abandoned in a Haitian hospital.
For a portion of his life, he was a forgotten handicapped child that that was tucked away in a corner and forgotten at mealtimes. His screams seemed to fall on deaf ears from inside the locked bunkhouse as he tried to let everyone know that he too was hungry.
About 6 Decembers ago, I discovered this little boy at the orphanage I had come to consider my second home. I had already been there over 24 hours and I never knew this kid was there. One day, I was passing by his bunkhouse during a time when everyone was supposed to be at lunch and I heard a wailing. Come to find out it was a floppy little boy with cerebral palsy doing his best to communicate in the only way he knew how.
There was something about this little forgotten boy that made me feel weirdly connected to him. After I found out he existed, I decided for the rest of that week I would make sure he was just as much a part of the action as everyone else. He was the Jasmine to my Aladdin, and we were embarking on a magical carpet ride to experience a whole new world together. He spent a lot of time riding on my back taking in the sights, smells, and hustle and bustle of orphanage life. The kind of life one misses out on if they only ever know the inner four walls of a dark, sweltering, smelly bunkhouse. I found that he had an insanely sweet personality and he was quickly taking up room in my soul. To read about my thoughts after I first met him 6 years ago click here.
I would continue to love this boy so deeply for the next 6 years. One summer I saw him absolutely thriving when one of the new special needs nannies fell in love with him and treated him as her own. His face glowed, like a newly lit flame as if someone had awakened something inside him. Under her care and love, David learned to sit and hold his head up giving him a strength he never had before. Then for some reason that nanny was fired. The next time I saw David he had regressed. He could no longer sit upright in his chair, nor could he hold up his own head. From then on, David never really thrived again. Eventually, the orphanage started to go downhill. Food became more scarce, staff stopped showing up for work because no one was being paid. I watched as David's weight dwindled into nothing until all that was left was bare bones covered by thin skin.
Many people wanted to find a new place for David and 5 of his other sisters with special needs but the sinful humans controlling his orphanage saw him and his siblings as more of pawns than starving human children. So David continued to sit day in and day out in puddles of his own urine and feces as the flies continually swarmed his tiny face as if they could sense his end was near. Each time I went to visit him I said my goodbyes just in case he was not there the next time I came. I was powerless to do anything about their tragic situation other than visit them and let them know that they are not forgotten and insignificant, but rather loved deeply by their Heavenly Father even though the earthly world around them had failed them at every turn. I too was part of that world around them that failed to effectively change their situation. And that thought may always plague me. 
Finally, when things got so bad the people in charge of the orphanage got scared that they would have a bunch of dead handicapped kids on their hands so they allowed them to be moved. This is where David's story of redemption begins.
He and his 5 sisters were taken to a beautiful oasis in the heart of the dusty capital of Haiti. A place teeming with other kids just like them with caregivers who put their heart and soul into caring for them every single day. It has been about 4 months since the 6 OLTCH special needs kids were placed in this new place of love, peace, and healing. And it was in this place that sweet David took his last breath here on this earth. Knowing that my sweet boy is no longer here on this earth crushes my selfish soul when I imagine a world where I will never see his drooly smile again, or watch as he lights up at the sight of fruit snacks. Yet my heart rejoices for the fact that he is no longer confined to a wheelchair, he is no longer only able to speak in inaudible sounds, but now his body is made whole. Now he is able to dance, sing, and play. Im sure by now he is already chatting it up with his sister Belinda who we lost a year ago.
God's timing is ALWAYS perfect whether I understand it or not. David did not die lying in pools of his own feces with flies swarming his frail malnourished body as everyone thought he would. David died in his sleep, freshly bathed, with a clean diaper, in a wheelchair he called all his own, under the most serene mango tree I have ever seen, surrounded by his family and new friends. I could never have ever dreamed of a more beautiful homegoing than that. M' ap vini ti fre'm.
David Alexis
???-2017
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