I've dreaded this day, but it has finally come! I've absolutely loved directing Orphan's Tear these past few years, but there's one thing I love even more—being a mom to my son Jonathan. So with mixed emotions I pass the torch into the very capable hands of my older brother, Stephen Servant

When I arrived at Mt. Zion Orphanage in Haiti last month, I caught myself thinking, I'm glad no Orphan's Tear donors are here with me! That's a rare thought, because almost without exception I'm wishing you could be along with me. But that day I wanted to cry as I witnessed some deplorable conditions there, and I felt embarrassed that we hadn't taken care of these needs sooner! It had been a while since I last visited Mt. Zion, and I felt horrible that the needs even existed.

I suppose having a tender heart is part of the job description for the director of Orphan's Tear. But sometimes I feel that my heart exceeds the tenderness requirements! That possibility entered my mind as my eyes teared up reading a letter I recently received from a little boy in Mexico called Beto (translated by our dear friend and ministry partner Nicole Fitzpatrick). I hope Beto's words touch your heart as well...

"You know...we have to move here," Daryl said to his wife Wanda after witnessing the horrific conditions inside a handicapped ward of a Guatemalan hospital. With deep conviction, she replied with just 2 words: "I know."

"I really don't know how they survive," Pastor Geordany, the director of Mt. Carmel Orphanage, replied when I asked him how Haitians could pay the high food prices in Haiti. The average cost of a gallon of milk is over $9, and a pound of oranges costs about $5!

"I was sad that I had to bring him here, but I knew he would have a better life." With those words Thessoit Belony, translated through Pastor Wildelson, the director of Mount Zion Orphanage in Port-au-Prince, Haiti, told me her story. Mount Zion is a small orphanage crammed into a crowded sea of colorless, half-crumbling cement-block-and-rusty-tin homes on the southwest side of the city. You can see poverty everywhere. You can smell it.