Where Heaven Feels Close
A Reflection from Allie on her latest trip to Liberia to visit the Jesus Loves Me Children’s Center
Liberia will always hold a special place in my heart.
From the moment my feet touched the ground in 2018, I sensed that the impact this country would have on us would far outweigh any impact we would have on it. Something in my thinking shifted — the kind of shift that becomes loud when you return to a land of plenty.
We read books about eliminating hurry, minimizing, and living with less, yet we struggle to actually live that way. In many ways, it is almost impossible in the first world. In Liberia, life is simply different. Slow is often the only option because most people must walk. Less becomes more because every item that enters a home has purpose. Basic needs are met day by day just to sustain life.
Life there is not easy. But in some ways, living with less removes a certain kind of pressure — the pressure of constantly striving to be someone you are not.
There are many stories from this trip I could share, but all week my mind kept returning to two moments in particular.
This was the first time I had seen the Jesus Loves Me Children’s Center fully functioning and operating. When we visited in 2022, the ground had just been broken. Seeing the building now was breathtaking. The outside is beautiful, but what is happening inside is nothing short of miraculous.
Every bed holds a child, some far sicker than others. The staff works tirelessly to care for each one. There is no computer system. No AI charting medications or tracking vitals. Everything is written carefully by hand, and yet nothing is overlooked.
Throughout the week children came and went from both the malnourishment ward and the medical ward. It was incredible to watch children regain strength in just a few days with proper nutrition, medicine, and rest.
But it is still a hospital, and very sick children come to hospitals.
One of them was a three-year-old girl named Joanna.
When Joanna arrived she was in a comatose state and was immediately cared for. In the days that followed she required resuscitation. What we witnessed in that moment was both tragic and beautiful. The team moved as one — calm, compassionate, and fully supportive of one another. There was no panic, only purpose. Each person stepped into their role.
Joanna was revived, allowing time for her grandmother and family to come and be with her in her final moments on earth. Later that same day, Joanna went home to Jesus.
A silence fell across the hospital — not awkward or uncomfortable, but sacred. The kind of silence that makes you aware that something holy has just happened.
Her story was sobering, but it also revealed something powerful. The staff worked together like one body with many parts, each person necessary, each role meaningful.
“For just as the body is one and has many parts… so it is with Christ.”
— 1 Corinthians 12:12
Through this one story were many others that ended differently — children healed, strengthened, and discharged. But Joanna’s life reminded us that this world is not our final home, and even in loss, God was present in the unity of His people.
Just up the hill from the hospital is another place filled with hope and healing — a place where everyone is welcomed, regardless of physical or mental ability.
His Safe Haven.
Looking out over the colorful homes on the compound, you almost feel as if heaven is brushing against earth. His Safe Haven is a home for children with special needs, a place not just to live but to thrive — to be loved, known, and cared for.
During community outreach on Mondays, families travel from across the country to bring their children. They come for support, for encouragement, and to learn how to better care for them. They also come to know they are not alone.
Throughout the week we witnessed daily life there: a school lesson, physical therapy sessions, and children laughing while drawing with sidewalk chalk. The joy is unmistakable. It radiates from these children in a way that is hard to explain.
God’s love is visible there.
You feel it, and you leave asking a difficult question:
How do you carry this home with you?
The trip was beautiful, even in its heaviness. Again and again, God showed His intricate design — bringing people together in unlikely places, teaching us to lean on one another, and reminding us that His will is still good even when our earthly hearts struggle to understand it.
Please join us in praying for the staff and patients at Jesus Loves Me Children’s Center. Pray for the mothers, the families, and every child at His Safe Haven. Pray also for our missionary friends, the Tiptons, who faithfully serve day after day, helping the hospital and protecting the compound.
There are many moving parts in this work, and every part matters.
Allie Brown