CHICAGO — Images of the washed out Haitian hillside where their children's relatives lived have led Peter and Paula Fitzgibbons to fear that their adopted son and daughter have no biological family left.

The strongest bond their children Odeline and Sevvy may have to their homeland now is the way they "serve the spirits" and speak to God.

Every night since Jan. 12, when a devastating earthquake hit the children's homeland, the Fitzgibbons have assembled them in their Evanston, Ill., den for Vodou prayers, part of the couple's effort to preserve their children's ties to Haiti through a religion they argue has been misinterpreted and unfairly portrayed.

With Haitian tunes echoing from the kitchen, Odeline, 9, Sevvy, 8 and their 5-year-old sister, Isa, stand before an altar with their parents, light candles and call upon Papa Legba, the Vodou spirit and gatekeeper who admits other spirits into the sacred circle to hear the family's prayers.

Together, the family whirls and twirls around the living room, pounding drums, shaking tambourines, and chanting to invoke the pantheon of spirits, or lwa.

"Feed the people!"

"Save our children!"

"Find our family!"

Following the advice of international adoption experts, the Fitzgibbons have tried to help their children maintain a cultural connection to Haiti. But they have taken it a step further by including religion.

They believe their children can learn the value of Vodou (properly pronounced VO-doo) in a Christian context.

"(Vodou) is interwoven into every bit of a Haitian person's life," said Paula Fitzgibbons, a former Lutheran pastor. "I'm at least presenting them with some part of their spiritual heritage. I can offer them enough that they will be familiar with Vodou when they get to the point of making their own choices about spirituality and religion."

But the spiritual journey has served a more immediate purpose for Odeline and Sevvy, a sister and brother adopted from Haiti nearly seven years ago. It has helped them feel in touch with their homeland at a time when other connections seem lost.

"I think my family in Haiti feels my prayers," Sevvy said. His sister feels the same way.

"I believe I am helping my family (in Haiti) because maybe they know that I'm here," she said. "The prayers help me to think about my family (in Haiti) more."

Known by the Creole word meaning "sacred," Vodou has been the principle religion of the Haitian population since the 16th century. Born from the fusion of African traditions introduced by slaves and Western traditions such as Roman Catholic rituals, Vodou is a monotheistic religion that believes God is the singular and superior power. But practitioners of Vodou, called serviteurs, call on lwa to intervene much like saints in the Catholic faith.

Vodou believers and experts say the religion bears little resemblance to the derogatory stereotypes of it, which partly are based on Hollywood portrayals of "voodoo" from the early 20th century.

But ever since Protestant missionaries entered Haiti in the 18th century, there has been tension between Christians and Vodou serviteurs, so-called because it is believed they serve the spirits.

The Fitzgibbonses discovered that discord right away when they first arrived in the Caribbean island nation to meet their new children in 2002. Unable to secure a domestic adoption for two years, a fellow pastor had pointed Paula Fitzgibbons to Haiti, where fewer than 300 of more than half a million orphans find a home each year.

Many orphanages had strict rules that required a Christian upbringing. The one where Odeline and Sevvy first lived warned prospective parents to stay away from teaching Creole, Vodou or Haitian history. But she saw no conflict between Vodou and Christianity.

"At the core of those religions is service," she said. "We're serving the spirits and the spirits are doing the work of God. How is that different from honoring Jesus? ... It's very important that the children learn about Jesus and his compassion and how he wants us to live our lives."

But she believed it was also important to preserve their spiritual heritage. So this month, in addition to incorporating Haitian history into the children's homeschool curriculum, cooking Haitian recipes and listening to Haitian music, the family embarked on a spiritual journey — an adventure chronicled on Paula Fitzgibbons' blog: www.raisinglittlespirits.com.

That perspective is cultivated by Lake Street Church, the American Baptist church in Evanston that the Fitzgibbons chose to join five years ago.

Rev. Ann-Louise Haak, associate minister at Lake Street Church, compares the role of spirits in Vodou to the "great cloud of witnesses" surrounding believers that the Apostle Paul discusses in the New Testament.

"We see our role as being that community of kindred spirits to support them as they figure out how to handle this unique situation they have in their family," Haak said. "We believe all people are welcome and there is a space in God for everyone."

Paula Fitzgibbons acknowledges there may be challenges ahead. For example, she does not know how she will approach the common ritual of animal sacrifice with her son Sevvy, a vegetarian with a tender spot for animals. The family will not sacrifice an animal, she said.

For the time being, she will let the children be her guide. Every night, after a dinner that often includes a Haitian recipe, the three children can't wait to slip into their pajamas and pray. Smiling from cheek to cheek, they run out of breath singing, dancing and drumming as the pace and volume of the music builds.

"We're so busy we have not had any kind of consistent prayer time together," Fitzgibbons said. "This journey has given that to us as a family ... They're now requesting this every night. The earthquake expedited everything. We wanted to have a tangible way to pray."

The family also started a collection of child-care supplies for the orphanage where Odeline and Sevvy last lived. Nevertheless, the Fitzgibbons believe prayer has the potential to inspire healing both in Haiti and in the hearts of her own children who carry the wounds that come naturally with adoption.

"It's not like we can show them pictures of Haiti and say 'Look at this beautiful place you've come from. We can't. It's not a pretty place to look at," she said. "But we can stress the spiritual unity and the spiritual strength of their ancestors ... We can teach them how incredibly strong and clever and resilient the people in their country are."

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Vodou, not "voodoo"

Whether writing in English, French or Creole, the correct spelling of the predominant religion in Haiti is Vodou, according to the official orthography of Haitian Creole language, said Terry Rey, chair of the religion department at Temple University.

Derived from the term "Vodoun" in the language of the Fon of Benin in West Africa, and signifying a company or family of spirits, the correct pronunciation is VO-doo.

The name "voodoo" is viewed as a derogatory term loaded with negative connotations "associated with Hollywood portrayals of zombies, ritual bacchanalias, or a conglomeration of exotic spells related to witchcraft and sorcery," said Leslie Desmangles, professor of religion at Trinity College.

"The word 'voodoo' comes out of Hollywood in the 1920s, 30s, 40s as the United States was occupying Haiti, and it served to justify the occupation to a large extent in the eyes of Americans," said Patrick Bellegarde-Smith, professor of Africology, University of Wisconsin-Milwaukee.

Use of the term "voodoo" as a synonym for irrational behavior — "voodoo economics," for example — is considered offensive as well.

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Note: * At Ezili's HLLN we use the oldest phonetic spelling Vodun and pronounced it Vodou

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