God-(not)Forsaken

Detaching

2011-07-20T13:21:00.000-07:00

This post is off the subject a little, but I thought it might encourage some...

I was thinking about our business today, wondering if its inception and success were ideas/dreams/visions/promises from God or if it was conceived in the hearts and minds of my husband and me. I’m sure Abraham and Joseph wondered the same things about their dreams of sons and greatness (even though the scriptures seem to communicate that there was no doubt they were promises from God, and they believed that all the way from promise to fulfillment.)

But in the pondering, and the praying I have been forced to somehow marry the idea of great faith – believing that we will succeed and overcome the obstacles before us – and submission to failure, if that is what God really wants. The goal should be to please God with our faith AND our submission, regardless of the outcome.

So this leads me to believe that I must disentangle myself from the clutches of the object of our hopes. I cannot let the dream of a successful business of my own become the goal. Same with other types of dreams. Abraham couldn’t hang on to the hope of having a son; he had to cling to God Himself. I cannot hang on to the hope of a promise fulfilled; I must cling to God, and let Him take me wherever He desires.

So do we not ever hope for anything, or work toward a goal, or set plans? No. This is one of those mysterious unions of faith and works, of submission to the will of God and forging ahead with what we believe is promised; of free will and pre-ordination. I believe God wants both in us. He wants us to press in and pray and then find that which we believe He is birthing in us. But He also wants us to lay those dreams down on an altar of sacrifice, to see if we are attached to the dream or to Him.

That is exactly what took place with Abraham. I’m sure Abraham felt like he laid his dream down over and over again in the long, long wait for a promised son. And then, Isaac was born. The beloved son. The long-awaited promised one. And then, God required Abraham to kill that dream. It doesn’t seem to make any sense. But this is what God wants of all of us. To be attached to Him, to cling to Him…not to the promises He makes to us, or the dreams He gives us. Yet He still wants us to trust Him for them.

Where is our affection today?

Construction and Micro-lending

2011-07-15T10:24:00.000-07:00

I just returned from another short visit to see my friends in Haiti and see how we can best encourage and help them in their efforts to bring recovery and improvement to this beautiful land. It was encouraging to see continued progress on Pastor Val's site in Bongnotte. A new church is almost complete. Temporary housing and school buildings are in place. Children are healthy and well-fed. There is still a long way to go, but each time I hike up the hills behind the orphanage, I look out over the beautiful countryside and think that this is the future of Haiti, out here, where the quality of life is so much better than in the city. I hugged some kids I have seen for years at the orphanage, and saw some new faces. Two little boys (brothers?) clung together, the older one who was maybe 4, taking care of the little two-year old, sharing his candy and holding his hand everywhere they went.

I have wondered for a long time, why it is a relatively accepted practice in some places to give up your children, if you cannot afford to feed them. It is an affront to our middle-class American sensitivities to even imagine such a thing. It is a rare instance here in the US that a precious son or daughter is given to a relative to raise, due to death, incarceration or abuse. But very seldom do we hear of a child being given over to a local pastor with little explanation other than, "I just can't afford to have another mouth to feed."

This is not unusual in places that suffer from such a deplorable lack of income producing activities. So many heads-of-households lack jobs. Some may possess a decent amount of education, and even some skills, but nationwide, Haiti and other countries like it, doesn't have a healthy economy to create and sustain jobs.

The problems in Haiti are numerous, and I would not pretend to understand the all the causes, or the solutions. It is overwhelming to think about, and to look into the faces of happy children, and wonder what the future holds for each of them.

But, there are some glimmers of hope, and I believe some doors of opportunity are opening in the little village of Bongnotte, in Leogane Province. And we have the privilege to partner with some forward thinking locals. Perhaps Bongnotte will be a model for other rural towns to grow, coax people out of filthy, overcrowded Port au Prince, and back to their respective home towns.

Bongnotte is where our friend, Pastor Franklin Val has been pastoring a church for over 40 years and where he established Val Children's Home Care some 24 years ago. After visiting him and the children several times, I learned that not all the kids there are orphans. They almost all have some family, and some even have parents. So I started to ask why. Why do families give up their beloved children? The answer is simply that they cannot afford to take care of them. And why not? Because there is no work.

So what is the answer? Well, one answer is to help grow the economy and give people the tools needed to provide for their families. This can be done through a micro-lending program.

Pastor Val has been thinking on this. He selected 5 trustworthy men in his church that needed work, to partner with him in a motorcycle taxi business. This is the most efficient method of travel on the rutted and muddy rural roads. The idea is this: five motorcycles are funded from donations. The bike is then lease/purchased over a one year period, with the owner working off his low-interest loan for the bike. As the owner begins to make money as a taxi service, each month, he makes a payment, some of which goes to pay off the bike, and some of which goes into another account to finance other small businesses. At the end of the payment period, the man owns the bike outright and can keep all of his profits. The money can then be re-invested into another bike or small business venture, a service is provided to the community, and a family is provided for!

Another idea that is brewing, is the construction of a solar bakery. Bongnotte sits three miles from the main road, and is the gateway to many more mountain villages even more remote. Access to bread is non-existent, but is something that everyone wants. By building a bakery (using donated funds to kick-start the project), jobs and skills training can be provided. Everyone from the manager to the bakers to the sales force can benefit, as well as the community having some coveted bread. And it will potentially run on power/heat from the sun. Research is commencing on how this can be accomplished.

Further still, another friend is starting a business that will benefit farmers, produce better crops and provide income for himself. Again, it is being launched in the rural agricultural areas in and around places like Bongnotte, where there is vast verdant farmland.

What I especially like about this, is that the ideas were birthed by people to whom the culture belongs. It is not my idea, but the brain-child of a man who has labored in this community for the better part of his adult life. He knows what would work. He knows what is needed. We are just his friends who can help kick-start it.

My favorite quote of the trip embodies the feisty spirit of Pastor Val, who is 70 years old. While talking about his replacement, he said, "I am getting old. And I might only have 50 years left..."

I love that. May he live to be 120!

Progress!

2011-03-07T13:17:00.000-08:00

Ahhh...5 am and my head is finally hitting the pillow after 24 hours. What a way to wrap up an incredible week in Haiti. My friend, Stacey and I covered quite a few square miles on this trip, and in typical fashion, there was never a dull moment. Visiting Pastor Val and the children at Val Children's Home Care, ended up being just a small part of the trip. There are many people sitting up and taking notice of Haiti right now, and we were in the midst of it. Every day was full of interesting and diverse experiences:

Monday - travel day, awesome reunion with our hosts, with some Japanese curry for dinner. The children both gave up their rooms for us, so we each had our own bed; such a blessing.
Tuesday - Met Jean Marc Zamor, Regent University PhD candidate and Haitian pastor. He took us to a beautiful spot near the Dominican border to see the 200 acres where he is building Haiti Providence University. The first building is well under way. It is very exciting to see such great faith; such a huge undertaking and funded largely by Haitian churches!
Wednesday - I spoke at the chapel service at Quisqueya Christian School, telling them my story about the earthquake, and encouraging the teens to seek out their own relationship with Christ. There are many students there now that are not necessarily from Christian families. After, I took Stacey up to a lovely spot called Boutellier on a mountain overlooking Port au Prince, and then up to the Baptist Haiti Mission for lunch and some shopping. We met a two-month old whose mama was in the hospital with TB, and the missionary that brought them in from the mountains. Had dinner with Junior and Joyce and mapped out the rest of our week.
Thursday - Off to the beach for a day. It's important to me to show people this wonderful side of Haiti. Stacey's commentary: "This would be a great place for a vacation!"
Friday - We met with Anne, Miselene's aunt, in St. Marc and she led us to Hatte in the Artibonite Valley to see her village and meet her family. Miselene is the little girl that came to the US for treatment at a local hospital for cancer...she has recently passed away after a real battle for her life but we wanted to stay in contact with her family. This is the area where the heaviest concentration of cholera was. After a dusty hour-long ride through rice fields, we arrived at the most impoverished village I have ever seen: no one had shoes, filthy and sick children, no livestock, not even a chicken, etc. We gathered in a room with the patriarch, Anne's father, and his 11 children and grandchildren - about 60 people in all. As the day went on, we learned that some men had come and stolen their land and livestock last year, ran the local pastor and school headmaster out of town, and they are really vulnerable. We also discovered that the patriarch was the local witch doctor and our meeting was held in a voodoo temple! There was demon-possessed woman in our midst who became a little violent with a stick and a rock while we were praying for the children. They call her "Cholera." We gave some money to Anne to buy some food and to give them some ability to get started again. Junior will follow-up with them.
Saturday - We met with Pastor Val and went to his orphanage outside of Leogane. The kids had a little program prepared and sang for us, and one of the songs was about preventing cholera! We hung out there for a few hours, painted fingernails again, played with matchbox cars and bubbles and then went back to the guest house. The little houses we bought are up and occupied, and life is returning to a new normal there. Everyone is happy and healthy...such a different atmosphere from the day before. Construction on a new dormitory and church are underway, and plans for a new school, a food depot, a bakery and other development work are moving along as well.

Sunday - We attended the 4.5 hour church service at the orphanage, with about 75 people in attendance. All of us preached. We were encouraged to see people of all ages, both men and women and their children there. There were several young men in their twenties that Pastor Val is mentoring. They have even planted a church even farther up in the mountains, about a one-hour walk from Pastor Val's place. There was a man in the church who is 109 years old and has been with Pastor Val for over 40 years. His name is Constant (appropriate!) and when I asked him what the secret to a long life is, he said, "Keep God in your heart!" We hiked up the hills behind the site, and had a lovely day, heading back to PAP in the evening.

Monday - Before heading to the airport, we hooked up with a missionary that is working with a coop of coffee growers and got some unroasted beans to bring back. We are hoping to partner with these people to begin some coffee exportation, supporting the farmers of Haiti and creating much needed jobs. We also had an interesting conversation with a little boy who has been kidnapped twice! Very interesting story...We departed PAP at noon on Monday.

We also were able to talk with Pastor Val about some other plans for growing the local economy. We discussed a plan to provide grants for a motorcycle taxi business for the men in his church. (This is the most practical mode of transport in the rural areas, and is a growing opportunity for men who need to provide for their families.) We also discussed plans for a school building. He has 350 children attending school on his compound, but they are meeting under trees in makeshift tents and areas. He could take many more kids, if there was space. We saw a building that could be put together very quickly, very inexpensively that would accommodate so many, and he really liked it. So fundraising will begin for those two projects immediately. We need about $5K for the motorcycle endeavor (which will be reinvested in motorcycles over and over again) and approximately $60K for the school.

To top off the week, almost as if God wanted to show off, I struck up a conversation with a man in the PAP airport Monday morning who is a pastor in the US, but is part of the church on Delmas 9 that took care of us the night of the earthquake! He recognized people in my photos, and knows Pastor Val! It was amazing. God is amazing.

So thank you, thank you for your prayers and support. Stacey had a great time, we stayed safe and healthy, made some great connections, and serious progress on the things God has put on our plate. It is so exciting to see God at work; I feel like I'm sitting on the front row!

One Year

2011-01-12T05:13:00.000-08:00

It's been one year today. You'll see it all over the news. That is a bit comforting, to know that it's not just me and those others that were in Haiti on January 12 last year that are still remembering. I remember thinking at the moment of the earthquake that it wouldn't even make the evening news in America. But I was wrong. The whole world turned its attention to this little Caribbean nation, and the whole world watched their remarkable response to tragedy: they lifted their hands and their voices to God, in worship and prayer. I spent a sleepless night on a soccer field with 2000 of them as they led us in a stunning symphony of prayer, praise, worship, scripture quotation and tears. One lady standing nearby must have been their worship leader, because her voice was so pure, so strong, so tireless. She sang for hours. When one group's praying quieted, another group picked up with a song. When they grew silent, someone started to quote Psalms. We heard Psalm 121 repeatedly. "I will lift up my eyes to the hills, where does my help come from? My help comes from the Lord, the Maker of Heaven and Earth."

The lap of the Father.

One year later, what are my thoughts? It's only 8 in the morning, so I have yet to get through much of the day, but so far mostly tears, sadness, grief for the losses. Tears of thankfulness for my own safety of the safety of those I know. Tears of gratitude to be home with my loved ones. Lots of tears. These tears have made their appearance many times over the past year. At first, I was waking up in the night sobbing uncontrollably, and finding myself in the middle of my day having to stop and go be alone to cry for a while. And I found I couldn't get through a single worship service at church, when everyone was singing of the goodness of God, worshiping Him...it was too tender of a spot in my heart. I had truly tasted a mere sip of the glories of the presence of God and it overwhelmed me. As the year went on, I found I had to restrain my heart from going too close. I didn't like that feeling of having to hold back from experiencing God.

So this morning, I let it flow. Listening to music written by anointed songwriters and sung by golden voices, I wept. I weep for the great loss. I weep for the hopelessness. I weep for pain and suffering of so many. I weep for the children who have no parents. I weep for the lack of order. I weep for the magnitude of the recovery. I weep for the burdens my friends bear. I weep for the lack of restoration even one year later. I weep for the confusion.

But I also cry because of the example set before me of choosing to worship when all is lost. This has been a life altering lesson for me and every time I think about those people with their hands in the air walking through the rubble, I feel challenged.

Since we are at the beginning of a new year, I have been thinking a lot about goals, resolutions. I had some, but today I am thinking my Number One goal should be to train my heart and mind to worship in every circumstance. The immediate response. So if a rock hits my windshield, "thank you Lord." If I get sick, "praise you Jesus." If we lose our business, "God, you are good."

Lord, turn your eye toward Haiti today. Let your lovingkindness flow in that place in 2011. May the power of your Holy Spirit enable strong and good leadership to rise up and transform this small nation. May it be a testimony of your faithfulness, as your people join together and humble themselves and pray and repent for the sins of their nation - may you then restore their land to a shining example of your goodness. I pray that we will look back, many years from now, and see the hand of the Lord at work to build a nation of people that is a bright light in the world. And may I learn to turn to you with thanksgiving in every circumstance, in every blessing and in every trial. Thank you, oh God, and may your name be glorified throughout the earth.

Worship lyrics

2010-12-07T08:37:00.000-08:00

Be careful what you sing…

I’ve been pondering the words to some of the worship songs we sing. I remember many years ago, a pastor speaking out about a popular worship song related to a scripture in Joel 2. The scripture was a reference to the judgment the people of Israel were going to suffer at the hand of God because of their disobedience. “They rush on the city, they run on the wall, great is the army that carries out His word.” Well, that was talking about the army that was rushing in to destroy Israel, and we were singing and clapping to that, like it was some victory dance we were going to enjoy!

So, since then, I’ve always looked with a critical eye about what we sing. A year or so ago, while singing, “I will praise Him til it works out” or “He comes through” or something like that… No, I will praise God even if it doesn’t work out.

Most recently, I’ve questioned these lyrics: “show me Your glory” and “I want to see Your face.” Really? Not me! I’m not ready yet! I saw just enough of the glorious nature of God’s presence (like I’ve never seen before or since) the night of the earthquake - when all those beautiful Haitian Christians worshipped until morning, thanking God for their very lives - to make me hide from it again. I am undone when I just taste just a tiny touch of the presence of God. I can’t stop crying, I can’t function, I can’t do anything.

And this one: “Break my heart for what breaks Yours…” Um, no way. We cannot bear it. I am seeing just a tiny bit of what breaks God’s heart right now, and I can’t handle it.

Though we are filled with the Holy Spirit, we are still in our human form. We do not have our glorified bodies, minds or emotions yet. That is coming in Heaven someday (which, by the way, I am now really looking forward to). So how do we think we can take all this intense level of emotional or spiritual experience? It’s akin to spiritual pride, really. I am learning that I am far from the place where I can handle a glimpse of the glory of God, or see His face, or look upon the pain that plagues the earth, sharing in the broken-heartedness of God. Remember when Moses came down from his mountain-top experience with God? He asked, “now, show me Your glory,” and God agreed to show him just his back as His goodness passed by. He told Moses, “for no one may see Me and live.” Even that got Moses to glowing so much that they had to veil his face so normal people could talk to him. And each time Moses met with God, the veil had to go back on. Now that’s Moses, a man who spoke verbally with God.

Who am I?

May we not be so presumptuous as to forget that God is magnificent, utterly holy, untouchable, so much so that we cannot approach. Yet. One day, when we are ready, we will see him face to face, not like a poor reflection – which is what we have available to us now.

I long to see God’s face, to touch Him, to hear His voice…but I will wait, and I will look forward with anticipation to be able to experience this fully.

Update: October 25, 2010

2010-10-28T08:53:00.001-07:00

It’s been nine months now since the earthquake in Haiti changed the lives of millions of people, including my own. Now we are reading reports of cholera threatening the city of Port au Prince, and we are feverishly praying for God’s hand of mercy to stem the tide of sickness that could further devastate the country. Thanks to those of you who have prayed and given for your outpouring of love to a nation that most of you have never visited. It is a true sign of the love among the body of Christ when strangers help one another. This is the way it should be.

Just to recap the year: from January until July, we have been able to provide immediate disaster relief for the orphanage needs in the form of food, water purification, a large 20’ x 40’ tent for holding school, clothing, shoes, kitchen supplies, school supplies, and teacher salary assistance. Many Haitian pastors wanted to get the children back to school as soon as possible after the quake, but in reality it wasn’t until April or May that this was possible. Though it was under less-than-ideal circumstances, school re-opened in early May for the children at Val’s. My daughter and I were able to go and visit at the end of May, collecting more images and video of the situation, and seeing first hand the living conditions, which are appalling.

And…I wanted to give an update on what has happened in the last few months:

TRUCK: My husband Kirk and I were able to go and visit the weekend of July 30, and we were joyfully collected at the airport by Pastor Val in a brand new truck! Through the generosity of many, we were able to send him enough money to fully pay for this much-needed vehicle and for several years of insurance. He had been driving a clunker of an Isuzu Trooper, with no window crank handles, barely functional anything, and a dash of indicator lights that were constantly aglow. It was by sheer prayer that we were ever safely transported anywhere, especially during the earthquake. When he made his needs known about this situation, we hurriedly gathered the funds, and God was gracious to supply. It is a double cab, four-wheel drive diesel pick-up, “Great Wall” is the model name, a Chinese product.

SHELTER: Our initial goal was to raise enough funds (approximately $200K) to rebuild the orphanage complex that would house 50 children, staff, a kitchen and dining facility. There would also be space for several classrooms. As we began this effort in earnest, another non-profit came forward and offered to do it all, at their expense. We were very happy to have this offer and saw it as the provision of God. While we wait for this building to be constructed, which may take a long time, we felt the need to provide something immediately. We showed Pastor Val an example of a semi-permanent structure and spoke with him about the possibility of purchasing several of these “kits” that could be conjoined into one unit. There are several organizations building these types of kits in Haiti, and we were familiar with one in particular, Maxima, S.A. in Port au Prince. It was a win-win all around, because Maxima is a Haitian company which employs Haitians! We purchased 5 kits, and they were delivered to Pastor Val last week. As soon as they can put them together, which only takes a few days, the children can sleep indoors for the first time in 9 months! This will solve the problem of shelter in the short/medium term…the shelters are made of plywood, coated with a thick paint, and are hurricane and earthquake proof when put together correctly. They can only last from 3-5 years though, so a long-term solution is necessary.

OTHER DEVELOPMENT PROJECTS: It is our greatest desire to not only meet immediate needs, but to help solve more basic problems in this village. Many of the children that Pastor Val cares for do indeed have families. Some even sleep at home, but spend their days at the orphanage simply because their families cannot afford to take care of their most basic needs. Pastor Val feeds many more children than actually sleep there. The core problem is employment. There is very little beyond farming that is available to the average rural Haitian family, and while the women are busy taking care of children, washing clothes, and trying to find clean water and some food, many men are standing idly around the local gathering spots with nothing to do and no way to make a living. In addition to helping Pastor Val take care of the children, we want to help him develop some of his land and bring some opportunities to the village of Bongnotte. We have already sent some money to begin the following projects:

Bakery: One need that he alerted us to is the availability of bread. It is a long 3 or 4-mile walk down a muddy road to the nearest market, and the need for a local source of bread is obvious. Building a bakery would answer the need for bread, but it would also provide jobs and job training.

Food Depot: There is also a need for a food depot that could store food for the orphanage, and also be a source of supplies and food for the community. The employees of the food depot could therefore turn a profit for the orphanage.

Trade School: Education and training is also of utmost importance and we are now discussing the possibility of providing scholarships to worthy older teens at the orphanage to attend a trade school in Carrefour.

As elections take place (hopefully) in November and the one-year anniversary of the quake approaches, we anticipate a lot of violence and rioting in the city over the next few months. We have to decided to post-pone any trips until after commotion of the anniversary and probably will not go to Haiti until March. Please pray with us for a smooth election process and transition of power, as well as peace to reign in the country. Also as we watch the news of cholera beginning to spread, pray for God to end the epidemic and prevent it from getting into the tent cities. All of our concerns are based on the human observations of what is going on, however, our God is able to do all things and we are praying with this sort of faith. Please join us!

Slowly, good things are happening. It has been a little frustrating to watch and wait for change from here, where everything is so easily obtained and executed. We are all very grateful for everyone's generosity.

A Fruitful Planning Weekend

2010-08-10T07:00:00.000-07:00

July 30 through August 1...only a short weekend, but packed full of fruitful discussions with Pastor Val. My husband, Kirk and I went to Haiti together for the express purpose of nailing down details, coordinating some plans, and facilitating communication among key people in order to get a roof over 50 children's heads. As soon as possible.

The weekend started early on a Friday morning, wrestling four plastic foot lockers full of school supplies and other needed items. However, upon arrival at the very busy ticket counter, we were promptly told we couldn't check those types of items. Then it was a mad scramble to purchase four huge duffel bags (from another charity, oddly enough, who was selling them via American Airlines for just such a reason as this!) and transfer everything that had been so carefully packed. Of course, all of the crayons exited their boxes and resulted in a stew of crayola, pencils, pens and erasers at the bottom of the bags!

Otherwise the trip was uneventful, and we arrived without incident at the Port au Prince airport in the heat of the day. Standing in the parking lot, the daily storm was moving in as we looked up into the hills from the trees that swayed so violently over us during the earthquake. This was our view on January 12 - the dust from crumbling buildings rising in the distance.

And there he was. Pastor Val standing proudly with his new truck that our friends helped purchase. It is a black Great Wall, a Chinese-made diesel 4X4 pick-up, with seats for 5. He was so excited to finally be driving it, and we were thrilled to be the beneficiaries of its virtues: air conditioning, windows that actually operate, a dashboard whose warning lights don't stay lit constantly. Reliable transportation amidst the assaults of exhaust, heat humidity, filth and dust. Hallelujah!

We headed out toward Leogane, driving around the cracks in the road created by the shaking earth. We picked up a friend from back home, Katie, who is living in Carrefour for the summer and made our way out of the city's chaos and into the green of the countryside. The storm was fast approaching as we left the main road and took the muddy trail up to the orphanage.

There was a joyous reunion when we arrived, but it was short-lived as we were warned to get back to the main road as quickly as possible, as the rain would certainly raise the nearby river to wash out the "road," trapping us behind it. Though only about four in the afternoon, the sky was dark with clouds. The lightening was terrifying as it flashed all around us, with no real place to hide. Lightening and thunder were simultaneous and the children covered their ears in fear. Even I, who am a fan of storms, was feeling a little vulnerable. We left for the twenty-minute ride in the pouring rain for the guest house, where we would enjoy a bed, a shower and a roof over our heads. It all became incredibly real at that moment. We had to get those kids under a roof.

The next day, we planned to spend with the children. Pastor Val picked us up at 9 and we ventured out to a local street market for some avocados and bread. It was a dizzying cornucopia of sensory overload - mud and filth beneath our feet; a woman with a blaring bullhorn; angry chickens hanging off the back of a scooter; raw, fly-infested meat for sale in the hot sun; a drug-crazed youth sitting naked with a woman's lace skirt stretched over his hips; mangoes, coconuts and plantains...we are no longer in Kansas (or North Carolina).

Pastor Val's two cell phones rang incessantly - between the demands of being a pastor and running a taxi service, he is in high demand. He told us, "I have not scheduled anything else this weekend, so that I can host you." But clearly one phone call got his attention and he was obviously conflicted.

Maggie, one of his parishioners, had taken her 5-year-old neighbor boy to the hospital. He was in a diabetic coma and had not eaten or drunk anything for a few days. He was at the Doctors Without Borders hospital in Leogane, 45 minutes from where we were headed. His parents did not believe in Christ, and Maggie felt compelled to ask Pastor Val to come and pray for the boy, since his parents would not think to ask for such a thing. Clearly, Pastor Val wanted to go. We assured him that we could accomplish everything that we came to do while driving (especially now that we could close the windows!) and that it would be our privilege to accompany him in this task.

On the way, we passed a building that was made of pre-fab walls, made to last 5-6 years. We had considered this option at first; there is a factory doing the same thing in PAP that some Dutch missionaries started and is now operated by Haitians. The kits for the buildings can be put together in a day on a prepared concrete slab, so several of these small structures would provide shelter in a hurry. Pastor Val was intrigued and we could tell he was thinking. I told him that we had enough money raised to buy 7 or 8 of these kits, providing a secure home for up to 50 people. Now he was really interested. He said he'd like to visit the factory after we left.

When we arrived at the hospital, the staff told us we were not permitted to visit until noon. It was 11:30, but they adhered to strict visitor schedules. However, in just a few minutes, we were escorted one at a time into the temporary hospital. Temporary structure, but there was nothing skimpy about the staff, equipment or care. Top of the line. I am so glad.

I went first. The little boy was lying unconscious (or in a deep sleep), an IV of fluids and nutrients flowing into his veins. Dear Maggie was holding his small hand. I asked a few basic questions in the miniscule amount of Kreyol I know - how old is he? what is his name? has he eaten? fever? A nurse drew blood; he didn't even flinch. I laid my hands on him and began to pray. Bring healing Lord. You are the Great Physician, touch this little boy with your great power and bring him to wholeness, wellness and take away this affliction. From the top of his head, to the soles of his feet. Amen.

There was an old woman in the bed next to his (and I just can't remember his name!) and I threw up a prayer for her. She looked close to death. I think this was the ER. Another boy had some body part bandaged. Pastor Val went back after I came out, and took his turn petitioning the Lord for healing. We were able to speak with the dad for a few minutes and told him we prayed. Then it was back to our original plan. Pastor Val called his sister Yrma and alerted her that we were on our way, and that we wanted some of her good cooking. Rice and beans would be fine, thank you.

When we got there, we immediately distributed some water guns to the boys. Oh my goodness...great idea. They had a blast. The girls were immediately feeling left out, and so I produced four bottles of nail polish and got to work. And crayons and coloring books. And play dough. The boys still seemed to have more fun; probably because Kirk was in the thick of it. He came back soaked to the skin - some water, some sweat, I'm sure.

We wandered the grounds talking to Pastor Val of septic systems and footings. I snapped lots of photos. We played whiffle ball. I gave Daril, the eldest child at the orphanage, my Ipod Shuffle loaded with awesome worship music. He had been so intrigued with it last time I was there, and I never use it at home. More discussions about the future, about timing and community development. It's bigger than just an orphanage building. That whole community needs jobs, stability and growth. Lots of capable men are just sitting under mango trees wasting their days away. It is a pathetic situation. But we have a plan. Pastor Val has been pondering this for a long time and now is the time.

Another storm rolled in and we were hurried away again by the warnings about the rising river. Back to the safety of the guest house.

(Major tangent: When we got back to the guest house preparations were well underway for a wedding that was taking place within the hour. Guests had started arriving and the reception was prepared. The rain was holding off, so the outdoor wedding was still on. We noticed how decked out all the guests were: tuxedos, three-piece suits, top hats, formal gowns, white gloves, little girls dressed as brides, etc. This was going to be quite a party. One of the American women, Carol, that works at this compound came over to us and chatted with us about the spectacle. She told us this was the wedding of one of the staff, and she knew her well. As we talked, an SUV pulled up with a bride in the back. How fun! We were going to see the arrival of the bride. But then a second bride got out of the SUV... and our new American friend told us neither was the actual real bride. We were perplexed. Both of these 'brides' had the white dress, the veil, the flowers...Carol said that they really do get dressed up for weddings here! Well, okay then. I wouldn't like to be upstaged by other brides at MY wedding, but then again, we're not in America!)

As the rain began to fall, Kirk looked at me with realization in his eyes: "It's really raining hard." That was all he said. It fell like that for at least 4 hours. We were sobered to think of our friends, just a few miles away having to cope with the unthinkable all night long.

In the morning, Tingue - a Haitian engineer who lives on the compound we stayed at - came and talked to us about the building project for Pastor Val. That was a great conversation and we got a lot of answers. Then when Pastor Val came to pick us up, we were able to get him and Tingue talking, which proved to be the most valuable 30 minutes of the whole weekend. There had been several layers of people between these two men and a lot of misunderstandings had occurred. Everything from the building project to food distribution was tangled in a web of confusion. The Lord had us there to facilitate that brief conversation and exchange of phone numbers and names for the benefit of Pastor Val and the orphanage. If for no other reason, I am glad we went to Haiti for that short visit.

Now, we are back home, have raised a bunch more money and are well on our way to streamlining our efforts on the US side. It is a joy and a privilege to come alongside such a faithful and humble man of God to encourage him, pray for him and help him provide for the needy in his community. We are so grateful to God for opening the most unexpected doors of opportunity for him and for us.

And there is now a precious church of about 100 people in the Pacific Northwest that has opened its heart to Pastor Val. In one momentous event, they managed to give enough money to completely pay for the semi-permanent housing that we looked at with Pastor Val. This will provide immediate housing while we wait for the permanent building to come to fruition.

Thank you to all of the generous people who have shared of their time, talent and finances. And Pastor Val always tells us to say, "Thank you" to you as well.

It is heartfelt.

Orphanage-in-a-Box!

2010-06-18T13:35:00.000-07:00

Our final two days in Haiti involved a relatively un-interesting mix of sitting around, being hot, going to a lovely beach (I DO wish more people knew about the faded beauties of resorts that dot the road between Port au Prince and St. Marc...absolutely lovely with the mountains dropping into the clear Caribbean Sea the way they do!), buying some Haitian art alongside the Delmas 33, and spending two hours in the beautifully remodeled and air-conditioned American Airlines waiting area. We all got stuck in NYC on the way back due to high winds, and spent the night with a generous friend. Abby was blessed the most: she got a direct flight to Seattle and a day in NY with her best friend out of the deal!

It's been a month or so since I returned already. I've been busy working on a plan to help Pastor Val rebuild the orphanage living quarters. Another pastor in the US is rebuilding the church building and we are working with some other non-profits to get the other building done. This will include dormitories for girls, boys and staff, a large kitchen and pantry, a large common area, covered outdoor areas and storage. I call it an "orphanage-in-a-box" because the genius of this design is that it is EVERYTHING pre-fabbed in the US an loaded onto shipping containers. All this can be accomplished in less than a month. Once it makes it out of customs in Haiti, it's another month or less to construct the building with the components.

Our friend John Hudson, of 100 Fold Studio is the brilliant architect behind this idea. They have already assembled the components for a similar project in the Dominican Republic. The walls and roofing materials are in manageable panels, and all the sinks, toilets, furniture, kitchen items, etc. - everything you would need to house 80 people is included. Jobs will be created in Haiti by the site work that must be done: concrete slab for the foundation, septic system installation, electrical connections, etc.

We're excited to be embarking on this project. Many others have expressed an interest in working with us, and God is piecing together a diverse team of leaders and servants. Men, women, teens and children from all walks of life are scheming about fund raising ideas, making donations, planning events, and sending boxes of supplies. For three days straight, I received a box each day full of dental and medical supplies. They came from the same address in Minonck, IL, from someone I have never heard of. Thank you, whoever you are!

A trip is in the planning stages to travel to Haiti one more time this summer to make final arrangements with the tradesmen and Pastor Val to begin the site work. My husband, Kirk and I, our son, Jon, and our architect, John Hudson will be going just for a quick weekend trip.

I'm looking forward to church more than anything. So much fun.

(If you have any interest in contributing to the building project, please contact me at kelleemetty@gmail.com for more information.)

Three Days and Two Nights, Part 3

2010-06-14T06:48:00.000-07:00

"Happy Birthday Abby!" First words out of my mouth...it was May 6, Abb's 24th birthday, and what a better place to spend it than among such wonderful people. It was destined to be a memorable day, and it did not disappoint. As a mom, you want all your kids' birthdays to be special, because they are so special to you and you want them to be celebrated. Her life has been full of fun birthdays, and she commented on how she has spent several in foreign countries: her 3rd and 15th in Italy, her 13th in England, and now this one in Haiti. Appropriate.

We scrambled out of our tent and wandered over to the chicken-coop-turned-dining-room, and found some cold water and apple juice still chilling in the cooler with a small amount of ice left from two days before. Yrma was fixing eggs for us, and we were amazed to see at least a dozen scrambled for us, along with peanut butter and rolls. Wow. How are we going to do this? Oh, I hope Pastor Val is planning to join us for breakfast!

While we were eating, sans Pastor Val, we heard the children, mysteriously still in their tents, softly singing/practicing the Happy Birthday song in English. Abby and I exchanged silent grins; she knew something was up but we didn't talk about it so to spoil it. I remembered that Pastor Val had left in the morning the day before, and returned right before we went to bed. I hoped that we weren't in trouble for keeping the kids up late, but he had seemed pleased that they were singing and worshiping with us into the night. A white box had appeared on the shelf in the dining room. I saw it, but I wasn't sure if Abby had.

Yrma finished up the kids' breakfast as we were finishing up, and I 'helped' again by setting the table with plates of a pure white porridge-looking stuff. It was steaming hot, so I assumed the kids would show up any minute. But the ladies took their time getting all the spoons out, then some cups, then another table. The kids started trickling in and sat down, but the preparations continued. Some crackers, then some more chairs, then water in each cup, then the drums from the church across the street. About 45 minutes after the porridge was set on the table, things were finally ready. Some of the kids had been sitting there almost all that time! When I asked them what it was they were having for breakfast they said, "labouyi." (I could not figure out what they were saying and when I got home, I researched it on the internet and found this lovely recipe for a porridge made with plantains, bananas, coconut milk, evaporated milk and cinnamon. Darn, now I wish I had been hungry and bolder to try some!)

Pastor Val, along with the help of his nephew, Roosevelt, got the kids calmed down and began a little speech, with Roosevelt in English, and Pastor Val translating (but the funny thing was that he kept "translating" into English, and forgetting that the kids needed it in Kreyol!).

"Today, is a special day. Today we are going to have something like a dream. It is Abby's birthday! (and all the kids clapped and shouted!) We will sing, we will eat, we will drink, we will pray together. We wish you good health, and success in whatever you are doing in Haiti and in the United States. So welcome and welcome!"

They prayed over the food, and then broke into the most amazing rendition of "Happy Birthday to You" I have ever heard. It was sung with gusto, complete with drums, in both English and Kreyol. The kids began to eat, (finally!) and Pastor Val brought out the mysterious white box, and laid an envelope on top.

Abby opened the card, and read Pastor Val's sentiments. She looked at him for the signal to go ahead and open the box. Inside was a gorgeous cake, that read, "Happy Birthday to Abby." Miraculous! Her response was of true surprise. Everyone clapped, and she proceeded to cut it into 50 pieces. No less miraculous. I was filming the whole party, and worked hard to hold back the flood of tears that kept rushing to the surface. (Check out the 2 minute version here.)

We asked Pastor Val where he found such a miraculous creation, and he related his story of spending all day in Port au Prince the day before hunting one down, gathering the soda, cups, ice and other party supplies. So humbling.

(As I've looked back on the video numerous times, it strikes me that some of the kids are smiling brightly through the whole thing, and others seem disinterested. I have wondered if they are ever celebrated so grandly on their birthdays. I have thought about all the things children in group living situations miss out on - mamma rocking them to sleep, or talking to them about their troubles; dad making sure they are doing their homework. When there are so many living together, they tend to take care of each other, with or without the presence of adults, and because of the inadequate ratio of adults to children, individual attention is probably a rare thing indeed. Their physical needs are provided for, mostly, but those things that only parents can do are short supply. This makes me sad and self-conscious.)

But it was a memorable moment in our lives, for sure. And I hope that the children, though it wasn't their special day, had a fun time.

As breakfast was finished, we passed out cake and candy to everyone. Stanley continued to play on the drums and we sang some more. Abby got out the nail polish we brought, and we set up a nail salon. Each girl got her 10 fingernails painted at least twice - that times 30 girls - about 600 nails. First with pink, then with glitter. The boys tried to get theirs done, too, but the girls fended them off! Pastor Val miraculously produced bottles of Coke and Cola Couronne's Fruit Champagne, a sweet, fruity carbonated beverage, made in Haiti since 1924, and poured it over ice for the crowd. It was a real party.

Pastor Val's son, David appeared about that time, and when he walked into the compound, the kids swarmed him like he was a superhero. He knew a lot of their names, and it was fun to see him interact with them. He's about 27, works for Digicel as a systems administrator and speaks excellent English. I'm so happy that we finally got to meet another member of the Val family. He had his Blackberry with him and one of the computers I had brought in January.

We actually were able to get on the internet using his phone, and although it was taking eons to load each page, it was clearly a possibility. This was very encouraging. I showed Pastor Val and David a few sites they might be interested in and the kids crowded around in amazement. I also pulled out my Ipod shuffle, and let Doudley and Daril listen to some worship music. They were hooked. After that, Daril said he would really like to have one of these. No problem. Sounds do-able to me!

Abby wanted to take another hike to see the mango man, but I wasn't up for it. She headed off with a couple of kids and her camera. She was gone about an hour and came back with some beautiful shots and more stories.

It was getting late in the day and nearing the time to leave. We loaded up our things, left the tent behind, and spent some last minute moments wandering the grounds. We gathered the children for a group shot.

As we were about to get in the Trooper, Daril gathered the children and had something prepared to say to us. As the eldest child, and the representative of the group, he very humbly and articulately said to us in English,

"We have one request. As you know the World Cup is coming on June 11, and we would really like to watch it. Could you help us find a way to watch the World Cup on television?"

I looked right at Pastor Val and said, "Can you take some of that money I gave you yesterday, and get them a TV so they can enjoy this?" He nodded yes. (I got word on June 10 that yes, indeed, they were able to make it happen. I guess that generator is getting a lot of use this month!)

That was our parting moment, and it was so precious. We - Pastor Val, Abby, David, another Pastor from Jacmel and I - piled into the Trooper, fully prepared for a jostling, dusty, hot three-hour ride back into the city. Abby and David rode up front, and they talked and talked about all kinds of internet stuff and business. We made one last stop at the potty-house, saw our little friend on the chair again, and thanked the lady of the house for her hospitality. "I was hungry and you gave me something to eat. I was thirsty and you gave me something to drink. I was sick and you visited me." I needed a toilet, and you shared yours with me. :) Thank you, kind family.

We made it back to Port au Prince in a record 1.5 hours and back to the Bataille's just a short time before the rest of the team returned. We shared dinner together, then some devotions and debriefing. We inflated our air mattresses in a bedroom under a fan. We waited for the water to be turned on, took quick showers, and crashed.

Has it really been 24 years since I birthed my first child? Such a wonderful woman she has become! Happy Birthday, my dear Abby. I love you so much.

Three Days and Two Nights, Part 2

2010-06-11T11:08:00.000-07:00

The rural night was much more quiet than in the city! However, I did not have any idea what a horrible noise donkeys make (and why hasn't someone taken the time to train Haitian animals, that when the sun goes down, it's time to BE QUIET?!). Oh my goodness, you'd think someone was killing them!

But awake we were, with a cheerful chorus of roosters and children's sleepy voices at 5:30. Days start and end so early, but it feels natural. The body feels rested and ready to get going again with the sun. We chatted about crazy dreams, and noises we heard in the night, and whether or not we should make a quick trek to the toilet. We did, and our little friend was sitting on his chair, just like yesterday, like a doorman. We commented on the morning air, how we were relishing the early morning cool, knowing it would heat up fast.

Coming back, Yrma was already making breakfast for the masses. What a woman she is. In over 23 years of helping her brother as head caregiver to the children at Val Children's, she has never had a day off. The only time she gets away from the kids is when she is at the market buying food for them! I promptly told Pastor Val that I wanted to have her come and stay with me in the States for a week just to have a little vacation!

She rustled up some spaghetti and spam for us adults and brought it into the dining room. Pastor Val joined us after a while, and she brought coffee, too. We enjoyed the strong and very sweet brew, then started in on the crazy breakfast items. I'm not even hungry until 10 or so each day, so it was all I could do to honor her efforts and try to eat the massive amounts of food she gave us.

While Abby wandered with her camera, I pulled out my "To Do" list and had a meeting with Pastor Val. We talked through all the questions I had about child sponsorship, the possibility of adoptions, rebuilding the orphanage, the new truck. I showed him the drawings from the architect for the living quarters, to give him an idea of what it might look like. He lit up and said he liked it very much. I explained to him about getting things ready in Haiti for the building: the septic placement (do they even have septic systems?), the possibility of electrical service sans a generator, the pouring of a concrete slab foundation. The term, "anti-seismic" came up a lot - Pastor Val wants to be sure of the building's safety in the event of another serious quake. Everybody's jittery about that these days, understandably.

As we finished, the children's breakfast was ready. I provided a meager amount of assistance by setting the table and trying to scrounge up enough spoons and forks so that everyone had their own utensil. Miraculous piles of food filled each child's plate, and they eagerly sat down and ate it all, even the two-year olds.

My next task was to try and get down everyone's name, age and interests. I snapped a photo of their face, then quickly asked for names, trying to keep it in order so I could figure out who was who when I got home. Of course, even though I didn't collect all 50 kids at once, there was pandemonium as we started this process. When you ask a child his name, he gives you the whole name, front and back, and it's very difficult to understand. So I tried just asking for their "prenom" thinking that was their first name. Sometimes that worked, but often with all the other kids shouting what they thought I wanted, I got both names or the wrong name. So I started to let the older ones write theirs. Dismal failure. It just got more and more chaotic.

(It reminded me of the photo Abby took of Jon when they were there trying to do the same thing three years ago - he's sitting in a chair, elbows on his knees, with his hands over his ears. A solitary child, holding a name card is posing nearby looking forlorn. I just wanted to sit down and put my hands over my ears, too! And I'm a mom! I can't imagine the frustration a twenty-year-old college boy must have felt!)

So eventually this happened:

He obviously has them eating out of his hand, and they mind him and do what he asks of them. They all call him "Pappi." So sweet. But we got our names (of course when I got home, my memory card was corrupted, and they were all out of order!). And I learned some things along the way: Alada wants to be a nurse, Suzena is very responsible for a 13 year old, Stanley, at 12 is a gifted drummer, and sometimes children you think are boys are really girls. :)

Dinah (pronounced "Dee-nah") is one such girl. She is four years old, and has very short hair, unlike the other girls with braids and colorful bows. She had on a pair of boy's overalls, unsnapped at the bottom (probably b/c they were made for a one-year-old) to look like a dress, but I didn't catch on. I was thrown off by the hair. She was so quiet that other kids had to tell me her name, and even then I didn't get it that Dinah was a girl. I was trying all my tricks to get her to talk to me, and let me discern her gender. Eventually, I just asked the other kids, "femme ou garcon?" They all shouted "femme! femme!" I hope I didn't hurt her feelings, but through all that, I was really drawn to Dinah, and made sure I gave her my attention whenever I was around her. I drew her up on my lap and read a book to her. I think it might have been her first time. She kept looking at my face, and not so much at the book. Her mouth was always slightly open, but never smiling. She rarely interacted with other kids; she stayed to the sidelines and watched. I don't know her story - maybe she is just very shy; or maybe she had just arrived at the orphanage, and has had some awful emotional trauma. Nonetheless, I pray for her almost daily now.

Of course, there are the kids that are just so much fun, and always make friends with you: Woosvely and Litteley are a brother-sister dynamic duo, actually Yrma's grandchildren; always-smiling Kenly, who has so much hope in his eyes, like at any minute he's going to tell you he knows some world-changing secret; and chubby-cheeked two-year old Kenzli (who fell asleep in my lap later that night). Many others, too... beautiful sisters Doudley and Rebecca, too-cool-for-school Robinson, and that really flirty 13 year old boy, oh, what's his name? "I love you, you are beautiful." In English. So much confidence.

Abby and I decided for some crazy reason we wanted to take a walk (at noon!) up into the hills. So we told Pastor Val that we only wanted to take a few kids with us, and maybe an adult. So we hiked off with Eloud, 27, and Woosvely and Littleley. It was SO hot, but we thought, "if we're going to be sweaty, we might as well get sweaty doing something fun." Although the sun was intense, there were breezes and it wasn't so bad. We ended up under a mango tree for shade, and Eloud had the bright idea to knock some down for a snack. There were no fences, and no clear de-markation of property lines. I know that tree had to belong to someone, but there were so many mangoes! We each ate one, and quickly realized how sticky we were. Eloud wandered off and came back with a small cup of water for washing off.

In a few minutes, the most beautiful man I have ever seen walked up to us with his arms full of mangoes. He was about 80 years old, only wearing a straw hat and a tattered pair of long shorts, and had a lean and chiseled dark brown body. He looked like an exquisite mahogany carving. He was so generous with his fruit. He gladly gave us about 10 mangoes even though we had just stolen 5 from his tree! He sat down nearby. I asked if I could take his photo, and he willingly agreed. Here he is, Sereme Dubraes:

When we returned from our walk, we spent the rest of the day playing with the children, resting from the heat, and just being generally unproductive. As the afternoon wore on, we ate another meal, and then escaped alone up into the hills for a quiet walk, while the kids ate their dinner. But we were discovered, and before we knew it, we had 40 companions. All but the smallest children were up on that mountain before you could say, "Hey you!" (which by the way, is what every child and teenager says to you if you're white!) We lied and told them we were walking to Jacmel, and they took us seriously. Then it was a chore to convince them otherwise and that it was getting dark and we had to go home. The sudden realization that we were responsible for forty 5-14 year olds was a little scary!

It was almost dark when we got back, and this is usually the signal to go to the tents for bedtime. But we got to singing with a lantern around the picnic tables, and it went on and on. There is a popular song in Haiti right now, that is actually like a public service announcement about going to school. The words in English are something along the lines of, "My little school, my beautiful school, I like it a lot, a lot. Don't sit at home! Go to school!" But the loud line is the don't-sit-at-home line, and they shout it while wagging their hand, "Pa chita la kay! Pa chita la kay!" So I bet we sang that song for thirty straight minutes! I think we were singing in the dark with my little camping lantern till 9:30, which is way past normal bedtime of seven or so! That's when Kenzli fell asleep on my lap.

I was in Heaven.

Three days and Two nights, part 1

2010-05-29T13:40:00.000-07:00

After we stopped to buy the candy and mangoes (which strangely enough, although they were in season, we hadn't been served any for meals - is that gauche in Haiti?), we trekked up the dirt road the two or three miles to Val Children's. My son, Jon would have been proud - we off-roaded with the best of 'em. Of course those few miles took 45 minutes, because Pastor Val had to stop, chattin' it up with the locals. He said after a few of these visits, "I have to stop and talk to them because, you know, they are not like the city people; they would be offended if I didn't take some time." Yep. We got it. Just like North Carolina, y'all.

We got almost there, and Pastor Val stopped the truck outside a cluster of homes. Some were nicer than others, but one was completely concrete, and totally in tact. He called out to the woman of the house, explaining to us that one of his pastors lived there, and they had a toilet we could use. Thank the Lord. We entered the concrete house, and she led us to the back. There it was. Oh, heaven. And I thought we'd be without this all week! Granted it was a 200 yard walk down the road, and you had to dump water into the bowl to flush it, but it was clean, and we were welcome to use it. This visit just got a thousand times more tolerable. The funny thing about the house, though was it was totally empty. Not a door, not a stick of furniture, nothing on the walls, no people...just a shell (and a potty). We wondered why the family that showed us in didn't live in it; maybe they did before the quake and didn't feel safe anymore.

There was another odd thing: there was a baby boy, about a year old sitting on a chair in the yard when we got there. He was there when we went in, and there when we left. He was in that chair everytime we visited the potty-house. Just sitting. No toys. He wasn't fussing to get down. He just was sitting there or standing in it. While waiting for Abby, I put 5 little rocks on the chair next to him. I counted them out in Kreyol, passing them from one side of his bare legs to the other. Then back again. He watched me and seemed entertained. Then it was my turn to use the bathroom. When I came out again, he was throwing the rocks on the ground. A new game.

No one-year old I've ever seen is content to sit in a chair all day. I wondered why he was happy to do that. I wondered if he couldn't walk yet, and it was just too painful to crawl, so his mamma put him in that chair when she couldn't hold him. I'd never thought about that before.

When we finally arrived at the gates of the orphanage grounds, the kids surrounded us and yelled, "Abby! Abby!" The next words out of their mouths were, "Jon? Jon? Kote Jon?" Where's Jon? The last time they had seen Abby was in Jan. 2008 when she was here with Jon for a week. Then he returned in July 2008 and spent another week with them. So they wondered why they didn't always travel together. They asked about Jon for at least an hour. Instead, they got me. :)

Pastor Val showed us where we could put up our tent. He had arranged a "bath" for us: some tarps spread over a metal pole structure that provided some privacy and certainly more space than a tent. So thoughtful. We were really touched. He told us to set our tent up with the door facing the bath. We promptly did, and then some of the bigger boys set about digging a trench around our tent, "in case it rained hard, the water will not go in your tent." Each night, one of the boys brought us a 5-gallon bucket of water for bathing. We also had a tub about 18 inches in diameter. I won't go into the details, but Abby and I had a lot of laughs getting clean every night.

We looked around, children clinging to our hands, and saw where the church and orphanage buildings had once stood. Our friend Jeff, had been to visit the previous week, and had removed the rubble, spreading it on the road. Great idea. They had erected a temporary church, of some 4x4s and a tin roof. Pastor Val had been given a roll of heavy duty yellow vinyl that they wrapped around to make three "walls." There was a podium, and the benches, and the well pump was right there by the open side. The well head is a social gathering place, so the church serves double-duty as a place to sit and rest and visit with the neighbors. Love it.

We were able to very quickly arrange for a 20'x40' tent, like the kind we use for wedding receptions, to be purchased and put up on the grounds. The American couple that owns the tent company, The Rymers from Cleveland, TN, got directions and met us out there, erecting the tent in less than 30 minutes, then went back to PAP and got on a plane for home. Random contact. Random opportunity. But a huge blessing...Pastor Val started three classes of school in there the next week.

We settled into visiting in the chicken house which had now been converted into a dining/living room, that I don't think the children were allowed into very often. Pastor Val's sister and a few other ladies were finishing the meal preparations. The children took up every square inch of table space outside, where they had several long tables spread with the ubiquitous yellow vinyl. There are about 50 - 60 children eating there each day, and about 35 who sleep there. The women had this operation down to a science. The kids were so well-behaved and patient. We prayed together and ate heartily.

After the meal, we had Tuesday night church. The kids were already there, and Stanley, 12, was pounding out the worship songs on a drum set. He was pretty good. We worshiped together then Pastor Val's assistant pastor gave some announcements. Pastor Val began speaking then, and introduced us as his guests. He wanted us to speak, so we quickly planned to share how their church had become so meaningful to us. He translated, and after a while we got into a groove. We told the people about how our family came to know Pastor Val 25 years ago, and how we visited Bongnotte in 2007. Then how our son had an encounter with God literally minutes before he preached his first sermon right there in that church! Then I went on to tell about my earthquake experience with their Pastor. And I shared with them what a fine testimony the Haitian Christians were giving the world of their faith in the midst of difficulty.

We worshiped some more and watched as Pastor Val danced with some of the children. We greeted everyone as they went home. We began our "bath-time" which was thoroughly entertaining, and went to bed feeling satisfied and full of joy.

The Next Days...

2010-05-26T05:09:00.000-07:00

The sounds of a Haitian morning: roosters, barking, pots and pans banging, children talking, singing, water splashing. The sun is not quite awake, but the sky has lightened, and it's still cool - better not miss it! So up we are at 5:30 or 6 am. That's the best time of the day in a hot and humid place, especially if it rained a little the night before. Fresh.

At 6:15 am, we were late for church, and that's a little embarrassing when you are seated up front as special guests. But we weren't the only ones, and although worship had been going on for at least 45 minutes already, there was lots more to come and people kept trickling in. Pastor Bataille's church is an open structure with the sky as a ceiling. There were some "seats" - concrete blocks turned on end, and a few benches. Abby even tested out a "pew" of sorts: four folding chairs that were missing their seats, but a board had been spanned across them to make room for 5 or 6. It's a dedicated parishioner who sits on the end of a concrete block for hours! But most people who came in after us, brought their own chairs. And the shaded spots went first. During a 3 or 4 hour meeting, the sun makes its way across the floor, and it's hot by 7:30! I'm amazed that the women are wearing panty-hose and the men, suits and ties. We were dying in our sundresses, which, by the way, seemed entirely inappropriate. Next time, sleeves.

The mayor of Delmas, an area of Port au Prince was the guest speaker and although I couldn't understand what he was saying, it was passionate. Junior translated and we realized he was preaching a very practical post-earthquake message: work hard, take responsibility for your own family, help others, and don't wait for the aid workers to come and take care of you. It's the message the Bataille's have been preaching. It's what Haiti desperately needs, way more than foreign aid.

Junior was telling us, and Pastor Val told us the same thing later in the week, that some of the tent cities are empty. The people leave them up (and I think they've constructed them of the worst sheets in their households to gain more sympathy!) and only get back in them when the aid workers come around with handouts. The larger tent cities are filled with really nice tents, and the people are given food and water regularly, medical care is available for free, and there is an NGO that provides port-a-potty services. That is way more than most of the poor have normally, so why would they leave? It's like all the bad things about the US welfare system, but 100 times worse.

The rest of Sunday morning was spent preparing for the opening of the clinic. Our other Durham ladies arrived, and they jumped right in. Abby and I hung around and helped a little and took lots of photos and video. There was a funeral at the church later in the day, and while we were listening/watching from a distance, we felt the shaking. Abby was lying on a bench, and thought someone was shaking it. When she turned to see who it was, the look on my face said it all. Wide-eyed, I told her we needed to get out of the building. We ran downstairs to find the whole funeral party had already calmly exited (I guess they're used to this by now), but none of our American friends had felt it. We found out later it was for real: a 4.4 magnitude aftershock.

Later, my Dutch friend Coby, met us at Quisqueya for a visit. By this time, Abby and I were thoroughly wrung out by culture shock. We'd only been in the country for about 27 hours, but with the combination of the heat, dirt, smells, chaotic traffic, and some idleness, we wondered what we were doing here and could we handle it for a week? Going to Quisqueya and visiting with Coby was the grace of God for us at that moment. She asked if we wanted to go to her home and with no shame we readily took her up on her offer. She lived up the mountain, where it was calmer and cooler. While we were there enjoying a delightful visit, it started to rain, hard. After a few hours of refreshment, she and her husband took us back down the mountain, back to our tent on the Bataille's roof, in the dark, in the rain...it was crazy ride. That visit got us over the hump, and Coby and Ad, if you are reading this - thank you so much for ministering to us! I got a lot of answers, too about micro-finance, since Ad does a lot of development work for the Dutch mission.

Monday was a day with plans. Of course, they never quite go like you think. We had an appointment with the headmaster at Quisqueya to introduce Junior to the school and Steve Hersey. Junior's fiance is hoping to teach there. The appointment was at 9, fairly late in the day in Haiti, and it seemed to take forever to figure out a ride. When we finally arrived at 10:30, Steve wasn't at all ruffled - he said, "I knew you'd show up eventually." I guess being punctual for a job interview (of sorts) isn't highly valued! No one has a watch in Haiti... We talked to Steve, recounted those first days after the quake, talked about Junior and Joycelyne's plans and then toured the school. At lunchtime, we headed over to Epi D'or, a popular restaurant that is also a bakery. They serve pizza and sandwiches, and even have a section called "Mc Epi" where burgers and fries are on the menu. :) It was great.

We headed back down to the Bataille's and did more photography and helping out at the clinic, which was in full swing. Then home for dinner and resting. It was a reward at the end of the day to sit with friends and talk about all that the Lord had done. A good detox time, we downloaded all that we had experienced, and we worshiped together.

Tuesday morning, Pastor Val came and picked us up to take us to the orphanage. We packed up our tent and air mattresses, and then went by the church to gather up the rest of the stuff we had brought for the kids. I don't think we actually left PAP until close to noon, so we got on the road at the hottest and most crowded part of the day.

The orphanage is in Leogane Province, in a small village called Bongnotte. It is twenty miles from PAP; it took us three long, hot, dusty hours to get there.

I'll spare the details of the drive but it included stopping for 15 minutes at a time in traffic that wasn't moving, the hot sun pounding us through necessarily open windows, leaning in to avoid being splashed by nasty, nasty puddles, and passing the most hideous of "homes" made of rusty corrugated tin placed in the center of the road. Appalling.

When we were finally able to get beyond the chaos of the city, a whole new country opened up to us. Few signs of the earthquake presented themselves; life seemed relatively normal out here. The road had a few serious separations from the quake - asphalt ripped in half, that requred the driver to go slowly through. It was green and lush, and though still hot as the blazes, it was refreshing.

We pulled off onto a small dirt road, stopped to buy some mangoes and candy and headed up into the hills. Such a lovely place. Are we still in Haiti?

A Second Visit to Haiti in 2010!

2010-05-23T13:51:00.000-07:00

Sak pase? (That's what you say to people on the street as an informal greeting, meaning, "What's up?") Abby and I had a lot of fun asking this of people, and then watching their reaction as they started prattling on in Kreyol, with a blank stare washing over OUR faces. We don't speak Kreyol! We just know a few words, enough to greet children.

I arrived on a hot, sunny afternoon in early May. As I exited the plane, the reality of what I was going to live in for a week hit me full in the face - hot and humid. The airport was the calm before the storm...soon I was leaving the sauna of a temporary customs building with my baggage cart piled high with heavy trunks, hands 'resting' on them as many porters laid claim to my belongings. How would I pay all these guys? I had to put on my tough girl and tell them all "no," as I desperately searched the sea of dark faces for a familiar one. Finally Pastor Val's toothless grin peeped out from between some elbows, and I saw that familiar cap he was wearing the last time I saw him. A wash of relief that now, he would take care of everything (everything meaning all the superfluous porters I was fending off!).

He raised an umbrella over my head to shield the brutal noon sun, as he guided me through the maze of people to the street. I was expecting Abby and Junior to be there to pick me up, but oh well, Pastor Val could call them and we would connect. Sure enough, they were there, but I couldn't see them. We just met up at Junior's church a mile or so away. (Of course, it took about an hour to get loaded up, and get to the church!) Driving through the streets was a strange feeling: the last time I was here, the whole country was in shock of what had just happened a few days before. Everyone was just started to dig out, to locate the dead, and rescue the trapped and wounded. I remember thinking it was hard to leave them behind and go back to a normal and abundant life. Being back in Haiti now provided some closure personally. Life has gone on here, I thought. Four months later, and life is back to normal to some degree.

The part of Port au Prince between the airport and the church seemed very normal. Street vendors, dust, nasty puddles, dogs, goats, traffic - all the sights and sounds of an average afternoon on a city street. There hadn't been much damage, and if there was, it was cleared away to some degree. The only indication that something was amiss was the ubiquitous blue tarp. Tent cities, large and small were erected on every available empty lot. Some of the ones with larger tents, were occupied by a community in its own right. But many small 'makeshift' tents, constructed of sheets and branches and concrete blocks spotted the city, and were empty. Junior told me later, and Pastor Val confirmed the same thing, that many leave these eyesores standing so that when the aid workers come around, they can get back inside and receive all kinds of things.

We arrived at the church, and I greeted my daughter, Abby with hugs and kisses. She is living in Seattle now, I in NC. I miss her terribly, and it's funny to have to meet up in Haiti! We sat down with Pastor Val in the sanctuary and talked for an hour or so. We agreed to meet again on Tuesday, when he would take us to the orphanage for a few days there with the kids.

The rest of the day was spent meeting the others that had come to help run a medical clinic. One thing that struck me on this trip: an American must leave their values of orderliness and productivity at home and be willing to spend time talking and waiting with people. Theirs is a highly relational culture, and the fact that you are standing around doing nothing is not a negative; it's an opportunity to get to know someone better!

The heat was unrelenting and although Junior had provided us a bedroom with its own bath, we rushed back to the church as dusk was approaching and rounded up our tent and air mattresses. The rooftop was flat and the other members of the team were camped up there because of the heat of the indoors. I am so glad I set the tent up at home once before I came - we were rushing to get it up before dark, but by the time we were pumping the air mattresses, our flashlights were in full use!

So much better...the night was tolerable, although those confused roosters were at it all night again. (I really don't believe that there will be roosters in Heaven.)

Miraculous Healing

2010-04-30T05:08:00.000-07:00

What exactly constitutes a miracle?

I went to the podiatrist yesterday and had a cortisone injection in my heel. I have been suffering with heel pain due to plantar fasciitis for months now. It is debilitating and makes me feel like an old woman. I guess it's due to a combination of factors: I was a runner back in the day, and probably didn't wear the right shoes; I wear flip flops all summer, which are bad, bad, bad for you (apparently); and my new-ish house has hard stone floors. All that added up equals the problem that I am dealing with now. And with this upcoming trip to Haiti, I didn't want to be in constant pain, knowing that I would have to be on my feet so much.

I had a cortisone injection once before that worked wonders, and I knew if I had another, I'd be feeling fine. But there are limits on how many and how often you can have them, so I was patiently waiting. In the meantime, I was asking for prayer and believing for a miraculous touch from God.

But, truthfully, I was looking forward to my appointment yesterday with the doctor, because I KNEW that would solve the problem. So, my question became, "does this negate the faith required for a miracle?" Does 'trusting' in medicine mean that I am not trusting in God to heal me?

On my way home, I started to ponder these things, and I came to this conclusion: when the scientist discovered that cortisone relieves inflammation, it was probably considered a miraculous discovery, right? Who gave that scientist the idea to try it? Who gave that scientist the creative mind to look into cortisone? Who directed the steps of the botanist or biologist to find the raw materials to develop into cortisone? Who gave the doctors, professors, and other professionals the genius minds they have in the first place to be able to learn? ALL of these things are miracles!

And I get to be the beneficiary of this miraculous power, as do many others. We would be fools, truly, if we did not tap into the miracles that God has given all around us to take advantage of in the 21st century.

It is further miraculous that I was born in this nation, in this century, in the family I was, with the advantages I enjoy, with the ability to earn an income...so that I could even get to the doctor to enjoy the benefits of God's miraculous working in my life.

So yes, I did experience a miracle healing yesterday! That cortisone injection was just as much a miracle as if I had felt the relief of pain at the altar in my church as someone prayed for me.

Now, let's go to Haiti and RUN around those hills with those children!

Thank you Lord!

Making Preparations for another Trip

2010-04-24T09:49:00.000-07:00

My husband rolled over this morning and told me he'd miss me when I go on my next trip to Haiti on May 1. So sweet. I told him I promised there wouldn't be another natural disaster this time, but he wondered why I thought I had any control over things like that! Of course I don't, but I feel like maybe in some sort of cosmic justice kind of way, I've done my time... :)

Leaving one week from today, I've been spending lots of time gathering donated food, supplies, and medicines from generous friends and strangers. My study has been converted into a mini-warehouse, full of rice and beans, shoes and socks, soap and shampoo, nuts and raisins. I've found Rubbermaid-type foot lockers with wheels on the bottom to use as checked luggage. I figured with no storage rooms, or buildings, Pastor Val and those that give care at the orphanage could use something like this to keep things dry. I had an epiphany the other while shopping for some of these things...

I went to a large warehouse store, and loaded my cart with a 25 pound bag of rice, a 35 pound jug of cooking oil, some powdered milk and some beef boullion cubes. As I was checking out, the gathering storm outside cut loose in a torrential downpour. Now I had to get all of this into my trunk, in the pouring rain. As I loaded it, getting drenched in the process, my heart ached for my friends who have no place to hide from weather like this. There is no house or building to run to for many in Haiti, and even a tent seems of little help in rough weather like that.

With wet clothes and a ruined hairdo, I got in the driver's seat and went to buy a tent. Getting wet like that in 15 seconds, made me re-think all I planned to take. The running shoes I was wearing were soaked and would take hours to dry, so they were no longer a practical choice. I need to think about adding a rain jacket and an umbrella to my packing list. And my tent selection process was suddenly much more complicated, as I deliberated with the nice man at Dick's about the effectiveness of the rain fly, and the tent's sturdiness in a gale force wind. I plan to leave this tent, by the way, for Pastor Val. (He told me he was still sleeping in his truck!)

So I decided on a four person dome tent, one that gives a little head room in case you had to do something besides sleep in it...like live in it. I set it up last night to practice. At first I was determined to do it alone, considering that it might be raining when I have to do it for real. But after some consternation (and in all fairness...tents have become much more user-friendly over the years...), I solicited my chuckling husband's help. I told him not to help me at first, but after watching me struggle, and telling me that the living room was not the best place for this, we moved it outside and put it up together in less than 15 minutes. I feel confident that, especially if it is still light outside, it is not raining, and there are not any chickens trying to move in with me, I can do it! Plus, I'll have Abby with me, who is much more adventurous, and plucky, than I, though maybe slightly less experienced in tent erecting. :) I even managed to get it all back in the tidy little bag it came in.

Ziploc bags are amazing: I plan to divide up all the rice, beans, oatmeal, dry milk, nuts, raisins, and boullion into to family-sized portions, just in case we will be sharing food with the community around the orphanage. Certainly Yrma will be able to use these portions as well for the children, but there are many others now that will need help, too. I'll leave that up to Pastor Val and Yrma.

I'm excited to go, but a little apprehensive about the unknowns...always so many. I told someone this morning, I feel like I am running to keep up with God; He is going so fast. Does He know I feel so inadequate, so unable to make good decisions at a moment's notice? Does He know that I prefer to be taken care of, not lead others on adventures? And yet, I find myself doing this again and again.

Two prayer requests, selfishly: that my heel pain will subside before this trip, and that no tarantulas will move into my tent while I am out for the day!

But seriously, (the heel pain is a serious concern) we would appreciate anyone who would like to pray to ask the Lord for the following:

a safe and healthy week
wisdom and guidance as we move forward in trying to best help those God has put in our lives
divine appointments and contacts
favor with the officials at border control and customs for goods we must begin to ship to Haiti
rest and refreshment in the Holy Spirit for Pastor Val, Yrma, his sister, and the children and families that live around Val Children's Home Care.
for every need to be met
For many to find the Lord in the midst of all the chaos and difficulty.

More to come!

Motivations

2010-03-22T16:48:00.000-07:00

So often in the last few months, people have said something along the lines of, "oh, you are such a good person to do what you did." I've been thinking about being a good person, about motivations, about what to do with these accolades.

Let's talk about motivations, because these are at the root of the other topics. What motivates people to do "good" things? I've seen and heard a lot of people talking about doing good deeds lately. Disney even got in on it, rewarding do-gooders for serving a non-profit for a day with a day at their theme parks. (Seems there were more generous folks than Mickey could keep up with and they cut it off at some point.) I guess some of those people were doing their good deeds to get a free day of fun.

Since this blog is about Haiti, let's look at my motivations related to this country. I can only truly judge my own heart: when I think back to my first trip to Haiti in 1982, it was about doing something fun, something outside the box, being different, maybe getting some attention...I really didn't know anything about Haiti, didn't have any particular affection for its people. I felt sorry for them, and was easily convinced that we would make a difference by going and participating in some construction projects for three weeks. (I'm glad God's grace is large and He understands we are but dust...He forgives our shortcomings).

By 1984, God had done a deep work in my heart; I had been broken, and found myself at the foot of the cross again and again in humility. But I was just getting started. I left suburban Baltimore to teach the children of missionaries and businessmen and women at a Christian school in Port au Prince. I was humbled by the people I met there, men and women who had given their lives to serving this nation, nationals that were serving the least of these, their countrymen. I remember for years, I wouldn't call myself a missionary...I didn't feel like I deserved the title. (It was only after getting tired of the longer explanation that I just shortened it to, "I was a missionary for a year in Haiti.") So what was my motivation then? Not sure, maybe just to have a job. But I really did want to be God's servant. Regardless, God did amazing things that year; probably the year of the most rapid growth in my spiritual life.

After getting married, Kirk and I sponsored a Haitian girl through Compassion, International. Every month for 6 years, we sent $28 to feed, clothe, and send this young lady to school. When she grew out of the program, we started with another, and for another 12 years sent that small amount monthly. She is my oldest daughter's age. I wonder what she is doing now. I'd say, our motivation for doing this was relatively pure: we wanted to demonstrate the love of Christ and help someone who needed it. Easy.

Fast forward to 2007: what motivated me to initiate a family trip to Haiti? I saw my teens growing up in affluent America, some with a tender heart toward God, some still seeking. I wanted to show them the other side of life, where their dad and I met and worked...really not a super-spiritual decision. But God was beginning something incredible. After that trip, I began to pray for a deeper sense of purpose, and meaning in life. We were living the American dream...home, cars, plenty of everything, fun, good relationships, great church and friends - but we were hard pressed to find something to really step out in faith for. Kirk and I started talking about starting a non-profit and raising funds for work in Haiti. Motivation? Well, partly to do something lasting, partly to help Pastor Val, partly to feel important. But again, Jesus and His transformation of our selfish lives was at the core.

So as plans began to unfold to go to Haiti in January of 2010, I'd had some time to think about why I wanted to be involved with this little orphanage. Going through the American recession, much of the entanglements of affluence were slowly pared away, and the core of what I believed was exposed. I was grateful for the opportunity to help someone with no fame or great ministry, and I purposely kept it on the down-low. I didn't want to get a large following for this work; I just wanted it to be our family and a few others, if they asked. Like Hudson Taylor, I didn't want to even ask for support. It was fun and exciting to see God work miracles and answer prayer with absolutely no manipulation from me. Pastor Val needed help, and he always said, "Let's just see what the Lord will do." I picked up that mantra. Let's just see....

And then, we were sitting in the parking lot of the PAP airport on a sunny afternoon in January, and the ground shook and our lives were all changed. I saw the raw grit of true faith: that when everything is hopeless and all is lost, call out to Jesus. We saw a lot of people who demonstrated a true love and service to Christ, selflessly, while no one was watching. And then the whole world saw it.

My conclusion, therefore on the matter of motivations: either you do it because Jesus has invaded your life and you have surrendered your hands and feet and mouth for His work, His will. Or, you are doing good because you want to feel better about yourself, want to leave a legacy of some kind, want to be remembered, want to impress someone, want to be important or looked up to. Even if people genuinely want to change their world, one has to look deep and ask, "If no one ever knows it was me who did this, would that be okay?" Can we do something wonderful for the world and remain anonymous? I venture to say, without the Lord, that is very hard to do.

So when someone tells me I'm such a good person for being involved in this orphanage, I want to just say, there is nothing good in me at my core; Christ has changed me and given me His marching orders. And I'm doing very little compared to others. I hope you discover the joy of serving Christ. It is a deep reward, difficult to explain in human terms. I just hope that I can keep digging deep and finding those unholy motivations, and weed them out.

A Nation of Jobs

2010-02-23T05:39:00.000-08:00

Listening to Matt Redman sing "Blessed be the Name" this morning, I just wept and wept over the resiliency of the Haitian spirit. I am so challenged. The reports coming out of Haiti are that still, weeks later, the days and nights are filled with praise and beautiful deep worship. Like the Sufferer of the Old Testament, they are a nation of Jobs. Everything is gone: family, possessions, health, safety, the very ground beneath their feet is no longer a trusted friend. (I have thought numerous times since I have returned from the initial days of the quake, how unreliable even the earth is...sometimes it shakes and there's no place to hide.) Everyone has lost someone, something and collectively, a price could never be placed on the great and utter loss. Like Job, they have chosen to say, " 'Naked I came from my mother's womb, and naked I will depart, the Lord gave and the Lord has taken away; may the name of the Lord be praised.' In all this, Job did not sin by charging God with wrongdoing." (Job 1:21-22)

"Blessed be Your name, in the land that is plentiful, where your streams of abundance flow, when the sun's shining down on me when the world's all as it should be, every blessing You pour out I'll turn back to praise" - this is easy. We naturally want to give thanks and praise.

"Blessed by Your name, when I'm found in the desert place, though I walk through the wilderness, on the road marked with suffering, though there's pain in the offering, when the darkness closes in, still I will say 'blessed be Your name' " - I am so challenged, it punches me in the gut; I've failed here many times in much lesser crises.

"You give...and take away; my heart will choose to say, Lord, blessed be Your name."

It is the Holy Spirit of God within them that rises up and gives strength. He is the Comforter. The Great Physician. The One who is closer than a brother. If we could see with spiritual eyes, we would see all over the nation, Jesus holding little ones, mothers, fathers, sisters, brothers, pastors, friends, leaders and peasants, the elderly...holding them and comforting them and giving them great peace.

This is the kind of correspondence that I regularly receive from Pastor Val: "We appreciate your great love manifested toward us in Haiti working hard to lift up this country naturally and spiritually. I am very thankful to you and to all of those who are helping you making it possible to accomplish that great job.Thank you so much for your help, love and prayers, my greetings and thanks to all the sponsors; the children are fine and we are praying for you all. We love you."

I think if I were the suffering one, I'd be sending desperate emails full of prayer requests and for needed things. But he just plugs along, never having become accustomed to comfort, and never having developed expectations of plenty. He has always seemed so thankful for whatever God provides, and he has frequently said to us, "Let's just see what the Lord will do!"

I want to live my life that way. Just simplify everything, and detach myself from the entanglements of abundance. How do you do that when you live in America? It's like survivor guilt of a different kind. Must we lose everything, like Job? Perhaps, but I doubt we'd respond the same way. We need to learn from those who have nothing. Jesus said, "how hard it is for a rich man to enter the kingdom of Heaven." We have no idea...

Earthquake - Day Five

2010-02-16T05:23:00.000-08:00

We knew that we had to get up early and meet at the home of the MFI pilots, so we scrambled out of bed. I think I finally slept a few hours, which I was very thankful for. Steve was up early making eggs and bacon! What a glorious aroma! And his coffee was strong and black and it rivaled a good cappucino.

It had been decided in the night that Ruth and the children would go with us, and that we would help them get to her mother's home in Kentucky. It would be a tearful morning for them as they had to say goodbye to dad and husband for an indefinite period of time. The children would probably finish the school year in the States.

We gathered up the fraction of luggage we had come with, lightened by donations of clothing, shoes, books, journals and medicines, packed ourselves into the truck again, and headed to Quisqueya for a last goodbye. Then off for a quick drive to the airport. At seven in the morning, the traffic was manageable. We drove through the streets we had been on the night before and saw more of the new normal for the Haitian people. Awful. Clean up efforts were beginning; people were standing patiently in line for water; tent cities were growing. We even saw some boys bathing in a puddle. And someone washing their car...what?

We arrived at the MAF gate at 7:30 or so, and got our things inside. The Hersey's had a tough goodbye, and then we gathered together inside the terminal. There was another short-term missions team inside. They had been staying at Villa Ormiso, where we had stayed in 2007 with the family. Their compound was undamaged, except the wall around the compound. It was demolished. There is a swimming pool there and I listened as they described what happened to the water inside when the EQ struck. "It rose up and then came down with a huge splash and went all over, sloshing around violently." Villa Ormiso is in Carrefour which was where the heaviest damage was. Pastor Val also lives in Carrefour.

We stood around the airport for a few hours talking with the other groups that were there. Apparently the plane was in Haitian airspace but couldn't get clearance for landing. (We found out later that they had only been cleared to land in Cap Haitian, went for it anyway in hopes that they could just come on to PAP, and that is exactly what happened.) Around eleven, we finally got a glimpse of our evacuation plane: a beautiful white turbo-prop, with "Hendrick Motorsports" emblazoned on the tail, alongside a checkered flag!

The plane's cargo was unloaded: boxes and boxes of medical supplies, and some relief workers. I saw the familiar orange logo of World Vision on a hat of one man. I knew my daughter Abby's boss was coming as photographer for WV, so I wondered if it was him. I asked him if his name was Jon, but it wasn't. He was Max, the logistics director for WV, and we had a nice talk while we waited to board. I told him everything I knew, contacts I had, phone numbers, emails, etc. in hopes of helping him get a head start on his job. What did I know??

Security was loose. A pilot gathered all 45 of our passports, whisked them away somewhere and came back with them stamped for exiting the country. I guess they waved that $40 exit tax this time. When it was time to "inspect" our luggage, we each opened our suitcases and pretty much just checked each other's. They loaded them on a cart and took them to the plane's belly. Linda, Lisa and Julia walked with great satisfaction toward the plane while I hung back and recorded it all on "film." Just as we got to the stairs, we saw it - a huge scale. The night before we were all dying a thousand deaths, as we had to give our exact weight, no exaggerating, to Wayne so that they could calculate weight for this small-ish plane. Humility. Now, here at the very end of our journey, we had to get on a scale again?? But we ended up having a good laugh with the crew, as they saw the shock and fear on our faces and assured us we didn't have to weigh in. Praise God.

It was a warm welcome we felt on that plane. Becky the only flight attendant seemed so happy to have us aboard. We all got settled in and the plane taxied down to the runway. As the plane lifted into the air, we saw the tents of journalists and military personnel set up in neat rows on the grounds of the airport. Farther out, we saw the ruins Port au Prince from the air, not unlike ancient ruins from some Roman or Greek civilization. Crumbles. Tent cities. We snapped pictures.

I felt saddened to leave. At that moment I really wanted to stay. I know that we were a burden; we had no place to stay, we had to drink their water, eat their food. But my heart was eternally linked to this country now, having gone through the first days of the tragedy with them. Tears filled my eyes.

Becky welcomed us onboard. She brought us Pepsi and Nabs, a taste of NC. We chatted with each other, and went forward and told our tales to the crew members who had joined us in the cabin. They were so interested in each of our stories, and listened with rapt attention. One of the MFI pilots, who was the liaison between Hendricks Motorsports and MFI, asked me my maiden name. He had been flying for 27 years and when I told him I was a former teacher at Quisqueya, he said he surely had delivered my mail. He remembered my name, and the names of my friends and roommates!

In an hour or so, we began our descent into Exuma, Bahamas. I'm not sure why we stopped there. I thought we had to clear customs or something; we didn't notice any re-fueling, and we didn't get off the plane. We were just there for about 15 minutes, and then took off again. The water beneath us was such a gorgeous blue-green. A true aquamarine.

As we drew closer to the US, our conversations deepened to the things of God. Many questions were to come, much sorting out of Divine intervention, the free will of man, the plan of God, the role of suffering. We all walk in sort of the shadows of truth, seeing glimpses of the light from time to time. So much to learn on this journey. So much farther to go.

We landed in Ft. Pierce, FL on a windy afternoon. At the bottom of the stairs, I kissed my fingertips and touched the ground. It was good to be back on American soil. Our flag blew fiercely in the stiff wind, what a beautiful sight.

The little airport surprisingly had passport control and a customs official. We completed our forms and passed through to the United States of America. Our bags went through a proper inspection, complete with an x-ray.

And there was Wayne. Wayne had flown to Ft. Pierce to do battle with MFI for our evacuation. We told him we all had a crush on him now! He loaded our bags into the rented SUV, and then - left. No one knew where he went. We all just stood around for about 30 minutes wondering what happened to our plan. :) Oh, Wayne.

After outfitting the Herseys with warmer clothing that Wayne had shopped for himself, we drove an hour or so to Orlando. We snapped a photo of the four of us at the airport and said goodbye to Julia, who was staying behind for the night. The Fantastic Four, someone called us.

Rush, rush, into the airport, our flight was boarding within the hour. We were famished, so we quickly consumed Nathan's hot dogs and fruit salad. Ruth, Sebastian, and Suzanna were with us and we helped them board. On to Atlanta, where we would say goodbye to Ruth and press what cash we had left into her hands. We boarded our plane for RDU, I was started to drag. Here at the very end of our long journey, I wasn't sure if I had the wits about me to greet the media we knew were waiting for us in Raleigh. I pulled myself together and got onboard.

Of course, we were all three sitting at the back of the plane and there was a delay in leaving. We tried to get our seats changed, but there was no way. We talked about what we were going to say to the cameras. Kirk had arranged for all the local TV stations to be there as well as the News and Observer. When we landed at RDU, I texted Kirk and told him we were the last ones off the plane. He said there was a huge crowd waiting for us. After one last stop in the ladies' room - trying to look some semblance of "good" for what we knew would be on television - we emerged from the secure area.

A large crowd with signs, flowers and cameras met us. My daughter, Jessie dropped her sign and rushed into my arms. We both fell into hysterical crying. All the stress pent up for those five days was released in a rush of emotion. Then my son, Jon grabbed me in a tearful and strong hug. Then my wonderful husband, my hero, embraced me long and hard. Then my dear mother. Then friend after friend. The cameras were patient, waiting to ask their questions and film their story.

We stayed there for almost an hour, each of us telling our story over and over again to friends and strangers. All those thoughts we gathered on the plane? Nowhere to be found...we just freely talked of God's provision, the beautiful Christian spirit of unity and generosity we witnessed, the miracles we observed and were a part of. The questions came and we answered.

We gathered in a circle and our pastor, Taylor prayed a prayer of thanks for a safe return.

Home by 1 am, dropped into that soft, amazing bed and slept like a rock.

Earthquake - Day Four

2010-01-30T03:54:00.000-08:00

At one point in the night, amidst the cacophony, there was an aftershock so strong, I went running to the top of the stairs and listened for the others, surely scrambling out of their beds, or at least talking in low tones about whether or not they should do the same. But no, everyone seemed to be fast asleep. Beyond all fear of waking my friends from their much needed sleep, I asked Linda and Lisa frantically if they "felt that." They sleepily replied "no." I crawled back onto the bed. But the peace you feel at night when you lay down to sleep didn't come. A few hours (minutes?) later I heard the Haitian family outside stirring, and I thought it must be about to dawn. In the distance I heard singing and chanting, too. I crept downstairs in the dark and listened. Soft talking, but no light in the sky was appearing (day dawns quickly near the equator, I'm learning). Again, stumbling up the stairs, I find my way back to the bed. Poor Julia, if she had any chance of sleeping, I was keeping her awake. I must be the most fidgety sleeper ever...she didn't move all night.

Finally the sky lightened. Even without sleep, daylight brings relief for some reason. It's like a new chance at a normal day with a normal ending of sleep. We all slowly worked our way to the kitchen, checked our email, and started on our new day. We enjoyed a lovely breakfast provided by our gracious hosts of Steve's homemade raisin bread, jam and an amazing mango.

The day proved to be filled with reading, writing, chatting with Mr. Factoids, walking to Quisqueya, and lots of emailing and facebooking. At one point, one of Odanie's cousins arrived, a doctor who lived a few hours away and wanted to come into PAP to offer help. He didn't really know where to go to treat the wounded and had no supplies. Ruth ran to her medicine chest and brought an armful of bandaids, ointment, peroxide, iodine, bandages, medicines of every kind. We emptied our bags of anything remotely medical in nature. Again, our stuff seemed to multiply and we were able to give him a good sized box. We snapped a photo, then he went out.

We kept communicating through the day with the guys back home in hopes of getting on a flight that night with Missionary Flights International. We were completely at the mercy of others to make our plans for us. We had no ability or power to arrange anything. We went through our suitcases and only kept the bare essentials in one carry-on. Goodbye t-shirts, skirts, and dresses. Goodbye The Book Thief, that I was supposed to read for book club. Goodbye nice beach bag from Stock Building Supply's trip to Costa Rica. Goodbye journal, with your written pages removed.

In the midst of Steve's duties as QCS director-turned-hospital administrator, and comforting his family, he managed to keep us in his plans. He was our only mode of transport to the airport later in the day, and yet we didn't even know which end was up on the plans. Linda's husband Wayne would call and say, "you need to get to the Embassy." Then 30 minutes later, a frantic email from my husband would come in, "have Linda read her email IMMEDIATELY!" Change - "go to the airport. Be prepared to spend the night." Then, "No, stay where you are until I call." It went on like that most of the day.

Eventually, it was firmed up that we would be flying out with MFI, on a private plane that Rick Hendrick Motorsports had donated. When exactly that plane was going to be available to fly out with us on it was way up in the air. Later in the day, after watching poor Ruth struggle with difficult decisions about what to do with her family, Lisa and I offered our seats to the Hersey children. We decided that we were the least "needed" at home, as our kids were all drivers and fairly self-sufficient. She would wait and talk to Steve.

Around 4, we got the "Go." We needed to be at the airport at 5 for a six o'clock departure. We loaded Steve's SUV and headed the back way to the airport. Ruth and the children would come back to the States soon, but not on this flight.

I probably took more photos on that ride to the airport than I had all week. Each time I raised my camera, I felt so conspicuous. I have always wondered how journalists can invade the pain of others. I know it is necessary, and I've watched my own photo-journalist daughter grapple with the same questions. But as an amateur, I didn't even feel like I should, or that I had an excuse. Yet I continued to snap away, trying to hide the camera from view whenever I wasn't shooting. My photos are not all that great for this reason, but I felt I needed to document what we were seeing, so that I could effectively communicate our ordeal, and the plight of the people there to potential donors. I knew our story would carry influence and weight in the fundraising effort.

I captured images of white mustaches - toothpaste spread under the nose to block the smell of death that was rising throughout the city. UN soldiers and police officers with rifles. Masks for the dust. Rubble. Lots of rubble. Heavy equipment beginning the clean up effort. Tent cities. Patient queues for water. Men bathing the dust off in a dirty puddle.

As we approached the airport, lines of folks wishing to exit the country waited outside the guarded doors. I rushed up and asked for the MFI flight, and I asked specifically about the Rick Hendrick's flight. They didn't know what I was talking about. Wayne thought we might need to go into the main terminal and wait, but those in charge (who was really in charge?) wouldn't let us pass. It was decided to go the the Missionary Aviation Fellowship hangar, where MFI usually departed from. When we arrived at the gate, miraculously someone was leaving and we just drove through the otherwise locked entrance. We saw the pilots and went to speak with them. They were amazed that we were able to get through.

They told us that the plane did not receive clearance to land that night but in the morning we had to be there at 9 am. The pilots were the Hersey's close friends, so arrangements were made to actually follow them into the airport's secure grounds so that we could leave. Security was super-loose, pretty non-existent actually.

When we got back to the Hersey's home, we decided to leave our bags inside and take a walk. I think we were all feeling like we were intruding on the Hersey's private life, in the midst of some of the most difficult decisions they were making; to separate their family so Steve could do his job without worrying about them. Again, we would have to impose on them for a place to sleep for the night, requiring the children to give up their beds to strangers once again. Dark was falling, but we strolled the quiet streets and snapped a few more photos.

When we got back to their home, the doctor was back, looking weary. We played with the little boys in Odanie's family, and I held the Down's baby and laughed as he bursted out in a hearty chuckle every time I said, "boo!" Moments of peace and sheer joy.

Time to go in and check our emails again. Sure enough, Wayne had written as soon as we'd left for the airport, that he got the word Stateside, the flight wasn't departing FL. But the pilots had assured us that it would be leaving in the morning, and we needed to be there ready to go. Ruth and the children were also going. They had decided. We notified the men back home that we would be on our way in the morning.

Back to bed...I dreaded climbing in, losing hope that I would ever sleep again. Somehow I had been functioning all week without it. As if on cue by a cruel maestro, the dogs, the mosquitoes, the doves, the roosters all warmed up their voices one by one. Misery. But I managed to get two or three hours.

Earthquake - Day Three

2010-01-26T16:24:00.000-08:00

Sunrise, day three. Tony-the-Elementary Principal (not to be confused with long-beard-Tony-the-teacher), led us to his apartment and offered us the use of his bathroom. We felt civilized once again. Then, luxury of all luxuries...he brought us a tray laden with four cups of coffee and cream and sugar! We drank coffee like proper middle-aged ladies, and changed our clothes, brushed our teeth and were refreshed. As we wandered about the school grounds, we spoke with several of the staff. The gals reminded me so much of myself, 25 years earlier. It was a trip down Memory Lane.

We all decided that we needed to send Pastor Val on his way, and reassure him that we could take it from here. We got all the suitcases out and went through everything. We sorted the dental supplies into one bag, the clothing into another. Candy, streamers, party favors and toys in a third. Vitamins, medical supplies, melamine dishes, fabric, sewing supplies. We loaded him up. We gave him gifts and gifts for his sister, Yrma. He proudly put on a new golf shirt as we all signed the North Carolina book we'd brought. Our little refugee family of five - Pappa Val with the four NC moms - posed for a photo together. We all tearfully hugged him and thanked him profusely for taking such good care of us. We pooled our cash and gave him the biggest Holy Ghost handshake we could spare. We urged him to be on his way to check on his home and the orphanage.

The rest of the morning was spent helping to divide up medications for the triage unit Quisqueya was setting up and planning to open the next day. There was a "Command Center" bulletin board, with lists of staff that was accounted for. Sobering. None were lost, miraculously, but we listened to stories of loved ones missing and lost. One little second grader was feared dead. The wife of a missionary was confirmed dead, while her husband suffered terrible injuries and had been airlifted first to Guantanamo Bay, and then to Miami. He still had yet to learn the horrible news.

We told our harrowing story, and listened to theirs. Many had spent the previous two nights on the field at the school. The grounds were miraculously spared any damage. They were converting the chapel into a surgery center. A group of 30 preschool children from an orphanage nearby was staying under the porch of the preschool building. I remember dreaming about teaching in that building when I first visited Quisqueya in 1982 as a college student. It was a beautiful thing to see that staff pulling together to serve their community. Dutch, American, Canadian, Haitian - all working together to be the hands and feet of Jesus. Some of the young teachers made plans to return to their families back home in the US or Canada. Certainly understandable. They were the age of my oldest daughter and I think I would have insisted on the same.

Steve Hersey, director of Quisqueya arrived and we were introduced. Although we felt safe, we still felt responsible for ourselves. We were generally at the mercy of these people; we had imposed upon their oasis in the night. We needed their support as we tried to make contact again with the US and to formulate a plan to get out of Haiti. It became imperative that now that we had separated from Pastor Val, and clearly were not on the course we had set out to be on when we left home, we had to leave. We were a drain on precious resources as we did not have a clear mission or purpose in staying. We would have gladly slept on those picnic tables again and fasted for a few days, but we had to have water. We didn't want to burden anyone with our presence.

We told Steve of our plan to stay at the CSI guest house a few streets away. Everyone began to tell us that it was badly damaged, and that that option was not a possibility. Steve took us there to talk with the guest house directors. They were sitting outside with computers and phones connected by long cords. Communication Central! We were able to make a few calls, send some email and post on facebook. We discovered that our husbands were working feverishly to get us evacuated. We all cried as we talked to our husbands and kids. My oldest, Abby, hurriedly told me of an opportunity she was given as a result of the earthquake: her boss had to give up an important trip to China to find the first child sponsored by World Vision in 1950, so that he could go to Haiti. He offered her the China trip as photographer. She had to know my response immediately as they were preparing visas. She was to leave in just a few days. Of course I gave my blessing; Just one request - get a satellite phone!

Steve quickly offered to take us to his home. He said we could keep his wife and kids company while he stayed at the school. They had been staying home, avoiding getting out and exposing the kids to anything disturbing. When we arrived, Ruth graciously welcomed us and we gathered under a beautiful bouganvillea outside on their patio. We talked of our experiences, how their house was undamaged but the books fell from all the bookcases. Their son, Sebastian had a chess game set up on a table in his bedroom. The table moved across the room but the chess pieces stayed in place. Sebastian entertained us with endless factoids. Suzanna read quietly and engaged us in conversation about her favorite books. Charming children.

Their dear friend of many years and housekeeper, Odanie had 10 of her family members camped out in the front yard. Moms, babies, toddlers and men spread out under tarps. None of the Haitians wanted to be indoors. Maybe we WERE the crazy ones.

The tremors continued, although they were not nearly as noticeable during the day when we were moving about and otherwise occupied. Ruth served us some homemade bread and cheese, and we shared our trail mix and granola bars. We washed dishes, played games and talked and talked. The internet worked off and on all afternoon, and we frantically exchanged correspondence with our families.

As evening approached, Odanie came inside and made spaghetti for us. Again, an incredible and relished meal. Amazing how appreciative you are of food in situations like that. When we finished, Ruth carried the extra outside to Odanie's family. This was their practice at every dinner. The sharing of a meal took on new meaning.

Sebastian and Suzanna offered us their beds for the night. I still feel so humbled by their kindness. They fretfully made the decision to sleep inside, all of them in one room. Unfortunately, Steve and Ruth have a water-bed, so every time Steve moved ever-so-slightly, Ruth panicked that another tremor was happening. Julia and I shared one bed, Linda and Lisa in another. We took very fast cold showers, and felt comfortable for the first time in days. As we laid down, we all looked forward to a good night's sleep.

But it was not to be. Between the constant tremors, the nocturnal fighting/screeching/barking/crying dogs, the roosters (who obviously don't know about sunrise), the two cooing doves outside our window, and the ever present mosquitos...we were kept awake by the cacophony. Now I know that people who live near airports get to the point of being able to block out the noise, but seriously....

Night number four for me without sleep.

Earthquake - Day Two

2010-01-21T08:01:00.000-08:00

I lift up my eyes to the hills - where does my help come from? My help comes from the Lord, the Maker of heaven and earth. He will not let your foot slip - he who watches over you will not slumber; indeed, he who watches over Israel will neither slumber nor sleep. The Lord watches over you - the Lord is your shade at your right hand; the sun will not harm you by day, nor the moon by night. The Lord will keep you from all harm - he will watch over your life; the Lord will watch over your coming and going both now and forevermore. Psalm 121

This is the scripture passage that those precious Christians were quoting all night long in that field. Linda said it was like "sitting in God's lap." Those precious people of God sang and worshiped and prayed and quoted scripture all night. Every time there was a tremor - they shouted hallelujah and praise the Lord and glory to God! Those shouts were like weapons against the fear. Small groups clustered around the field and as one group finished up their song, another picked up a prayer; as they closed their prayers, another quoted Psalms. And at midnight, a revival broke out! Shouts of praise and singing went up into the quiet night. It went on until the sun came up. I can only imagine what Heaven will be like, if that was just a glimpse! Such abiding peace. I hardly knew that chaos was all around us. The Lord knew that we would need a peaceful night for the next day ahead of us. We did not sleep, but somehow we were energized for the day ahead. Now this was also my second night of no sleep, remember?

As the sun came up around 6, the people gathered in one place on the field. They held a little worship service of singing and praying for about an hour. At that point we gathered inside one of the concession stands to the side of the field. Pastor Val was chatting with other men there, and we got bits and pieces of news. The tremors are expected to last until Friday. Planes with aid are supposed to be landing starting today. My family is okay. How's yours? We began to hear planes and helicopters in the distance, and then eventually saw them flying over our field.

After a while, Pastor Val suggested we walk back to his vehicle. In the daylight, it was easier to see, but also brought to light the extent and the horror of the damage. We stepped over power lines, power poles, rubble, a shoe here and there, around broken down vehicles, the injured, dying and dead. It was unimaginable and so enormous. The mind cannot comprehend; we just prayed as we walked and I'm sure the Lord shielded our eyes from too much.

We arrived at the Trooper just as the sun was climbing high into the sky, and miraculously, not a door or window had been disturbed. It was still locked up, our luggage was untouched, and my cash was all there. Thinking we would spend the day back at this location, we began unloading our bags. We were getting thirsty, too, as our water had run out. We had been sharing a liter bottle of water purchased at the Miami airport, although half had been consumed by the time we arrived in Port au Prince. There seemed to be plenty for us all night, but now it was time to find more. We had three water filters for the orphanage, so we opened one thinking we could use it for ourselves. The instructions were complicated and we needed two large containment buckets, which we did not have, nor a source of water, even dirty water. Pastor Val realized our need, and his, and disappeared in search of some. He miraculously returned less than ten minutes later with a huge bag of water pouches. I had been telling the ladies about these, and although I had been reluctant to drink from them in the past, we opened our hand sanitizer and wiped them down and drank deeply from several. We then refilled that liter bottle and shared it the rest of the week.

We changed clothes behind some chalkboards set up in front of the church, and sat down for a rest. Pastor Val, came to us then and announced that we needed to return to the field, that it was safer there. Again, reluctant and tired, and feeling a little lost, we piled our things back in that truck and headed out again.

On the way back to the soccer stadium, we remembered the supplies we had in our bags: band-aids, Neosporin, alchohol wipes, fabric, scissors, 25# of rubber gloves! So we decided that when we arrived we would use these things to help people. At first, one or two people came over and we applied the ointment and band-aids and prayed for them. the rubber gloves were rendered useless, as the bandages stuck to them and made the work difficult. Lisa stayed busy cutting strips of cloth to sling broken bones and hold ointment in place. But soon, we were mobbed with the injured: deep cuts filled with sand and rubble, broken legs and twisted feet, head injuries, the barely conscious. We were overwhelmed with our inability to help. I felt the crowd pressing in and the sun climbing high and beating down on us.

One dear woman had placed a dirty terry-cloth towel on a deep cut on her forehead. Overnight, it had dried in place. I knew that I must remove it before I could apply any antibiotic cream. I poured some water on the towel, and loosened it slightly. Then some ointment. A little more. Then I had to tug, but it wouldn't give. The fibers of the cloth were deep in the cut. I told Pastor Val to tell her that I must pull it off and that it would hurt, to brace herself. With tears in my eyes, I yanked that cloth as gently but as firmly as I could. She winced, but did not cry out. I had to do it a second time and I could hardly see for the tears. Finally that towel came off and revealed a gash needing stitches. All that and I couldn't really help her. I prayed for healing, and placed some Neosporin and a band-aid on her and sent her on her way.

A well-dressed man came to us and spoke in English. "My wife is in labor and close to delivering. I need you to help me." We tried to convince him that we were not doctors or nurses, but he insisted that any help would be better than none. While I bound up the bleeding, Linda and Julia went with Pastor St. Mark across the street to a hospital.

We heard very little by way of crying, moaning, or complaining. Even the little ones they brought us didn't fuss. We ran out of bandaids and ointment, and the crowd dissipated. Thousands of people began to pour into that stadium looking for shelter. They set up makeshift tent with four concrete blocks, four branches, and some sheets. They had a better set up than we did! The babies and children played under those tents with their mammas. The men must have been out helping. Pastor Val offered to move the truck to the other side of the field near his friends.

Lisa and I walked toward the hospital to find Julia and Linda. We were appalled to see many dead lying in the parking lot, on the sidewalk, at the entrance to the hospital. Some were covered up, some had a piece of clothing draped across their faces, but others, including a small boy, were not covered at all. There were also many injured and they called out to us for help. I suppose being white, people assumed the only reason we would be there was because we were relief workers, doctors or nurses. It felt like a violation of their trust to be there, because we could offer no help. We wandered around wondering where the entrance to the hospital could be, and then realized that we may never find them in there. We were both overcome with horror and decided to leave the area and go back to the field. As we walked down the driveway to the stadium a young man held out a baby to us with pleading eyes, "take her." We just shook our heads and said, "we can't." I wish I had taken her.

Lisa and I sat up on the bleachers, and waited, exhausted.

That was my low moment. I had cried the night before, but here we were in the middle of Port au Prince on a field, the US Coast Guard helicopters and planes flying overhead, but we felt so lost, and so unable to help. How would anyone find us here? No one knew where to look. We tried over and over again to reach our families on Pastor Val's phone, but the systems were overloaded and we couldn't get through. Pastor Val told us that the church was preparing food for everyone. Lisa and I sat on those bleachers, unable to rest or sleep, thinking surely the sun would go down soon, and we could at least lie down again.

It was 11:30 am.

We could not believe it. Soon Pastor St. Mark returned for provisions. They needed water. He said that one baby had been born, but his was still coming. He left. Within 30 minutes, he returned again with Linda, and his son had been born. They reached into our bags and gathered water, granola bars, sanitary supplies, and underwear for the mother and the Pastor. Their home had been crushed by the quake and they had nothing. We also gave him some money.

Soon both of our ladies returned, triumphant. Julia, who had been almost silent with fear up until now, was chattering away about her experience. How they had prayed because one baby was transverse and could not come down the birth canal. They watched the baby flip into place after Linda commanded the baby to move in Jesus' name. Julia described how Pastor St. Mark's newborn son peed all over the room upon entering the world. Joy amidst the sorrow. Linda named him, "Judah" which means praise because in the middle of all the pain, there was something to praise God for.

They cleaned up, and sat with us. We spread our blankets on the ground and tried to rest a little. We played with the children and their mammas nearby. Patty cake and "Oui, oui, non" their version of "Duck, duck, goose." We snapped photos of these beautiful people. And then another worship service began. We stood among the people and sang and thanked God for our lives again. Again and again we tried to phone out. Nothing.

And then, at 2:15, Pastor Val's phone rang. It was total stranger looking for Linda. They only spoke for 10 seconds and then it went dead. A few minutes later, it rang again, this time her husband, Wayne. We all cried, so happy that our families knew we were alive. She managed to say that we were on a soccer field on Delmas 33. Then the phone went dead again.

That put wind in our sails. The rest of the day was spent visiting with the people on the field, and playing with the children. Julia still preferred to stay in the truck, but the rest of us laid down on our blankets. Soon, it was time to think about bedding down for the night, so we picked a new spot. The precious church family there, had been preparing food all day in enormous vats. I'm not really sure how much they made, but we estimated 10,000 people on that field. They brought us a styrofoam container of the most delicious rice and beans with fish sauce that I have every eaten. We scrounged around in our bags for some plastic knives we had brought for spreading icing on cupcakes at the orphanage, and used them like chopsticks.

As the sky darkened, threatening storm clouds gathered over us. The wind picked up. The sky was about to open up on us. We ran to the truck for shelter. But no storm came. Just a few drops and then it was dark. We laid down for the night, even though it was only about 7:00. Julia and Pastor Val stayed in the truck. Lisa, Linda and I were on the ground again.

As it got darker and darker and more and more quiet, a few groups of men stopped by our blankets. At first they were asking about our blankets, could they have some, and then they became more bold and asked to lie down with us. Soon after this, about 11:30 pm, someone yelled in the dark, "Allez! Allez! Le mer! Le mer!" I thought I knew what he was saying, but I asked around to find someone who spoke English, and sure enough, they were shouting that the sea was coming; a tsunami. In my heart I knew that it was impossible. We were at Delmas 33 which is well above sea level, probably a few hundred feet. So even if the sea were coming, we wouldn't be affected up so high. But a frantic panic gripped everyone on that field, and all 10,000 people cleared out in 5 minutes. We hopped in the truck and took off as well.

We learned later that this was a ploy by looters to get people to flee, leaving their meager belongings behind. How cruel. But we saw it as the protection of God on our lives, because we were such vulnerable targets on that field for ill-intentioned trouble-makers.

Pastor Val began driving, and we just let him lead us where he wanted to go. He had been so good to us to this point, we trusted him as a father figure. In the dark, we turned onto a familiar street - Delmas 75 - Quisqueya Christian School! I asked him to verify that indeed we were there and he said yes.

It was quite dark inside their walls, so I wondered if no one was there. Perhaps they sustained damage as well and everyone had left. But the walls and the gate were in tact, so I boldly banged on one gate. No answer. I walked to the other gate, and yelled with all my strength, "Help! I'm Kellee Brackett! I used to teach here! We need shelter!" Soon someone came to the gate, and said in whisper, "Okay, come on in, just be quiet!"

A wave of relief swept over me. We were on safe and familiar ground and I just knew, now that we were here, we could work on getting home. We explained our situation to the Elementary Principal, Tony and he showed us to some picnic tables where we could spread our blankets. I stayed up a long time talking to the others, teachers and families that had sought shelter there. No sleep again, but such peace. In the morning, Tony led us to his apartment where we could freshen up and use the bathroom. Ah, what a luxury!

Earthquake - Day One

2010-01-20T04:43:00.000-08:00

Many are the plans in a man's heart but it is the Lord's purpose that prevails. Proverbs 19:21.

So true. After a sleepless night, in anticipation of a big missions trip to Haiti with my three friends, Julia, Linda and Lisa, I boarded our American Airlines flight to Port au Prince at 7 am. We enjoyed the comforts of the Admirals Club in the Miami airport and had a delightful salad for lunch. At 3:45 pm on Jan. 12, our pilot came over the loudspeaker in our plane. "Well, we're approaching Port au Prince; and we'll be arriving 15 minutes early, although I really don't know how that happened."

We commented on the new air-conditioned jetway, and the escalators that took us down to the main part of the airport. Someone said they had just been to PAP two months before and none of that was there. It was certainly a pleasant surprise to me; I had just told Julia that we'd have to walk across the tarmac!

We processed through passport control, gathered our bags, navigated through customs, paid a little $3 bribe to overlook our dental supplies and ran the gauntlet of porters anxious for our business. As we stepped outside, the warm air greeted us, and Haiti in all its glory and chaos was before us. Our driver, Pastor Val was late, and we commenced trying to call him. He finally came around 4:50 pm. We loaded our 400 pounds of supplies into his Isuzu Trooper and he parked us under some trees while he ran inside to collect two missing bags from the previous day.

An old, bearded Dutch man approached our vehicle and began chatting with us. As he held on to the door, the vehicle began to rock gently, and we all assumed the porters were back, wanting some more cash. But then the rocking became violent and the trees before us were swaying as if they were being blown by a hurricane-force wind. A suitcase fell from its perch and knocked Julia in the head. We bounced out of our seats. But there was no wind. There were no porters. Sam's face was ashen and he said, "I've been here 30 years and we've never had anything like this!" We looked up into the hills of Port and saw a white dust cloud rising from the city.

It was an earthquake of 7.2 magnitude. The first of its kind in over 200 years in Haiti.

As Sam ran away, Pastor Val miraculously appeared. Shaking and sweating, he began to tell of his terror: blocks were falling from the ceiling, dust was everywhere, people were falling down, he crouched beside a desk. But then he was able to come outside, shaken, but unharmed.

We got back in the truck and started toward our destination. Our plan was to visit a small orphanage near Leogane for a week, delivering supplies, assessing needs, planning for future assistance. But as we approached Carrefour, the epicenter of the earthquake, we were turned away. The roads were blocked, the bridge was out. Pastor Val turned us around and I told him we should head toward Quisqueya Christian School where we could find other Americans and possibly some shelter for the night, as it was fast approaching.

We headed through downtown Port au Prince. The devastation unfolded before us. Cracked and crumbled buildings. People wailing, shouting, praising God, praying and singing. Every citizen untrapped was in the street, as far away from a building as they could get. A naked woman, dashed from the shower, cowered under a small towel. An old woman being carried from a building. Blood. Shock. Power lines. Concrete. Bodies.

We began filming, snapping photos. We opened our suitcases and threw our clothes to naked people. Cars, trucks, buses, motorbikes were driving all over the roads and sidewalks in no particular order. We were just trying to pass. We achieved one mile in an hour. It became evident we would not make it up the Delmas to Quisqueya, 5 or 6 miles away. Pastor Val started thinking of options. He knew of a church not far.

Our mouths gave voice to desperate prayer. They mixed with the noise of the chaos. The Spirit got ahead of the mind and we cried out to God for help, for guidance, for peace.

The Delmas is a road that runs like a spine from the busiest part of the city up the mountain, eventually changing names and crawling up to Fermathe. It is numbered; low numbers at the bottom of the hill in town, Quisqueya is at 75.

As dark settled in, we turned onto Delmas 9. We stopped the vehicle in the middle of the road far from the concrete walls that lined the streets that served as security measures for people's homes and businesses. There was a man lying in the street in front of us. We stayed in the car while Pastor Val got out to see if he could help. One lady was frozen in fear and wanted to stay in the car and lock the doors. She begged us not to begin giving away our supplies, thinking we might be mobbed. We agreed. Due to the shock of the situation, we could think of nothing to sing. I remembered I had my I-pod full of worship music, and pulled it out. I put the earbuds in and just sang to my mates, trying to bring the Lord's peace to the situation. I must have sounded crazy singing acapella to them. But at that point, all sense of propriety was gone; we were desperate for God.

After a while, I got out to see this young man in the street, see if I could help him. He was moving, but it was unclear what his injuries were. I fished one of the 30 blankets we had brought for the orphanage out of the luggage and made a pillow for his head. He seemed incoherent, with a gash on his head and a bad headache. We told him to try and stay awake.

Pastor Val emerged from the church with the news that the church members were walking to a soccer stadium about 30 minutes away. He advised us that we should follow. We were reluctant to leave this seeming secure spot, but eventually agreed to go. In the dark, we gathered a few things for our carryons that we thought we might need for the night: passports, contact case and solution, toiletries, a pair of socks, cameras...what were we thinking? We really needed blankets, food, water, etc. I didn't even grab the $700 in cash I had. We began walking.

We headed back to the Delmas, and were swept up in the darkness and debris. Power poles were knocked down and live wires still zapped. People were camped on the curbing in the center of the street, just sitting on 6-inch wide concrete dividers, babies in arms. Many were praying with arms upraised. There was a peaceful calm, maybe shock, maybe prayer. Some cried. Not many moaned. Cars and buses were all catty-wampas around the roads. Buildings and concrete and blocks littered every square inch. The road was barely visible under the rubble, but we managed to keep each other in view and find our way to Delmas 33. We turned left onto this major road and continued on.

The walk was not 30 minutes, but at least 90. We finally arrived at at driveway, and behind a building a beautiful starlit sports complex greeted us. I felt we walked into Heaven, because there was a beautiful chorus of voices singing and praising God. Loud prayers were going up from another group. Clusters of families and friends sat in groups of 10, 20, 30 and comforted one another. A pregnant mother asked for help, as she was not feeling well. I felt her belly and asked her where she hurt. She was not in labor, but very uncomfortable. Her husband laid with her and spoke to her gently, keeping her warm.

It was the most peaceful night of my life.

White Christmas

2009-12-29T19:44:00.000-08:00

I barely knew this family in Haiti, but the dad was nicknamed "Swanee" I guess b/c his last name was Schwanz. He made everyone laugh and their family was known for being fun and passionate about serving God. Another friend posted this recent video of him describing some sobering experiences in Haiti at Christmas time.

I took the time to watch this because I expected something interesting, knowing Swanee's reputation among the missionaries in Haiti in the 1980s. But I didn't expect to be so moved. If you didn't watch it, he describes going down into the city of Port au Prince around Christmas time, and watched a woman take a bath in a pothole filled with filthy water, and then brush her teeth with it. All the while, Bing Crosby's "White Christmas" was playing in the background on a loudspeaker somewhere. He said it was a very popular song in Haiti, and even the woman bathing was singing along. Later, he heard a Haitian man singing it, and asked him if he knew what he was singing about. He said he surely did. He was asked if he knew what snow was then. The man replied, "I don't know snow, but I know what a white Christmas is. Everyone wants a white Christmas, one like white people have with presents and a house filled with food and a bed and friends!"

Things we take for granted. A beautiful house. Any house. Presents. Food. Love. Family. Plenty of clothes. A nice place to worship. Transportation. Education. Health. A future. Plans.

It still just gets to me that a place like Haiti is in America's backyard. Going there and delivering a little bit of aid seems like a drop in the bucket. But I'm just doing what is before me. It might not be much in the world's eyes (I'm no Greg Mortensen or Mother Theresa) but it's what I know to do.

May God multiply our efforts and gifts like he did with the loaves and fish, and make a supernatural difference through us.

Love Hopes All Things

2009-12-17T17:46:00.000-08:00

I'm going to confirm this next month when I'm actually in Haiti and can ask around...but I suspect there are lots of pastors caring for groups of children not their own. And not just in Haiti, but in other poor pockets of the world. It is a natural outgrowth of the life of Christ in a person, to take care of the fatherless and widowed.

We just happened upon this one. Although Pastor Val is an extraordinary man in our eyes, we have not met all the others.

I think this because I heard a Haitian friend tell me that yes, he's heard of a lot of pastors who do just what Pastor Val does. They seem to have the capacity to care for many.

Could I?
Could you?

And I heard about a large orphanage in Uganda, where a lady took in her grandchildren as one by one, her adult children died of AIDS. What started as a large family of Granny and the grandkids, turned into over 500 children 20 years later.

So here's a challenge: when we hear about a child or a teen that needs some extra help or care, do we ever think we should take them into our home? Do we even have opportunity to meet people in need like that, or do we live in comfortable suburbs with little or no interaction with the poor and needy? Actually, they may be in our backyard. I've heard many stories of teens who's parents have 'kicked them out' for one reason or another. More than likely, the teen was driving the parents to the brink, but would we be willing to put ourselves out there and take them in for a while? It could save a life.

But the risk is often a broken heart. In the movie, "The Blind Side," optimist Leigh Ann Tuohy takes in a young homeless athlete. The story has a happy ending; Michael finds love and acceptance in their home and goes on to succeed, choosing not to go back to the bad neighborhood. We didn't see Michael choosing the dysfunction, the gangs, the drugs, the crime, the dead-end track. We all probably had a warm fuzzy leaving the theater thinking, "I could do that!" "Surely a child from the hood would want to live in a nice house with all the trimmings."

But many times, the teen from a broken and dysfunctional background can't adapt to a somewhat normal lifestyle and doesn't make it. That is heartbreaking. You can lead a horse to water... It is so frustrating to want something so badly for a child, and have them come so close to achieving it, only to go back to the pattern that is familiar, though unhealthy.

So Christian, be on the lookout for those in need. Be willing to lay your heart on the line to be the one to save a life. Occasionally one will make it out, and make it in life. But we can't stop trying because we calculated the risk, and it doesn't look promising.

Love hopes all things.

Spiritual Warfare

2009-12-15T04:59:00.000-08:00

We toss that term around, "spiritual warfare," at least in the circles I run in. It most certainly applies at critical moments of change that would affect Kingdom dynamics. To car accidents...to illness...to business difficulties...to thefts. We've experienced this level of spiritual warfare often.

But I have been praying for a situation the last few days that certainly makes my trials seem light and momentary. And this situation was OBVIOUSLY so spiritual, it has brought a thousand new questions to mind about how God does things.

There is a precious young couple in Uganda, Joy and Simon Peter who were expecting their first baby. Simon Peter is the associate pastor of a church making a difference in Kampala, and his wife is the worship leader. Joy was eight months along when they had their first encounter with the demonic last month; she looked out into the congregation at a new face and stared into eyes that made her think of a black hole. She then passed out and began to tumble off the four-foot stage, only to be rescued by someone on the first row. Whew. But then later in the service, this woman with the hollow eyes asked for prayer and during prayer began to speak in a strange voice, "we were not able to kill her so we're going to have to kill the baby!"

Of course, everyone began praying for protection over the baby and the mother. Just this past Friday night, Joy went into labor. The baby wouldn't come naturally so at 5 am on Saturday, Gabriel was delivered via C-section. But he wasn't breathing. The doctors tried frantically to get him to breathe and placed him on special machines.

Sunday morning at 5 am, seven or eight people in their church woke with terrible dreams about the baby, about his death. Some felt strangled in their sleep. Others saw dark, frightening hands reaching for them. Another friend became deathly ill in his abdomen. They all awoke with the urgent sense to pray fervently for this child. There was a church service at 7:30 am. The woman with the black eyes was there again, and had the same dark message: "we are going to kill the baby."

By the afternoon service, the message went out that the baby had died, was pronounced dead at 7 that morning. All day Sunday, pastors and elders from the surrounding area came in to pray for this baby's resurrection. Believing that the devil himself was behind all this, they prayed in faith. I was even praying when I found out on Sunday afternoon.

Monday morning I heard the news that they were releasing the baby to death. Everyone was devastated but at peace. I cannot imagine the depth of grief Joy and Simon Peter are feeling. My friend with the abdominal illness wrote this:

"It's terrible, but tonight God's people are mourning while the devil is celebrating. Did we not pray enough? Why would God warn us through dreams if the future was inevitable? Is the hospital to blame for not helping properly? Or did the devil just win this battle? Or is this the way it was meant to be? Was it meant to be that these good, honest, loving, God-fearing people loose their first born son, while a prostitute in the next town has a healthy baby and throws it in a dumpster because she can't provide for it...it's true, I read about it in last week's paper, and will probably read a similar story this week. But I guess we will never know the answer to any of these questions during our time on earth...sometimes questions must be better unanswered."

I have exactly the same questions.

But as we venture out to Haiti, so similar to Uganda and other parts of Africa in its spiritual oppression, we must be mindful of this level of battle. We must be alert and 'prayed up' as we go out. My traveling companion, Lisa, keeps reminding me that we have to spend some time fasting and praying. I am so caught up in the planning details that I forget where we are going! She is SO right.

So we are stepping up our prayer efforts ahead of this trip. Pastor Val and others deal with this all the time in Haiti. Pastor Val spoke of snakes he was battling and killing in his bed for three nights in a row. On the morning of the fourth day, he saw the same snake in a tree, and it spoke to him. He realized that it was no ordinary snake that would just die, but that it was a demonic attack. He then took different action and prayed that snake out of his life!

The weapons we fight with are not the weapons of he world; on the contrary, they have divine power to demolish spiritual strongholds (2 Corinthians 10:4). But I take comfort in this: You dear children, are from God and have overcome them, because the One who is in you is GREATER than he that is in the world (1 John 4:4).

I'm glad my God is strong.

Philanthropic Advice

2009-12-12T12:07:00.000-08:00

Nick Kristof is an especially observant and thoughtful journalist. Daughter Abby applied for an internship with him a few years back through a contest. That's when I first heard of him; she didn't win, but we've all admired him since.

Outside magazine published this article by him the other day. I love what he says about personalizing the great needs around the world. When we hear terms like "millions," "epidemic," "plague," etc., as individuals, we feel overwhelmed. And because the problems are distant, we can turn them off in our minds, and we don't feel the pain.

But that's not moving the ball down the field. To be good communicators for our cause, we must learn some things. Putting a face and a name and hopes and dreams with the problem makes it much more do-able and personal. I think this is why Pastor Val and the children he cares for have been such an easy "sell" for lack of a better word. Not that we set out to pitch anything. It's just that this little place is not that difficult to take care of. It's relatively closeby and easy to get to, it's cheap to feed kids in Haiti, it's absolutely do-able!

People are generous when they feel connected to the individual. And they are much more generous when there is some hope! All that sad statistic-waving is just plain depressing, and doesn't get me in the mood to really help. Big numbers and pitiful faces don't motivate most folks. I just want to lighten the load off my conscience. (I'm thinking of those LONG commercials for Save the Children, with pathetic faces oozing and fly-infested...) And sadly, I can usually do that by switching the channel.

So I first give praise to God for moving on the hearts of so many people to get involved. But I also know that from a genuine first-person touch, in a manageable project, people really feel like they are personally making a difference. There aren't 10 layers of volunteers to go through to be connected to Pastor Val...just the Mettys. And I can take you there, too if you want to go!

December 11, 2009

2009-12-11T08:13:00.000-08:00

I no longer try to anticipate what the Lord will do. It so is far beyond my realm of understanding, expectation, or even hope that I don’t presume to imagine what God is up to in a particular situation. I am indeed just along for the ride, and what a wild ride it has become.

For the moment, His favor seems to be resting on our orphanage project. Since about the end of October, there has been one little miracle after another. These things were going on all the time, in the hearts and lives of different individuals, but I didn’t know about them, and I wasn’t receiving the encouragement from knowing. So at each turn, with the dawn of each new day, I wonder to myself, “I wonder will happen today?” because I just know something will.

Have a look at the complex tapestry of people and events JUST SINCE THANKSGIVING that God has woven:

Sat., Nov. 28, 2009

Met a young man while decorating the church for Christmas who owns a small computer repair business…this led to him taking my old laptop and refurbishing it for Pastor Val for free!

Wednesday, December 2, 2009

Got confirmation that two ladies are going with me to Haiti…need to make sure there is room at the guest houses for all of us!

Thursday, December 3, 2009

At the dentist today, and as I talked about my upcoming trip and our project in Haiti, she offered to load us up with rubber gloves, and anything else we could use! Picking it up on Tuesday.

Friday, December 4, 2009

My dentist called first thing this morning and wanted to know if I was serious when I had asked her the day before if she’d like to go with me (on my trip to Haiti in January). We could really use her services and skills there!

Saturday, December 5, 2009

Found out from a friend, Karen that her son is running a 5K in FL in early January and he wanted to raise money for Pastor Val. This young man is currently enrolled in a boarding school program and has recently given his life to the Lord in a radical way.

Sunday, December 6, 2009

A friend, Ron, handed me a $100 bill at church for the trip.

Monday, December 7, 2009

A donor, who wishes to remain anonymous, called and said they were putting a check in the mail for $11K. I’m speechless.

Tuesday, December 8, 2009

Got an email first thing from Jenn Gash from Sweet Sleep, a non-profit that provides good beds, bedding and mosquito nets to orphanages. Again, I didn’t seek her out; someone gave her my name. She was looking for a small group of children to bless in Haiti. Looks like our kids are going to have a decent place to put their heads at night.

Wednesday, December 9, 2009

Two things today: First thing this morning when I opened my email…Richelle, who is a young woman who lived with us for two years in the 1990s, wrote and said that there was a group of 20 cadets from Westpoint’s Officers Christian Fellowship group that want to spend their spring break in March serving our orphans! Her husband is a professor there and they work with this campus ministry.

Then, I met a man at The Shoe Repair (a shop in Chapel Hill that, you guessed it, repairs shoes) from Rwanda, a doctor. He cannot practice in the US so he travels to developing nations (that’s a euphemism for poor) and provides medical services. He gave me his number after we talked about Haiti for a while. He’s never been there, but I could tell he was intrigued.

Thursday, December 10, 2009

Again, two things: got an email this morning from Josh C., a young man in his thirties who has known a measure of success. He is a friend, not close, but a comfortable relationship. I had contacted him when I first started thinking about taking a trip this winter, because he had started a non-profit a few years ago to help with the worldwide orphan crisis. I knew he’d be interested in what we were doing. He wrote to me in early October (hadn’t corresponded with him in over a year) and had heard that we were collecting supplies for an orphanage in Haiti. I responded that we were, and specifically asked him if he’d be interested in donating laptops. Didn’t hear back until this morning. This time he was asking very specific questions about what we needed.

Secondly, made a connection with a professor at NCSU who is working with Christianville Foundation in Gressier, Haiti in their goat program. This program has been benefiting our children nearby. I had NO idea that there was someone at NCSU connected with this effort! We are having lunch next week.

________________________________________________

I am so excited, Lord to see what will happen today! Even the way all that stuff for the orphanage fit so nicely into one of my suitcases and weighed less that 50 pounds. Thank you for demonstrating Your great love for the world, and for me through all the Divine activity I see around me. In this, I know you care for me...

The Back Side of the Earth

2009-12-10T06:36:00.000-08:00

If the earth had sides, there would be a back side. Politically insignificant, countries that have no natural resources, industry, exports or even any tourist value would be back there. Villages that have no electricity or good drinking water. Homes made of cardboard, that wash away with each heavy rain. Families living ten, twelve, fourteen in a 10' x 10' room with a dirt floor, and no door. Parentless children with no hope, no future, no childhood.

Who cares about that place?

Haiti is just such a place. It holds no international significance, politically unstable and the infrastructure in such chaos, that some have mused it could fall off the face of the earth and no one would notice. Some would give thanks that the blight on the Western Hemisphere is gone. It has been called the 'graveyard of missions,' as so many have invested years and millions to better the place, but to no avail.

I lived there in the early 1980s when there was a brutal, but stable dictatorship in power. Life was rough for the average Haitian; food was scarce, jobs were hard to find, begging children with bloated bellies and orange hair were commonplace. But there was some industry; Rawlings wound baseballs, and Judy Bond stitched blouses. Club Med had a resort destination north of Port au Prince, and similar resorts dotted the stunning coastlines.

My first visit to Haiti since the fall of the Duvalier regime came in 2007 with my family. Though I knew it was so, I was still so stunned to see the country in such horrible disarray. Assuming democracy was a friend to Haiti, I expected to see some progress. Unfortunately, it was worse. House-size piles of rotting garbage filled the streets. Rivulets of human waste, plastic bottles and filthy water criss-crossed every path. Cement skeletons of unfinished houses occupied lots where children chased away hungry mongrels, evidence of investments gone bad. Crumbling concrete was all that was left of streets and sidewalks whose construction had once been a source of income for so many. Once lush and extravagant playgrounds, beach resorts were barren shells of their former glory. Traffic, typically chaotic, involved playing bumper cars all the way to the guest house, and enduring three minor accidents where no one even stopped to check the damage.

Ironically, we were stopped for a missing taillight, with the threat of a thousand-dollar fine. Insanity.

Somehow, an old friend, Franklin Val, managed to reach the age of 69. We met him in 1984, a pastor and translator with a wife and five children. Well educated, he spoke French, Creole and English quite well, and frequently translated for us. He owned a beat-up SUV, and worked as a driver for foreign visitors (pastors don't earn a living in Haiti preaching). It was during one of these chauffeuring gigs, that he encountered the violence of those early coup attempts. In 1987, while driving for an NBC news crew, Pastor Val was caught in the cross-fire. He managed to drive himself to a hospital with four life-threatening gunshot wounds, one to the chest. In a dramatic end to his front teeth, he collapsed face first at the hospital door. During the fight to save his life, he remembers stating, "I will live and not die!" He had a lot of time to think during recovery. As a result of the burden he felt for so many children wandering the streets in the wake of the violence, he took in 55. He and his sister, Yrma, have been doing so ever since.

We hired this toothless tri-lingual chauffeur on our visit in 2007, re-uniting with an old friend. He brought us up to speed about his family (his wife had passed) and work with the orphans in Bognotte, a two hour drive from Port au Prince. He told us that their only source of income was his taxi service. He and sister Yrma, 67, were solely responsible for 30 boys and girls. We had heard about all this before we went, so we were prepared to visit and bring gifts. What we saw has forever changed our lives.

Just three miles off the main highway, the twenty minute drive took us over dusty then muddy paths, carefully picking our way in and out of huge gaps in the 'road,' and through small creeks. Ever-enterprising Haitian teenagers waited at the intersection of the main road with their scooters, ready to transport folks in and out of the back country. Upon arrival at the orphanage, our vehicle was swarmed by warm brown faces, toothless grins and shy greetings. So many blancs way out here in the country!

The children had obviously worked all morning preparing their home for our visit. The few possessions they had were neatly arranged on a shelf. Nothing was out of place. On a 95 degree day, Steevenson's long-sleeved, plaid flannel shirt was neatly tucked into his jeans, and buttoned to the top. Few were wearing shoes; all were eager to see what we had brought. We distributed small gift bags with candy and toys, and we brought games and crafts to play with the children. A new soccer ball was welcomed with great fanfare! Pastor Val showed us around; there was a main room with a large picnic table and the aforementioned shelf. Two adjacent rooms held squeaky metal bunk bed frames with sheetless thin mattresses lacking pillows and blankets as well. Crumbling walls, tin roofs which turned bedrooms into ovens at ten o'clock in the morning, and dirt floors made up the structure. In the back there was an outhouse. We posed for a photo with the group here. Not a kitchen in sight. We learned that Yrma daily cooked for the group over an open camp fire.

For 22 years.

There was so much hope in those faces, especially the teenagers. Our youngest connected with a girl, Stephanie, her age. What a sobering contrast, to think of the opportunities our daughter has compared to what Val's kids are faced with. We were truly overwhelmed. But you could tell they saw opportunity packed in our suitcases. This new connection with the civilized world could provide a better life for these little ones, truly the "least of these." Even pushing 70, Pastor Val had the audacity to hope for technologically competent and well-educated students. He showed us the land, 30 acres, that he owns where he'd like to build a better facility - a dormitory, a clinic, a school and a kitchen that will feed the surrounding community. He talked about computer education, job training and spiritual development that would produce intelligent contributing members of society with strong moral character, the hope of Haiti.

Without enough for the burdens he currently carried, Pastor Val still managed to stop along the way home and offer a bag of food or a few gourdes to people he cared for. After 22 years, some of the girls he raised are young women trying to make it on their own. His generosity had long reach. He stopped to speak softly to a drug-crazed man, and refused to give him money based on his answers to questions gently posed. A true pastor.

So, who cares about Haiti? God does. He cares about each individual in this corner of the back side of the earth. Each of those children bears the image of God, and He has a destiny and a plan for their lives. They are precious in His sight.

And God brought this little group to our attention.

So we care, too. Heidi Baker, a missionary in Africa, says, "each one, reach one." A simple directive. If we each only did what was put in front of us to do, the body of Christ would accomplish the goals we were asked to achieve on the earth. Problems like those faced in Haiti, are way too large for anyone, or any government to handle. But child by child, orphanage by orphanage, pastor by pastor we can make a difference.

Haiti is not forsaken by God. The evidence is overwhelming that He is active and involved. Too many 'coincidences' have surrounded this effort. They are obviously not just coincidences. Divine intervention is at work. This blog will document what has been happening along the way.

I am happy to introduce you to Haiti, and to Pastor Val. Now let's see what God has been up to.

December 4, 2009

2009-12-04T08:05:00.000-08:00

DEC. 4 email

40 million orphans worldwide in the next 10 years...that is too much to think about. What in the world could I do? I feel like God has given me an answer to that question, and He is providing solution after solution, even in the midst of the housing and economic crisis. I wanted to bring you all up to speed on the Haitian orphanage project we are involved with, and ask you to pray for me during the next few weeks. I am not asking for any financial support. I am just so excited about what is happening, I wanted to encourage you and ask you to share in the blessing.

As many of you already know, our family has reconnected (after 22 YEARS) with a Haitian pastor friend from the 1980s. He is now 71 years old, and has been caring for orphaned children in a small orphanage he started during the many coups in Haiti in the late 80s. I have started making plans for a trip in January and I have numerous goals I want to accomplish (see below). I was telling a friend about a generator someone is interested in donating that would power a whole city block! She suggested, half-jokingly, that we should THINK BIG, and try to find a way to be a blessing to the whole community with that generator. We might have to get the government involved, but what the heck? We serve a big God and this is just one of many miraculous and serendipitous events surrounding this project on the back side of the world. It is astounding how interested the Lord seems to be in bringing aid to this little group of children and the community they live in. And the Lord is rewarding Pastor Val and his sister, Yrma, for the many years of sacrifice to care for the "least of these." (For the back story on Pastor Val, visit www.valschildren.weebly.com)

I am planning to get some solid information on this trip, and I have several major goals:
1. To check into adoption from this orphanage. My guess is Pastor Val has been so busy trying to parent all these people that he hasn't given adoption a second thought. I want to make that happen for him, if it would be helpful.
2. To discuss short, mid and long-term goals with Pastor Val. He is 70, and will need a successor at some point. He also owns 30 acres there and wants to build a better facility when the finances come in.
3. To arrange for shipping into Haiti. There is a lot of corruption at the borders, so finding a reliable way of getting supplies in is of utmost concern. One of my Kindergarten students from 1985 is now 30, and is a pilot with Agape Flights Int'l. I plan to visit with his family while there and see if there is a way to use their services. His father is Haitian, too, and could help with translation and other ideas.
4. To get photos and bio information on each child for sponsorship purposes.
5. Get the orphanage set up with some computers. I have had two donated; need a few more. I will be taking them in my luggage.
6. To follow up with Pastor Val on donations already given with photos and documentation.
7. In addition to these big things, I plan to host a party for the kids with cupcakes and gifts, deliver basics like clothing, medicines, vitamins, school supplies and have a little VBS.

And, as a bonus, I have reconnected with some of my students from those days in Haiti as a single gal, and I will be visiting with their families who are still there, 25+ years. They are some amazingly dedicated people to stay in a country like that for so long. I'll be speaking at chapel at the Christian school where I was a teacher. I will probably spend a few nights in Port au Prince with a family.

I really feel that God reconnected us with this Pastor for just a time as this; He has given us this little task, it's our little piece of solving the orphan puzzle. In the natural, it doesn't make sense, because our business has tanked with the serious problems in the housing industry. But somehow, God has continued to provide for Pastor Val, with or without us and He seems to be using us to facilitate the blessing.

I'm working every possible angle on supplies for this trip. So far, there are two of us going, but potentially three more. We can each check 100 lbs. of luggage. So I'm amassing all kinds of stuff. I've got two dentists donating dental clinic supplies; two laptops so far, need three more; fabric for sewing projects, and clothes and toys for the kids. Still need more...vitamins, basic meds/first aid supplies, underwear, shoes, some basic cooking supplies (pots/pans, mixing bowls, serving spoons/ladels, prep knives, metal dishes/cups/utensils). If you want to send anything, send it to me at 661 Cedar Grove Rd. Pittsboro, NC 27312 and I'll pack it up!

I've also just met a young man with a computer repair business who is helping me refurbish my old IBM Thinkpad to take to the orphanage. If you have an old laptop like this that just needs some TLC and you would like to donate it, let me know.

And, as a surprise (I think God likes to surprise us)...I found out recently with great joy, that another family has discovered Pastor Val and has been helping him in ways we hadn't thought of (mostly agricultural) and has been providing assistance during this tough financial time for our family. So where we are weak, God is strong!

Thanks for taking the time to read all this...if you made it this far... And thanks for praying over this project. God is OBVIOUSLY involved as so many things have happened that are unexplainable otherwise.

November 14, 2009

2009-11-14T07:53:00.000-08:00

Email that was sent out Nov. 14:

Hi!
I just had the most amazing thing happen. I was driving home from a church workday, thinking about my trip to Haiti (seems to be on my mind all the time) and wondering how I could get some money (like from an ATM) if the opportunity arose while I was there to get the materials to build a chicken coop and get some chickens. I was also wondering if it was legal to take seeds in with me to plant a garden with.

And I got home, and found an email from Amy, one of the missionaries at Christianville, the compound not far from Pastor Val's place that offered their clinic services to him and the children last year. She said that her parents had really fallen in love with those children on one of their visits, and that SOMEONE HAD DONATED MONEY SPECIFICALLY FOR A CHICKEN COOP AND CHICKENS AND HERE WERE THE PHOTOS!!!! I almost leaped off the couch reading it! The chicks were brand new and would be ready for market in 6 weeks, for egg production and meat. It is a source of income for the orphanage, as well as a learning opportunity for the children.

I am amazed at God's care; I have felt so inadequate caring for them, as if it were up to me anyway... I just keep wishing there was a way to do more. And I've been specifically thinking along the lines of micro-investing, or just finding ways of helping them to become self-sufficient, especially when Pastor Val passes on.

Just wanted to share that bit of incredible news with you. Thanks for your love and support.

Kellee

Forwarded messages from Amy's mother:

Hi Kellee,
I am Amy Riechley's Mom, Rita. I hope you don't mind that Amy gave me your address. She told me about you & I was hoping to someday meet you. My husband & I will be in Haiti Jan. 11th - I will be staying till Feb 2nd. I hope that maybe we could meet, if the timing is right for you too.
We have surely taken an interest & fell in-love with Val, Emma & the kids. We are trying to get others to partner with helping them also. God has been good to lead us to some very kind, generous Brothers & Sisters-in-Christ who have come along side of us.
I will send you a couple photos of the new chicks that were just delivered this past week. At 6 weeks of age they will be ready for market so the orphanage can make a profit & even eat some themselves too. We have other projects planned that I'd love to share with you.
Hope to meet you in Jan.
God Bless,
Jeff & Rita Riedel

Here are the new chicks delivered this week to Val's!
They will be ready for market in 6 weeks!
God Bless the gift & the giver!
Rita

November 11, 2009

2009-11-11T07:50:00.000-08:00

Email that went out in early November:

Hello Friends,
Guess what?! I'm going to Haiti! God has miraculously provided some funding, and I'm going to visit Pastor Val and the orphanage, and some old friends in Port au Prince in January. I think I also have two others coming along, and we can each take up to 100 pounds of checked luggage. I plan to fill up those bags with socks, underwear, school supplies, vitamins and other needed supplies. There are approximately 30 children, boys and girls, aged 3-17.

Would you and your family consider donating some items, maybe as part of your Christmas gifting? Even if it's just one item, every little bit helps. I don't mind taking used things, if they are in excellent condition.

Here is a list:
socks
black or dark blue tennis shoes
underwear
bras
short-sleeved t-shirts
pants for boys
skirts/dresses for girls (remember - it's hot there)
multi-vitamins
bandaids
antibiotic cream (like Neosporin)
first-aid kits
toothpaste

Thank you so much! I'll keep you posted with forthcoming details.