The last three days have to be written about together. There is no other way. We woke up and packed. Jeremy, the driver, was due to be in Pestel around 12:00, which meant we had to leave directly after the Sunday morning service. Having endured the almost 9-hr boat ride to Cayemite, we decided to limit time on the sea, so we arranged for a 1.5 hr boat ride to Pestel, and then a ride across Haiti that would be approximately 8 hrs.
Ricardo preached his heart out and this after we witnessed a moving baptismal service in the ocean directly in front of the town. After Ricardo preached, the pastor spoke about Ricardo, and Charness came up to speak about me to the church. It was moving and it meant a lot. Ricardo, myself, Dani, and Jasmine all spoke to the congregation. I could hardly get any words out as emotion poured out of me. It is an humbling event to look into the eyes of a group of people that hold nothing but hope and love, and desperately want you to come back because you have brought hope with you. This is what I saw, and it was hard to leave. Together the leaders and the pastor prayed over us as we started our journey home.
We rode to Pestel on beautiful seas and arrived to the sight of…no Jeremy. Turns out, as he came into the town of Pestel the vehicle had two flat tires. A local resident had us to sit on her front porch as we waited, and Jeremy showed up with a temporary tire after 45 minutes or so. Cedesse had come over with us and we said goodbye. Charness headed back to Port-au-Prince with us so in total we had seven passengers in a vehicle designed for five…plus we had a rooster that Ricardo’s uncle gave him. We drove to the edge of town and again sat on the steps to someone’s front porch as we waited for the tires to be repaired.
After the repairs were made, we loaded up and headed into the mountains of southern Haiti. The roads were rough and the stones were sharp. The scenery was both awful and breath-taking as we drove further into the mountains. Two flat tires later, we found ourselves with a dead battery, and no way to get moving again. We had food so we ate as we pondered the situation, and we flagged down a motorcycle driver to find a battery in the next town for us. The next town was an hour and a half away, and well after dark we realized that he was not coming back. This is the first time that I got a bit worried. A local man allowed us to sleep on his floor. Since I was the real foreigner, I was given a cot to sleep on with a reed mattress. We all laid down, and slept very little as two other cars broke down in the same place in the middle of the night, and the people in those vehicles were not happy. They yelled and beat on the door, but never tried to really get inside. I figured if I was killed it would probably be fast, so I prayed about it and went to sleep. I woke up to the crowing of roosters and a little cooler temperature as we were in the mountain region.
About an hour after we all woke up, the guy on the motorcycle showed up with a battery for the vehicle. Turns out, he had had two flat tires on the motorcycle, and it took him until the next morning to get back to us. We were praising God as we cranked the vehicle up and headed back through the mountains. As we drove down the coast of southern Haiti, we were treated to some of the most wonderful ocean views. The water reminded me of the blue ocean you would see in Cozumel. I was informed that the majority of missionaries in Haiti outside the city of Port-au-Prince resided on this side of Haiti. I wonder why? It is beautiful. After a time we came into the third largest city and stopped to eat, get a tire repaired (again) and recharge a bit. After two more flat tires, and going back over the mountains, we dropped in at the mission that we first stayed in to speak with Pastor Adrienne. He informed us that they were ready to send much of the Mennonite canned meat over to Cayemite. What a blessing. Ricardo had become pretty sick, so we headed back into Port-au-Prince.
Once again I was struck with the tent cities, shelters, and destruction from around the 40 mile out mark. As we came into the city of Port-au-Prince, it was very sobering to see all that was left. Finally, the 8 hour trip that turned into 2 days was over. Around 5:00 on Monday we arrived at the home of a cousin that was untouched by the earthquake. We unloaded, took showers, ate a meal, and went to bed…exhausted.
The house was surrounded on three sides with people living in tents and shelters. Such was the case in much of this area. Daniel, Dani’s cousin, was living in the home helping his father as he had health issues. Daniel’s family was in Canada and had been without Daniel for at least a month. What a pleasure it was to speak with him and hear his heart as he reached out to his family and countrymen and women. After breakfast, he took us to the airport, and we soon departed for Miami.
After landing in Miami, we made it through the customs areas and I connected to my flight to Atlanta. Ricardo and Dani stayed for a couple of days in the Miami area with family there, but this young man went home. I have never been so glad to be driving in the Atlanta airport area in my life. Real paved roads and everything, it was great. I got home and took what seemed to be the longest shower in my life and slept like a dead man. I was home, my wife and kids seemed glad to see me, I was glad to see them, and God was and is so good.
Prologue next…
Ocmulgee River @ Giles Ferry
Thursday, April 22, 2010
Tuesday, April 20, 2010
Haiti Day 6
Saturday started off with breakfast, and the idea that we would take it easy. The plan was to enjoy the day, go to church service at night, listen to Ricardo throw it down, and rest because after Easter morning service, we would be leaving. For the second time during the trip, things went according to plan. We took it easy…all day. Once again, we conversed with the kids, answered questions from the kids, terrorized the other kids who were shy, and generally held to the plan…rested. Ricardo was not feeling well, so it was rather easy to stick to the plan. Dani left out at some point to visit some of the elderly townspeople with Pastor Micah, and they returned around lunchtime.
Lunch consisted of goat and fish, and I spent considerable time in conversation with pastor Micah…via Dani’s mad interpreting skills, of course. I do not believe that I have ever met a harder working pastor than this man of God on the island of Cayemite. He was always on the go. He pastored the church and this included a 5:00 a.m. prayer meeting every morning. There was regular services, special services, visits to the infirm, the running of the school, etc. You name it, he did it, and this on an island where you have to walk everywhere…and he had a prosthetic leg. During the course of the conversation, I asked him what he needed in the way of books. He requested two…a Bible dictionary, and a special translation, study Bible. When pressed, he expressed the desire to make the church a little more private, and he wanted to be able to have a bigger home in order to have people over for prayer and conversation. His current home was about 400 square feet and he had one daughter, his wife, and an elderly women he took care of. He wasn’t asking for much. I admire Pastor Micah, and I hope that I can become more like him as he embodies Christ-likeness. He really has nothing, but gives everything, and in that, he has more than most will ever know.
Having preached on 5 of the seven words from the cross, I was rather curious to know what Ricardo would preach on during the Saturday night service. Impressed upon him was the topic of sin, and it was rather fitting to bring about an ending to why Jesus died. Saturday night’s service was great. Ricardo did a masterful job in his typical stirring way. In fact, I looked outside several times to make sure that there was no fire raining down from the heavens, because Ricardo was bringing the heat. The services for the week closed out after this stirring message, and we retired to the house for dinner and conversation with the pastor and deacons.
Although we did not do much physically during this day, for me, at least, it was about reflection of the week and marveling at all God did. He is rather amazing, and He loves us in spite of what we are, and where we drag Him. Amazing…this God we serve!
Lunch consisted of goat and fish, and I spent considerable time in conversation with pastor Micah…via Dani’s mad interpreting skills, of course. I do not believe that I have ever met a harder working pastor than this man of God on the island of Cayemite. He was always on the go. He pastored the church and this included a 5:00 a.m. prayer meeting every morning. There was regular services, special services, visits to the infirm, the running of the school, etc. You name it, he did it, and this on an island where you have to walk everywhere…and he had a prosthetic leg. During the course of the conversation, I asked him what he needed in the way of books. He requested two…a Bible dictionary, and a special translation, study Bible. When pressed, he expressed the desire to make the church a little more private, and he wanted to be able to have a bigger home in order to have people over for prayer and conversation. His current home was about 400 square feet and he had one daughter, his wife, and an elderly women he took care of. He wasn’t asking for much. I admire Pastor Micah, and I hope that I can become more like him as he embodies Christ-likeness. He really has nothing, but gives everything, and in that, he has more than most will ever know.
Having preached on 5 of the seven words from the cross, I was rather curious to know what Ricardo would preach on during the Saturday night service. Impressed upon him was the topic of sin, and it was rather fitting to bring about an ending to why Jesus died. Saturday night’s service was great. Ricardo did a masterful job in his typical stirring way. In fact, I looked outside several times to make sure that there was no fire raining down from the heavens, because Ricardo was bringing the heat. The services for the week closed out after this stirring message, and we retired to the house for dinner and conversation with the pastor and deacons.
Although we did not do much physically during this day, for me, at least, it was about reflection of the week and marveling at all God did. He is rather amazing, and He loves us in spite of what we are, and where we drag Him. Amazing…this God we serve!
Monday, April 19, 2010
Haiti - Day 5
As I start off writing about day five, I realize that several of the aforementioned items and anecdotes are out of sequence. At this point, it doesn’t really matter except that I have noticed it. Another item noticed is the fact there is so much left unsaid, but I know that there is absolutely no way to write everything. So, we come again to day 5.
After breakfast we took it easy. Conversation on the porch happened for sure, and the inevitable visit from the kids took place, but there was no trekking about at this point. After lunch, we became extremely busy. We visited with the local development group and discussed what they wanted our help with, and how we thought we could help them. Water was established as their first priority and we agreed to help them with the water project by finding funds and/or the people to put sustainable drinking water in place. Power was the next item on their list and we made no promises; however, we did let them know that we felt really good about long-term efforts in bringing healthcare professionals to Cayemite, along with veterinarian assistance. They agreed to support this as it would help the entire island. Conversation continued to flow and many other topics were discussed from healthcare education to sanitation and from trade school modules to English as a second language. In the end, we had to rush out…we were meeting with the youth at church.
We literally ran to the church building and started the meeting with the youth. It is rather ironic to understand that even with all of the hindrances, lack of necessities, and calamities that affect other people, in this case the Haitian people…people and their issues are the same. The church had seen an explosion after the earthquake, many of whom were younger. With the influx of younger people, the tastes and preferences changed, and, as a result, there were tensions in leadership about what to do. Ricardo and I had noticed this and had asked to speak to the young people of the church. Ricardo, as always, spoke well, and his words were received. I was asked to speak, but declined until the floor was opened for questions. Ricardo and I answered questions from “How do you find the mate God wants you to have?” to “If I disagree with my pastor, how do I handle it?” Our roles switched as Ricardo answered questions with some humor, while I was rather blunt and to the point. It was an awesome time sharing with the youth of the church.
We then rushed back to the house and took showers and rushed back to the church as it was time for the Friday night service.
It was my last time to preach and I was really looking forward to sharing the sermon. As I stood in the pulpit, I looked over the crowd and it really hit me that they were looking at me with hope and expectancy that I would be back. The question had been posed to me over and over, “Will you come back, here to Cayemite?” I started by saying, “This is the last message I will deliver to you…until I come back.” As Ricardo translated the last phrase, the church roared with joy. I was nearly brought to my knees. What an humbling thing for such an unworthy creature as me. You see now, one reason I have to go back. Blown away by the reaction of those in the church service that night, I preached the rest of the message, and ended with the customary, “I love you, may God bless you.”
After we went home, the pastor came by and Ricardo and I went with him to visit the home of a teenage girl that some were afraid had a problem of demon possession. We went to assess and pray, and after about ten minutes or so of being there, Ricardo asked me what I thought. We both shared the same sentiment. There was a physical malady, but it was no evil spirit. We sent for Dani, and after her arrival, she diagnosed the girl with an iron deficiency. The girl would go to church and then come home short of breath and restless. Turns out, she wasn’t eating enough, and after a night at church with all that transpires there, she would become short of breath. As she lay down for the night, she would be restless and agitated…all symptoms of an iron deficiency. We went back to the house and ate, had extended conversation, and retired for the night. Day 6 was just around the corner.
After breakfast we took it easy. Conversation on the porch happened for sure, and the inevitable visit from the kids took place, but there was no trekking about at this point. After lunch, we became extremely busy. We visited with the local development group and discussed what they wanted our help with, and how we thought we could help them. Water was established as their first priority and we agreed to help them with the water project by finding funds and/or the people to put sustainable drinking water in place. Power was the next item on their list and we made no promises; however, we did let them know that we felt really good about long-term efforts in bringing healthcare professionals to Cayemite, along with veterinarian assistance. They agreed to support this as it would help the entire island. Conversation continued to flow and many other topics were discussed from healthcare education to sanitation and from trade school modules to English as a second language. In the end, we had to rush out…we were meeting with the youth at church.
We literally ran to the church building and started the meeting with the youth. It is rather ironic to understand that even with all of the hindrances, lack of necessities, and calamities that affect other people, in this case the Haitian people…people and their issues are the same. The church had seen an explosion after the earthquake, many of whom were younger. With the influx of younger people, the tastes and preferences changed, and, as a result, there were tensions in leadership about what to do. Ricardo and I had noticed this and had asked to speak to the young people of the church. Ricardo, as always, spoke well, and his words were received. I was asked to speak, but declined until the floor was opened for questions. Ricardo and I answered questions from “How do you find the mate God wants you to have?” to “If I disagree with my pastor, how do I handle it?” Our roles switched as Ricardo answered questions with some humor, while I was rather blunt and to the point. It was an awesome time sharing with the youth of the church.
We then rushed back to the house and took showers and rushed back to the church as it was time for the Friday night service.
It was my last time to preach and I was really looking forward to sharing the sermon. As I stood in the pulpit, I looked over the crowd and it really hit me that they were looking at me with hope and expectancy that I would be back. The question had been posed to me over and over, “Will you come back, here to Cayemite?” I started by saying, “This is the last message I will deliver to you…until I come back.” As Ricardo translated the last phrase, the church roared with joy. I was nearly brought to my knees. What an humbling thing for such an unworthy creature as me. You see now, one reason I have to go back. Blown away by the reaction of those in the church service that night, I preached the rest of the message, and ended with the customary, “I love you, may God bless you.”
After we went home, the pastor came by and Ricardo and I went with him to visit the home of a teenage girl that some were afraid had a problem of demon possession. We went to assess and pray, and after about ten minutes or so of being there, Ricardo asked me what I thought. We both shared the same sentiment. There was a physical malady, but it was no evil spirit. We sent for Dani, and after her arrival, she diagnosed the girl with an iron deficiency. The girl would go to church and then come home short of breath and restless. Turns out, she wasn’t eating enough, and after a night at church with all that transpires there, she would become short of breath. As she lay down for the night, she would be restless and agitated…all symptoms of an iron deficiency. We went back to the house and ate, had extended conversation, and retired for the night. Day 6 was just around the corner.
Tuesday, April 13, 2010
Haiti Day 4
I have forgotten to mention several things, I am sure, but I did want to let you know how the showers work on the island of Cayemite. Having a little better accommodations than most, we had a separate place to take showers. The water for the showers was retrieved form the water source about ¾ of a mile away, and placed in a 50 gallon drum. Water treatment tablets were added, although they were not the kind that made it drinkable, and then the water was placed back into a 5 gallon bucket. You could then use the provided cup to pour the water in any place you desire in order to clean the grime off your body. That is how the shower works in Cayemite. That being said, it was on this day that Ricardo had the bright idea to leverage the “white guy card” and mention to our hosts that I would probably like having the water heated. I was then brought into that loop when he mentioned later in the day that I would have heated water for my shower. This way he was able to obtain heated water. Our hosts were informed that Ricardo wanted the heated water for himself and used me to get it, but they continued to heat it anyway, as they were some of the nicest people you could ever hope to stay with. That excerpt aside, Day four was an extremely full day.
After breakfast of fish, goat, and noodles, the five of us, Ricardo, Dani, Jasmine, Charness, and I linked up with the local group of leaders who took us to another town to show us the water source there. We traveled approximately 2 miles, mostly over volcanic rock, to a beautiful place filled with coconut trees and various other planted crops and trees. Set in the middle of this was a hole filled with good water. The kind you did not have to treat to kill the bad stuff in it. Good-to-drink life-sustaining water, Red Cross certified good water. This is the water that the leaders in the town of Anse de Macon (where we were staying) wanted brought to their town. We really had a great time around the water hole as the conversation went from how to get the water to the town, to what Satan said in the garden of Eden. Bizarre, I know, but that is how it went. With coconuts in abundance, a local fellow climbed a couple of trees and dropped or knocked down enough for all of us to have two. Not being a huge coconut fan, I was quite surprised at how refreshing the milk was and the coconut meat is when plucked off the tree.
We went back through the town that had the good water and it was very apparent that the health was better than that of the next town over. The children’s hair was thicker. Their stomachs were not distended. Their color was better. The livestock was even healthier looking. The houses were not so close together, and the free-ranging animals were kept out of the living areas of the town better because there were barriers to keep them away from many of the houses. There was less trash on the ground as well. Interestingly, when the leaders with us were asked if they noticed any of those things, they said, “No, this place is the same as any other place.” The pastor of the church of God located in this town came out to meet us and wished us Godspeed. We also took a look at a generator that had been purchased for electricity. It was in great shape to have been sitting for three years, unused in the same place it had been placed originally.
As we went back to town, I took the lead, since I had the better shoes for walking in that terrain, and I wanted to be by myself for a bit. Still troubling me was the fact that while all of the things I had seen and witnessed were certainly registering, it wasn’t bothering me. They were facts that you just file away, so to speak, and I do not operate that way. I took the time to rationally walk through the journey to this point, including the things that were the glaring “God events” that made it all happen, and while I thought these things through, and prayed about them, I became more at peace with things, although I still did not understand.
As we came back into town, we stopped at a building and went inside. Here was another generator, much larger than the previous one, and it had been used at one time, but hadn’t been in a while. Apparently, it had been purchased and hooked up to a rudimentary electrical system, but it never worked well, and it did not last. It had been several years since it had run as well. We had a little time before lunch, so we decided to continue walking. Nephtalie, a seven yr old cousin of Ricardo’s, was our guide. She took us to the other three water sources behind the town, and after looking at them, we went to the other edge of town and walked quite a ways out. It is simply beautiful country, rugged, and mind-boggling when you’re looking at it trying to figure out how to help. Through conversation we had decided that there were several areas that Cayemite needed help. Good water, electricity, and healthcare were the top three. Understanding our limitations, we decided that our best hope was to assist them in finding funding for water and then electricity – but we could probably get medical teams of various sorts there...if we had a place for them to stay, say with a toilet you could flush by utilizing a handle.
We went back to the house and ate lunch. Ricardo and I ended up on the porch together and I noticed that he was looking extremely bothered. There were tears in his eyes and when I asked him what was wrong, he just said, “There is so much to do, I don’t even know where to start, it’s too much. They need everything.” I forget what I said, it probably wasn’t very eloquent, but we talked for a time and then people started coming by. A little old lady came in complaining that she was dizzy, tired and was hurting all over. After we questioned her, it was determined that she needed to eat. So we fed her and she felt better. A couple of kids fell and scraped themselves up, so we put some medicine on their cuts and scrapes and sent them on their way. Several older boys came by and asked questions of me for a time, and then the younger ones stopped in to sit with me.
Ricardo had been asked to speak to the leadership of the church, so we all went there before the service to speak to them about leadership and what that means to the church as a whole. Ricardo once again did a great job presenting and he then asked me to speak to them, and I did very briefly. As I looked over the group, I was humbled to look in their eyes and faces and see the extreme joy and hope that they had over us being there. What an extraordinary thing to be used by God in that capacity as unworthy as we are. As I told them that I was honored to be there, I broke for a moment with tears because I was so overwhelmed at the graciousness of God. It was then that I realized why we were there. It wasn’t to have mass rallies and enormous amounts of people getting saved, that would have been great, but it was to uplift a church body. It was to remind them of the hope that they have in Christ Jesus, not in man.
The church service that night was ok, and while we were walking home I asked Ricardo how he thought it went. He wanted to know why, and I remarked that there didn’t seem to be a sense of power in the message. I will never forget what he said, “It doesn’t matter what you think. The message touched me and I was translating. It was for somebody there. All you can do is what you are supposed to do. If they missed it – it’s not because of you or me.”
I slept well that night – except for that one rooster with a crowing chord malfunction – and awoke to day five.
After breakfast of fish, goat, and noodles, the five of us, Ricardo, Dani, Jasmine, Charness, and I linked up with the local group of leaders who took us to another town to show us the water source there. We traveled approximately 2 miles, mostly over volcanic rock, to a beautiful place filled with coconut trees and various other planted crops and trees. Set in the middle of this was a hole filled with good water. The kind you did not have to treat to kill the bad stuff in it. Good-to-drink life-sustaining water, Red Cross certified good water. This is the water that the leaders in the town of Anse de Macon (where we were staying) wanted brought to their town. We really had a great time around the water hole as the conversation went from how to get the water to the town, to what Satan said in the garden of Eden. Bizarre, I know, but that is how it went. With coconuts in abundance, a local fellow climbed a couple of trees and dropped or knocked down enough for all of us to have two. Not being a huge coconut fan, I was quite surprised at how refreshing the milk was and the coconut meat is when plucked off the tree.
We went back through the town that had the good water and it was very apparent that the health was better than that of the next town over. The children’s hair was thicker. Their stomachs were not distended. Their color was better. The livestock was even healthier looking. The houses were not so close together, and the free-ranging animals were kept out of the living areas of the town better because there were barriers to keep them away from many of the houses. There was less trash on the ground as well. Interestingly, when the leaders with us were asked if they noticed any of those things, they said, “No, this place is the same as any other place.” The pastor of the church of God located in this town came out to meet us and wished us Godspeed. We also took a look at a generator that had been purchased for electricity. It was in great shape to have been sitting for three years, unused in the same place it had been placed originally.
As we went back to town, I took the lead, since I had the better shoes for walking in that terrain, and I wanted to be by myself for a bit. Still troubling me was the fact that while all of the things I had seen and witnessed were certainly registering, it wasn’t bothering me. They were facts that you just file away, so to speak, and I do not operate that way. I took the time to rationally walk through the journey to this point, including the things that were the glaring “God events” that made it all happen, and while I thought these things through, and prayed about them, I became more at peace with things, although I still did not understand.
As we came back into town, we stopped at a building and went inside. Here was another generator, much larger than the previous one, and it had been used at one time, but hadn’t been in a while. Apparently, it had been purchased and hooked up to a rudimentary electrical system, but it never worked well, and it did not last. It had been several years since it had run as well. We had a little time before lunch, so we decided to continue walking. Nephtalie, a seven yr old cousin of Ricardo’s, was our guide. She took us to the other three water sources behind the town, and after looking at them, we went to the other edge of town and walked quite a ways out. It is simply beautiful country, rugged, and mind-boggling when you’re looking at it trying to figure out how to help. Through conversation we had decided that there were several areas that Cayemite needed help. Good water, electricity, and healthcare were the top three. Understanding our limitations, we decided that our best hope was to assist them in finding funding for water and then electricity – but we could probably get medical teams of various sorts there...if we had a place for them to stay, say with a toilet you could flush by utilizing a handle.
We went back to the house and ate lunch. Ricardo and I ended up on the porch together and I noticed that he was looking extremely bothered. There were tears in his eyes and when I asked him what was wrong, he just said, “There is so much to do, I don’t even know where to start, it’s too much. They need everything.” I forget what I said, it probably wasn’t very eloquent, but we talked for a time and then people started coming by. A little old lady came in complaining that she was dizzy, tired and was hurting all over. After we questioned her, it was determined that she needed to eat. So we fed her and she felt better. A couple of kids fell and scraped themselves up, so we put some medicine on their cuts and scrapes and sent them on their way. Several older boys came by and asked questions of me for a time, and then the younger ones stopped in to sit with me.
Ricardo had been asked to speak to the leadership of the church, so we all went there before the service to speak to them about leadership and what that means to the church as a whole. Ricardo once again did a great job presenting and he then asked me to speak to them, and I did very briefly. As I looked over the group, I was humbled to look in their eyes and faces and see the extreme joy and hope that they had over us being there. What an extraordinary thing to be used by God in that capacity as unworthy as we are. As I told them that I was honored to be there, I broke for a moment with tears because I was so overwhelmed at the graciousness of God. It was then that I realized why we were there. It wasn’t to have mass rallies and enormous amounts of people getting saved, that would have been great, but it was to uplift a church body. It was to remind them of the hope that they have in Christ Jesus, not in man.
The church service that night was ok, and while we were walking home I asked Ricardo how he thought it went. He wanted to know why, and I remarked that there didn’t seem to be a sense of power in the message. I will never forget what he said, “It doesn’t matter what you think. The message touched me and I was translating. It was for somebody there. All you can do is what you are supposed to do. If they missed it – it’s not because of you or me.”
I slept well that night – except for that one rooster with a crowing chord malfunction – and awoke to day five.
Sunday, April 11, 2010
Haiti Day 3
I must say that the most exciting part of day 2 was left out, but it ties together better as part of day 3 so here we go. After Ricardo and Dani got back from the church service, there was quite a commotion around the house next door. A small child had gone into a seizure and would not come out of it. The knowledge that we had brought meds with us and that Dani was a nurse had spread rather quickly around the town, so they rushed over for assistance. Ricardo and Dani went over to the house, and learned that there was actually a nurse on the island, so they went to the nurse’s residence/clinic for meds that we did not have. Jasmine grabbed me and we went over to see what we could do. By the time we got there, everyone was upset and the baby’s mother was almost in a panic. Ricardo was holding the baby and Dani was pleading with the nurse to open the door. Turns out, the nurse was placed there by the government, but she had not been paid in over 2 years, so she did not open after dark, in fact, she did very little for anyone at anytime. I knelt and prayed for the baby, the situation, and after ten minutes, Jasmine, who had been watching and listening, motioned that everything was alright, so we went back to the house we were staying in. God is so good. He answered prayers for sure that night. The situation brought several things to light, however. Two other babies had died earlier with the same symptoms, one had died only 15 days prior to us getting there …a seizure brought on by fever that they would not come out of, and the local nurse would do very little or nothing to help. A little aspirin can do wonders in this situation. This was rather eye-opening. The next morning (Day 3) we woke to find that little girl walking around as if nothing had taken place at all.
After breakfast, we were in for a hike to the local water source. The trail was about ¾ of a mile uphill and across coral and lava rock. The locals utilized this water even though it was bad and not fit to drink. On the way, we passed pools of water that were being used to wash clothes, and also used by the local animals to forage for food amongst the trash, debris, and algae growth. Pigs and goats were defecating in the same water that people were cleaning their clothes in…enough said about that. With all of the trash, one would think there was nothing beautiful about this place at all, but its ruggedness was beautiful in and of itself. As I looked across the bay to the mainland of Haiti and saw the mountains rise in the background, it reminded me that God places beauty in places we wouldn’t – because He is God and we are not…thanks to Him. When we let Him work, He will make the beauty that is His shine from the worst of individuals, like us.
On an extremely personal note – It was on this trip to the water and on the way back that I became quite troubled over a couple of things. One, of course, is the lack of education that allowed people to live this way and not know any better…but to me, the most troubling thing at this point was that I felt very little emotion about the things I had seen so far into this journey. Those of you that know me know that I am a very emotional fellow, and we had driven through Port-au-Prince and seen all of the devastation there. We had driven to the epicenter of the quake and seen the devastation there. I was now looking at filth everywhere and I was not reacting the way I had assumed that I would, and it troubled me…I left it at that until late afternoon. It was now Wednesday, and I had to prepare to bring the message that night to the local church. I was a little nervous, but Ricardo was way more nervous than me as he was interpreting, and it was his first time in this capacity.
Being the week prior to Resurrection Sunday, we thought it appropriate to bring messages based on the cross. At the church that Christy and I are currently attending and assisting, Pastor Ken Haag is the interim/transitional pastor there and has brought a series of messages on the words that Jesus spoke from the cross. They have been magnificent, and he was very generous to me and gave me all of his notes on this sermon series. What a blessing to have those sermons in front of me at each service. It worked out great. I was able to deliver the words God wanted me to deliver, while Ricardo translated and we did not have to focus so much on the translating part…it just worked out, kind of like God had for seen what was to happen and prepared things in advance to handle the situation. He is so good. Because I had those sermons, I spent some time reading over them, changing them a bit to fit my personality and I prayed…mainly about why I was so unemotional and was something wrong, it really was bothering me.
After a lunch of conch, fish, and beans and rice, I retired to the porch where through Dani translating, I was grilled and interviewed by Cedesse, Charness’s brother. He asked about 100 questions ranging from “Do you know any other Haitians at home?” to “Are you planning on coming back to Cayemite?” While he was doing that several other young men from the area stopped in to hear the question and answer session. It was a treat for me and them. I ended up helping Cedesse with his English just as I did Charness on the boat. Before I left for the church service, the littler kids around came by to hang out on the front steps with me, and together we aggravated some of the old women around the house…it was great.
Church services started at 6:00, but we got there around 7:00 because those services are rather lengthy. By the time the singing was over, the place had filled in and was packed with standing room only and people were wrapped around the back and a ¼ of the way around each side. People had walked from the other 2 villages to hear Ricardo and me preach, and I have to say it is a rather humbling thing when you compare the desire to hear the word of God in a place like that to the desire here in the states when we have so much, and many times sacrifice so little. Ricardo was tasked with the duty of presenting me to the church, and as I spoke and he became comfortable with translating, things went really well. I know there were prayers surrounding us as the church was uplifted through the words from the cross.
We left the church completely drained and sat down to a nice meal. The pastor from the church, Pastor Micah, ate with us, and we retired to our quarters.
We woke up to day 4.
After breakfast, we were in for a hike to the local water source. The trail was about ¾ of a mile uphill and across coral and lava rock. The locals utilized this water even though it was bad and not fit to drink. On the way, we passed pools of water that were being used to wash clothes, and also used by the local animals to forage for food amongst the trash, debris, and algae growth. Pigs and goats were defecating in the same water that people were cleaning their clothes in…enough said about that. With all of the trash, one would think there was nothing beautiful about this place at all, but its ruggedness was beautiful in and of itself. As I looked across the bay to the mainland of Haiti and saw the mountains rise in the background, it reminded me that God places beauty in places we wouldn’t – because He is God and we are not…thanks to Him. When we let Him work, He will make the beauty that is His shine from the worst of individuals, like us.
On an extremely personal note – It was on this trip to the water and on the way back that I became quite troubled over a couple of things. One, of course, is the lack of education that allowed people to live this way and not know any better…but to me, the most troubling thing at this point was that I felt very little emotion about the things I had seen so far into this journey. Those of you that know me know that I am a very emotional fellow, and we had driven through Port-au-Prince and seen all of the devastation there. We had driven to the epicenter of the quake and seen the devastation there. I was now looking at filth everywhere and I was not reacting the way I had assumed that I would, and it troubled me…I left it at that until late afternoon. It was now Wednesday, and I had to prepare to bring the message that night to the local church. I was a little nervous, but Ricardo was way more nervous than me as he was interpreting, and it was his first time in this capacity.
Being the week prior to Resurrection Sunday, we thought it appropriate to bring messages based on the cross. At the church that Christy and I are currently attending and assisting, Pastor Ken Haag is the interim/transitional pastor there and has brought a series of messages on the words that Jesus spoke from the cross. They have been magnificent, and he was very generous to me and gave me all of his notes on this sermon series. What a blessing to have those sermons in front of me at each service. It worked out great. I was able to deliver the words God wanted me to deliver, while Ricardo translated and we did not have to focus so much on the translating part…it just worked out, kind of like God had for seen what was to happen and prepared things in advance to handle the situation. He is so good. Because I had those sermons, I spent some time reading over them, changing them a bit to fit my personality and I prayed…mainly about why I was so unemotional and was something wrong, it really was bothering me.
After a lunch of conch, fish, and beans and rice, I retired to the porch where through Dani translating, I was grilled and interviewed by Cedesse, Charness’s brother. He asked about 100 questions ranging from “Do you know any other Haitians at home?” to “Are you planning on coming back to Cayemite?” While he was doing that several other young men from the area stopped in to hear the question and answer session. It was a treat for me and them. I ended up helping Cedesse with his English just as I did Charness on the boat. Before I left for the church service, the littler kids around came by to hang out on the front steps with me, and together we aggravated some of the old women around the house…it was great.
Church services started at 6:00, but we got there around 7:00 because those services are rather lengthy. By the time the singing was over, the place had filled in and was packed with standing room only and people were wrapped around the back and a ¼ of the way around each side. People had walked from the other 2 villages to hear Ricardo and me preach, and I have to say it is a rather humbling thing when you compare the desire to hear the word of God in a place like that to the desire here in the states when we have so much, and many times sacrifice so little. Ricardo was tasked with the duty of presenting me to the church, and as I spoke and he became comfortable with translating, things went really well. I know there were prayers surrounding us as the church was uplifted through the words from the cross.
We left the church completely drained and sat down to a nice meal. The pastor from the church, Pastor Micah, ate with us, and we retired to our quarters.
We woke up to day 4.
Saturday, April 10, 2010
Haiti - Day 2
So we awoke and went to breakfast that Pastor Adrienne had prepared for us. A little different, spaghetti noodles with ketchup were the main course. I was to find out that this was the norm throughout our stay in Haiti. As we were eating, the good people at the mission picked up our bedding and rearranged the tent, and upon further inspection, it was filled with school children. Ricardo and I promptly interrupted class to take a couple of pictures, since this school was a private, mission run school and we had just slept on the ground there. It was a fine example of Haitian versatility and adaptability. Because of this small example, I was struck with the notion that we, you and me, could learn a little more flexibility with things that come our way. We loaded the truck to head out and we were able to take some of the Mennonite canned goods with us on the insistence of Pastor Adrienne. What a blessing that turned out to be. Before we left, I was able to speak with some of the Mennonites who were there, and I learned that they were building hurricane, earthquake-proof shelters for around $900 a piece, and were able to build one a day. It is amazing at how God utilizes the entire Church when members of the Church are willing.
We then departed for the Port of Miragaone, and arrived to another chaotic scene upon parking. Fortunately, I had all of my gear in a backpack, so transporting my stuff was a bit easier than everyone else’s. We hired a local guy to place the rest of the luggage into a wheelbarrow and we walked down to the port area. My first step into the street resulted in me sinking to my ankle in pasty grey mud that stunk of waste water. The ole Birk’s needed quite a cleaning later. What a scene. Much like the airport luggage scene, we bumped and jostled, looked and moved people out of the way to get where we needed to be. Finally, we found our boat and to our surprise, some people from Cayemite had come over to assist and be with us as we crossed the water to the island. Auntie Amen and Madame Dani were on hand to greet us and assist as we got into the boat and after 2 hours of waiting for everything to get loaded, we departed to our destination with a boat full of cargo, weighting it down ‘till the water was halfway up the sides, 52 passengers and crew, using one mainsail and one 40 HP Yamaha motor…needless to say, that 6 hour trip took almost 9 hours.
The boat ride was rather eventful, in my opinion. We passed by beautiful rock cliffs that screamed of pirates. We stopped at 3 different villages to drop supplies and/or passengers and the local people would paddle out in dug-out canoes to receive their cargo. I sat between Charness, Ricardo, and a young lady the entire ride and using a Haitian-Creole/English pocket dictionary and phrasebook, I began helping Charness with his English, as he helped me with my Creole. He learned a lot quicker than me, I must say. Through Ricardo, I learned that the young lady next to me had survived the earthquake while sustaining a split forehead and broken teeth. She inspired me throughout the boat ride as she sang or hummed hymns in Creole the entire boat ride. When she stopped, I asked her to keep on…she did so with a big smile. Conversations lasted throughout the ride and many wanted to know what I was doing going to Cayemite. Listening to the flow and ebb of conversations proved to be fascinating to me as Haitians speak very excitedly and many times very loud. When we could we handed out water and food to others on the boat, and we had to continuously check on an old man who was suffering through the baking sun.
Of the many interesting things that took place on the boat, one that really stood out was when a lady in front of me had to use the restroom and squatted over the side, dropped trou’, and proceeded to drop more than that into the ocean depths. None got on me, but I was really blessed to have been downwind from the proceedings…sorta’. The engine died about 18 times, and the boat captain would get it running after 20minutes or so, and off we would go again. I really was never so glad to get off a boat in my life. Nine hours in the sun was rather exhausting.
Upon arrival at Cayemite and the town of Anse de Macon, we loaded our things into a dugout, and were swiftly dropped off at Auntie Amen’s house where we would stay the week. I had not given it much thought, but a white guy on this particular island was quite the novelty, so there were many people staring, and the kids were either fascinated or scared. I kept hearing muted but excited “blanc” from the children, which means white. This I would hear the entire stay.
Ricardo was mobbed with family and friends that had heard of him coming, many of whom were rather incredulous that he was actually there. After a 20+ year absence, Ricardo was home. I had more important things to do, like check the facilities, so I found my way there and utilized the one foot by one foot square hole that dropped waste into the ocean in front of the town. That’s right – one minute later, I exited said facilities and resumed being introduced as Ricardo’s friend and a Haitian that was white instead of black. What can I say? It’s true…
We were given a wonderful meal of spaghetti noodles and ketchup, fried fish, and red beans and rice, and Ricardo head off to the church building where he was surprised with the opportunity to preach, and upon returning to the house, we slept, until the goats and roosters woke us at 5:00 a.m.
Day 3 is next
We then departed for the Port of Miragaone, and arrived to another chaotic scene upon parking. Fortunately, I had all of my gear in a backpack, so transporting my stuff was a bit easier than everyone else’s. We hired a local guy to place the rest of the luggage into a wheelbarrow and we walked down to the port area. My first step into the street resulted in me sinking to my ankle in pasty grey mud that stunk of waste water. The ole Birk’s needed quite a cleaning later. What a scene. Much like the airport luggage scene, we bumped and jostled, looked and moved people out of the way to get where we needed to be. Finally, we found our boat and to our surprise, some people from Cayemite had come over to assist and be with us as we crossed the water to the island. Auntie Amen and Madame Dani were on hand to greet us and assist as we got into the boat and after 2 hours of waiting for everything to get loaded, we departed to our destination with a boat full of cargo, weighting it down ‘till the water was halfway up the sides, 52 passengers and crew, using one mainsail and one 40 HP Yamaha motor…needless to say, that 6 hour trip took almost 9 hours.
The boat ride was rather eventful, in my opinion. We passed by beautiful rock cliffs that screamed of pirates. We stopped at 3 different villages to drop supplies and/or passengers and the local people would paddle out in dug-out canoes to receive their cargo. I sat between Charness, Ricardo, and a young lady the entire ride and using a Haitian-Creole/English pocket dictionary and phrasebook, I began helping Charness with his English, as he helped me with my Creole. He learned a lot quicker than me, I must say. Through Ricardo, I learned that the young lady next to me had survived the earthquake while sustaining a split forehead and broken teeth. She inspired me throughout the boat ride as she sang or hummed hymns in Creole the entire boat ride. When she stopped, I asked her to keep on…she did so with a big smile. Conversations lasted throughout the ride and many wanted to know what I was doing going to Cayemite. Listening to the flow and ebb of conversations proved to be fascinating to me as Haitians speak very excitedly and many times very loud. When we could we handed out water and food to others on the boat, and we had to continuously check on an old man who was suffering through the baking sun.
Of the many interesting things that took place on the boat, one that really stood out was when a lady in front of me had to use the restroom and squatted over the side, dropped trou’, and proceeded to drop more than that into the ocean depths. None got on me, but I was really blessed to have been downwind from the proceedings…sorta’. The engine died about 18 times, and the boat captain would get it running after 20minutes or so, and off we would go again. I really was never so glad to get off a boat in my life. Nine hours in the sun was rather exhausting.
Upon arrival at Cayemite and the town of Anse de Macon, we loaded our things into a dugout, and were swiftly dropped off at Auntie Amen’s house where we would stay the week. I had not given it much thought, but a white guy on this particular island was quite the novelty, so there were many people staring, and the kids were either fascinated or scared. I kept hearing muted but excited “blanc” from the children, which means white. This I would hear the entire stay.
Ricardo was mobbed with family and friends that had heard of him coming, many of whom were rather incredulous that he was actually there. After a 20+ year absence, Ricardo was home. I had more important things to do, like check the facilities, so I found my way there and utilized the one foot by one foot square hole that dropped waste into the ocean in front of the town. That’s right – one minute later, I exited said facilities and resumed being introduced as Ricardo’s friend and a Haitian that was white instead of black. What can I say? It’s true…
We were given a wonderful meal of spaghetti noodles and ketchup, fried fish, and red beans and rice, and Ricardo head off to the church building where he was surprised with the opportunity to preach, and upon returning to the house, we slept, until the goats and roosters woke us at 5:00 a.m.
Day 3 is next
Friday, April 9, 2010
Haiti - Day 1
Day one started as I headed towards an international flight from Atlanta’s Hartsfield-Jackson Airport with a connection in Miami where I would link up with Ricardo and Dani. Too early…0330 in the morning too early, but as I slogged to the door, I was full of the Hope that rests not in our own strength, but in the strength of One who had been through it all. The flight to Miami was perfect, although there was an extremely hard landing, and I linked up with Ricardo and Dani quickly upon arrival at the appropriate terminal. After a quick hour and a half we boarded our flight to Port-au-Prince and the excitement mounted as we exited the aircraft.
For those of you that have traveled before to third world countries the next sequence of events may be normal, so bear with it…but you just need to know, Haitians are loud, and can be rather boisterous. When you add the mayhem of an airport that was partially destroyed, and makeshift arrangements at baggage claim, it was absolute bedlam. For the next hour we fought and jostled to get our luggage, and as one can surmise, one bag did not make it. Either it never made the flight, or it was taken by mistake. The little lady at the lost luggage line advised us to wait on the next flight that was due in a couple of hours. So, we walked outside where there were large iron gates with many people yelling and shouting stuff – because I know very little Haitian Creole – and we were picked up by a cousin of Dani’s named Jeremy. Great guy, knew a little English, and drove like a NASCAR driver on speed with one hand on the steering wheel, the other on the horn, and an absolute disregard for anything resembling the laws of the road or the human body. It was great! Thinking they were pulling a fast one, Ricardo and Dani had me sit in the front to witness the spectacle of driving in downtown Port-au-Prince – they had a lot to learn as I drive in the ATL and have been known to be quite the madman myself with any vehicle, particularly an ATV. Again, it was awesome!
Despite the near misses, hits, smashed vehicles, pedestrians, and crushed motorcycles there was plenty of time to look around as we drove through the city. The very first thing I noticed was the enormous tent cities that we have all heard about via T.V., internet, and radio. They are massive and at least one takes up an entire park with as many people living in it as there are in many towns and other cities in Haiti. After 20 minutes, we arrived at the home of Dani’s aunt and uncle where there was a joyous reuniting of family, and as others heard that we were there, more and more family members trickled in to give hugs and regards. I was introduced to many people that day whose names I will never remember, but their joy was unmistakable at seeing a family member after a long absence, and one who was willing to come back to help in any way possible.
There were a lot of kids there, and they gathered in the area around the house to take a look at me, so, I pulled out a soccer ball, pumped it up, and gave it to one. Aha! Instant celebrity - the kid with the ball, not me. He was now the king and the other kids were full of grins as they all took time to play around with the ball while including me. After a couple of hours, approximately 50 introductions, and a million hugs and handshakes, we were off to the luggage claim to reclaim my lost bag. Unfortunately, the plane was late, and when it got there, the bag was not on it…so we had to go on without it. This was probably the only time frame that was honored while in Haiti.
Upon leaving the airport, we drove through the city and looked at the devastation brought about by the earthquake. In a word – un-freaking-believable. We saw enormous buildings, schools, embassies, and so much more that were nothing but piles of rubble, some still containing the bodies of the dead. Piles of rock, block, and debris lined the streets as traffic moved at breakneck speed around it. Water poured down the street, in many places it was ripe with the smell of untreated sewage. People would scoop it up and wash vehicles or hands. Life, such as it is, kept on going in the midst of ruin. I could not stop looking at the horror in order to take pictures, and if I had, I am not sure I would have been able to soak in what I was seeing. As it is, I can not adequately describe what I saw. Pictures can not do it any better.
We picked up Jasmine, a cousin of Dani’s, and Charness, a cousin of Ricardo’s, and we started out of town headed for the Port of Miragoane where we would load our gear in a boat the following day and travel to the island of Cayemite. Many times we would have to almost completely come to a stop in order to navigate a road that looked as if two giant hands had grabbed the road and twisted it the way you do a mop. The devastation 30 miles outside Port-au-prince was worse than inside the city. There are cities that took 90% destruction with nothing usable left. Just before getting to the port of the city, we stopped at a mission for the night. Pastor Adrienne ran the mission where he lived and operated a school. There was housing for missionaries, and it was a funnel to help churches and maneuver supplies around Haiti. We were fed a supper of spaghetti noodles with ketchup, some mystery meat, we later learned was beef canned by the Mennonites and sent for relief efforts, and we retired to our quarters for the night. While we were eating, mattresses had been laid on the ground for us outside in a tent-like structure made of tarps as a roof and woven mats for the sides. The house we were going to stay in had been damaged by the earthquake and was unsafe. The other quarters were taken by Mennonite missionaries that were there building housing for displaced survivors. We slept outside with vehicles streaming up and down the highway all night, and awoke to the roosters crowing in our ears.
Day two was upon us bearing much promise.
For those of you that have traveled before to third world countries the next sequence of events may be normal, so bear with it…but you just need to know, Haitians are loud, and can be rather boisterous. When you add the mayhem of an airport that was partially destroyed, and makeshift arrangements at baggage claim, it was absolute bedlam. For the next hour we fought and jostled to get our luggage, and as one can surmise, one bag did not make it. Either it never made the flight, or it was taken by mistake. The little lady at the lost luggage line advised us to wait on the next flight that was due in a couple of hours. So, we walked outside where there were large iron gates with many people yelling and shouting stuff – because I know very little Haitian Creole – and we were picked up by a cousin of Dani’s named Jeremy. Great guy, knew a little English, and drove like a NASCAR driver on speed with one hand on the steering wheel, the other on the horn, and an absolute disregard for anything resembling the laws of the road or the human body. It was great! Thinking they were pulling a fast one, Ricardo and Dani had me sit in the front to witness the spectacle of driving in downtown Port-au-Prince – they had a lot to learn as I drive in the ATL and have been known to be quite the madman myself with any vehicle, particularly an ATV. Again, it was awesome!
Despite the near misses, hits, smashed vehicles, pedestrians, and crushed motorcycles there was plenty of time to look around as we drove through the city. The very first thing I noticed was the enormous tent cities that we have all heard about via T.V., internet, and radio. They are massive and at least one takes up an entire park with as many people living in it as there are in many towns and other cities in Haiti. After 20 minutes, we arrived at the home of Dani’s aunt and uncle where there was a joyous reuniting of family, and as others heard that we were there, more and more family members trickled in to give hugs and regards. I was introduced to many people that day whose names I will never remember, but their joy was unmistakable at seeing a family member after a long absence, and one who was willing to come back to help in any way possible.
There were a lot of kids there, and they gathered in the area around the house to take a look at me, so, I pulled out a soccer ball, pumped it up, and gave it to one. Aha! Instant celebrity - the kid with the ball, not me. He was now the king and the other kids were full of grins as they all took time to play around with the ball while including me. After a couple of hours, approximately 50 introductions, and a million hugs and handshakes, we were off to the luggage claim to reclaim my lost bag. Unfortunately, the plane was late, and when it got there, the bag was not on it…so we had to go on without it. This was probably the only time frame that was honored while in Haiti.
Upon leaving the airport, we drove through the city and looked at the devastation brought about by the earthquake. In a word – un-freaking-believable. We saw enormous buildings, schools, embassies, and so much more that were nothing but piles of rubble, some still containing the bodies of the dead. Piles of rock, block, and debris lined the streets as traffic moved at breakneck speed around it. Water poured down the street, in many places it was ripe with the smell of untreated sewage. People would scoop it up and wash vehicles or hands. Life, such as it is, kept on going in the midst of ruin. I could not stop looking at the horror in order to take pictures, and if I had, I am not sure I would have been able to soak in what I was seeing. As it is, I can not adequately describe what I saw. Pictures can not do it any better.
We picked up Jasmine, a cousin of Dani’s, and Charness, a cousin of Ricardo’s, and we started out of town headed for the Port of Miragoane where we would load our gear in a boat the following day and travel to the island of Cayemite. Many times we would have to almost completely come to a stop in order to navigate a road that looked as if two giant hands had grabbed the road and twisted it the way you do a mop. The devastation 30 miles outside Port-au-prince was worse than inside the city. There are cities that took 90% destruction with nothing usable left. Just before getting to the port of the city, we stopped at a mission for the night. Pastor Adrienne ran the mission where he lived and operated a school. There was housing for missionaries, and it was a funnel to help churches and maneuver supplies around Haiti. We were fed a supper of spaghetti noodles with ketchup, some mystery meat, we later learned was beef canned by the Mennonites and sent for relief efforts, and we retired to our quarters for the night. While we were eating, mattresses had been laid on the ground for us outside in a tent-like structure made of tarps as a roof and woven mats for the sides. The house we were going to stay in had been damaged by the earthquake and was unsafe. The other quarters were taken by Mennonite missionaries that were there building housing for displaced survivors. We slept outside with vehicles streaming up and down the highway all night, and awoke to the roosters crowing in our ears.
Day two was upon us bearing much promise.
Haiti Preface
I just returned from Haiti. The trip lasted a total of eight days, but the scenes and events will last forever. Pictures and words are not enough to describe all that was seen or that transpired. It was magnificent, heart-breaking, uplifting and humbling. Much of that was simultaneous. I will try to piece together a description of the trip in chronological order.
This trip really starts in January of 2008. I had just enrolled in school after a 15+ year hiatus. Believing that I had been called to go into “the ministry”, I had enrolled at Luther Rice College and Seminary located in Lithonia, GA. I had just walked into my very first class, called Pastoral Work, and a fellow student named Ricardo Theodore walked in. There was an instant connection. I found out he was from Haiti, and was a pastor of a Haitian church south of Atlanta that was looking for a place to rent. They eventually located in McDonough. Ricardo tells me, as I do not remember, that he was going to take me to Haiti with him when he went back. We had a several more classes together and we talked often. Until the events of January 12, when the earthquake struck, we had not spoken in several months.
After the earthquake took place, I had a desire to go, but fearing it was just an emotional reaction, I did nothing for a week, until I realized the desire was growing rather than waning…so I called Ricardo. I asked him how he was and he said, “Not good, brother, I just got off the phone, we lost a church member who was visiting family in Port-au-Prince, and we are waiting on word from my wife’s family.” He was broken, and I told him then that I wanted to help, to do something- including going if necessary…he told me we would speak the following week as things were very hectic. Upon the second phone call he told me that he was definitely going, and gave me the week. Immediately I responded that I would go with him. He was so overjoyed that I was crying at his gratefulness before I hung up the phone. What an humbling thing, to realize that someone could be so thankful over a willingness to help, and we become so angry so often at the slightest inconvenience. We/I should take more time and be truly grateful for things such as friendship, comfort, and life.
Unsure as to how my wife would respond, I told her that I was going with Ricardo and his wife to Haiti. In her typical fashion she said, “OK”, and so it was settled. The three of us Ricardo, his wife, Dani, and me were going to Haiti to check on family, travel to the home island of Ricardo, Cayemite, in order to assess for long-term future needs, and preach and share the gospel while uplifting the Church. I can honestly say that we accomplished the things we set out to do through the power of God and His grace.
What started happening next was amazing. Obviously, there was a lot of prayer involved in the decision to go, and a lot of discussion and thought, but when I received a phone call from a member of the Methodist church in Flovilla, Ga explaining that they had heard of my trip and had taken an offering just for the trip, I was floored. This church, in a town of 631 who had 6-8 regular attendees, wanted to know what to do with the money collected. Again, I was in tears before I put the phone down. Another lady in Flovilla had also heard about the trip and asked where to give, and a Sunday School class at Flovilla Baptist chipped in some money. Adgateville Baptist Church in Hillsboro, GA took up a special offering for the trip. A high school friend I have seen only twice since 1987 donated money towards the trip, and all of these funds were used to purchase antibiotics to take, or for on-the-ground additional travel expenses. Assistance came from others as some also donated funds, a local doctor in Butts County assisted with information and a local pharmacy assisted with discounted or donated items. Some volunteered to pray constantly before and during the trip over specific requests and the power of those prayers was apparent throughout the trip. Obviously, this trip was the work of more than just one person’s desire – apparently, the Creator also wanted this trip to take place, and for that, I am eternally grateful.
Next post - day one
This trip really starts in January of 2008. I had just enrolled in school after a 15+ year hiatus. Believing that I had been called to go into “the ministry”, I had enrolled at Luther Rice College and Seminary located in Lithonia, GA. I had just walked into my very first class, called Pastoral Work, and a fellow student named Ricardo Theodore walked in. There was an instant connection. I found out he was from Haiti, and was a pastor of a Haitian church south of Atlanta that was looking for a place to rent. They eventually located in McDonough. Ricardo tells me, as I do not remember, that he was going to take me to Haiti with him when he went back. We had a several more classes together and we talked often. Until the events of January 12, when the earthquake struck, we had not spoken in several months.
After the earthquake took place, I had a desire to go, but fearing it was just an emotional reaction, I did nothing for a week, until I realized the desire was growing rather than waning…so I called Ricardo. I asked him how he was and he said, “Not good, brother, I just got off the phone, we lost a church member who was visiting family in Port-au-Prince, and we are waiting on word from my wife’s family.” He was broken, and I told him then that I wanted to help, to do something- including going if necessary…he told me we would speak the following week as things were very hectic. Upon the second phone call he told me that he was definitely going, and gave me the week. Immediately I responded that I would go with him. He was so overjoyed that I was crying at his gratefulness before I hung up the phone. What an humbling thing, to realize that someone could be so thankful over a willingness to help, and we become so angry so often at the slightest inconvenience. We/I should take more time and be truly grateful for things such as friendship, comfort, and life.
Unsure as to how my wife would respond, I told her that I was going with Ricardo and his wife to Haiti. In her typical fashion she said, “OK”, and so it was settled. The three of us Ricardo, his wife, Dani, and me were going to Haiti to check on family, travel to the home island of Ricardo, Cayemite, in order to assess for long-term future needs, and preach and share the gospel while uplifting the Church. I can honestly say that we accomplished the things we set out to do through the power of God and His grace.
What started happening next was amazing. Obviously, there was a lot of prayer involved in the decision to go, and a lot of discussion and thought, but when I received a phone call from a member of the Methodist church in Flovilla, Ga explaining that they had heard of my trip and had taken an offering just for the trip, I was floored. This church, in a town of 631 who had 6-8 regular attendees, wanted to know what to do with the money collected. Again, I was in tears before I put the phone down. Another lady in Flovilla had also heard about the trip and asked where to give, and a Sunday School class at Flovilla Baptist chipped in some money. Adgateville Baptist Church in Hillsboro, GA took up a special offering for the trip. A high school friend I have seen only twice since 1987 donated money towards the trip, and all of these funds were used to purchase antibiotics to take, or for on-the-ground additional travel expenses. Assistance came from others as some also donated funds, a local doctor in Butts County assisted with information and a local pharmacy assisted with discounted or donated items. Some volunteered to pray constantly before and during the trip over specific requests and the power of those prayers was apparent throughout the trip. Obviously, this trip was the work of more than just one person’s desire – apparently, the Creator also wanted this trip to take place, and for that, I am eternally grateful.
Next post - day one
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