Gason mwen Sandley (My son Sandley)

Hello, my friends. I would like to take some time to talk to you about my relationship with my son, Sandley. First off, a little background, for those who don’t know me well or haven’t heard this before. I have always had a strange, irrational fear of small children. Now please don’t get me wrong, its not that I don’t like or love them, but small kids have always just caused me to panic. I’m not really sure what or why I have this reaction; I have a theory that’s it has something to do with the fact that I have always been really overweight, and I was always afraid that I would accidentally step on and hurt a little one. Not sure if this is the reason or not, but it’s the only thing that I can think of to explain my reaction to small children.

Upon answering God’s call for my life to serve in Haiti at NWHCM, I knew my life would be changed in ways that I could only imagine. But I have to be honest, I wasn’t prepared for Sandley.

My first Sunday in Haiti, I sat outside of Church with Stephanie Mosier and Heather Meyer, the 2 amazing ladies that run the Miriam Center, the special needs orphanage here. I tried to explain my calling to Haiti to them; that I was here to help fix what they needed so they could focus more on their ministry, and not worry about the small stuff. I told them how much I admired what they were doing and that I would help out however I could, but I did warn them about my fear of children.

A few days later, we were all hanging out in our staff lounge at the end of the day, when Stephanie came in carrying the smallest, most awkward little child I had ever seen. His little back was arched into a painful backwards C shape. His were so thin you could see every bone through his skin. He had bulging arm muscles, and his fists were clenched as if he was ready for a fight. Huge brown eyes filled his tiny, mostly bald head, and he had a perpetually grumpy look on his face, which only got worse when he cried. As we sat talking, Stephanie said she forgot something downstairs, laid Sandley in my lap, and headed for the door. As I fumbled with the little guy, not really knowing how to hold him, he looked at me and started to wail (honestly, I felt like doing the same thing.) But as we sat there, we both calmed down and Sandley slowly started clutching my arm as I held him. That was all it took. Stephanie came back and took Sandley back, but it was too late, he had his hooks in me.

Throughout the next week or so I made excuses to visit Sandley down in the Miriam Center, and to ask the ladies about his story. Sandley came to the Miriam Center with Heather, when she moved from the orphanage she worked with close to the Dominican Republic (For more of Sandley’s back story, check out Heather’s blog at: www.heathermmeyer.blogspot.com) about 2 weeks before I moved to Haiti. I don’t know why, but that seemed to cement our bond even more, we were both in a strange new place alone. As I began to spend more time with Sandley, both Stephanie and Heather were very patient with my constant asking of questions, as far as how to hold and care for him. They were very kind to help me learn how to provide the support he needed, to feed and burp him, and eventually to even change his diapers!



Sandley & Kem



Sandley very much became my lifeline here in Haiti. No matter how hard a day I had, no matter how frustrated, how hot, how tired, how down I was, a little time with Sandley made things better. He helped me to get my focus back on the things in life that matter. One of my biggest struggles in my time here has been with not really knowing my place here, not really knowing what I was called here for. As I struggled with feelings of inadequacy and just not fitting in, the one thing that was constant was my son, Sandley. Many were the nights when, not able to sleep, I would hear him crying downstairs and I would go and get him and just sit and hold him until the sun came up.



Sandley's 2nd Birthday



When I left for a week in June, I struggled with having to leave Sandley here, and I was really trying not to think about how I would leave for 2 months in November. I knew he would be in very good hands, but still, how could I leave my son? I know adoption here is pretty much not an option, especially for a divorced, 39 year old man. So the next best thing I could think of was to start working on getting a medical visa for Sandley, so that not only could he travel home with me, but I could also seek medical testing and treatment for him while in the states.

On October 25^th, Sandley left his earthly home and went to be with our Father in heaven. He had been a little sick the previous couple days, nothing too serious, just diarrhea. He had been doing better, getting Pedialyte every couple hours, but then passed sometime quietly early that morning. I was upstairs at our morning devotions when my friend Ashley came to get me and said they needed me downstairs. As I walked into the Miriam Center to the small group of people huddled around Sandley’s bed, I can never forget the sight of Stephanie holding him, with tears in her eyes as she told me he had passed. She handed his tiny body to me, which I clutched to my chest as the tears flowed down my face. I’ve lost many loved ones in my life, but this was different. I simply shut down, just standing there holding the body of my son, praying that somehow it was a mistake, that I would feel him take a breath, that I would once again hear his distinctive wail. Ashley and Stephanie invited me into their room, where we could mourn privately, away from the normal hustle and bustle of morning in the Miriam Center. As we sat in the quiet and I slowly stroked Sandley’s head, I tried to regain my composure, to be strong, to push my feelings of pain and loss down, so I wouldn’t have to deal with them. (I know, not very healthy, but it’s what I do.) I tried to focus on what needed to be done; only really allowing myself to cry whenever everyone left the room. (Again, not very healthy.) Luckily for me, as we started talking about plans, contacting Sandley’s mom etc., life here at the mission pulled me away as my phone rang, and I went to fix a couple of things for the surgical team that was here. As I walked around the mission, numbly going from one task to another, I kept hoping that I would wake up, that it was a nightmare, that Sandley wasn’t gone. I would periodically check back in to see what needed to be done for Sandley’s funeral. We wanted to respect his mother’s wishes as best we could as well as honor any Haitian customs.

We had a small funeral service for Sandley that afternoon at the mission. I was able to kiss his little head one last time as I placed him in the tiny coffin, then stood off to the side as the funeral began. There was much prayer and singing, and a short sermon by Pastor John Barnes, a former missionary here at NWHCM and a good friend of mine. Following the service, I was engulfed by hugs and kisses from the Miriam Center staff, as well as many of the other staff from the mission. About 15 of us loaded up into a tap-tap to head to the cemetery, where Sandley was laid to rest in a crypt owned by the mission.

The next few days were very hard. I found myself going down to feed Sandley, forgetting that he’s not there. I would stand upstairs, staring down into the Miriam Center where his bed used to hang. I tried to avoid the Miriam Center and the other children that I have come to know and love, just because it was too hard to hide my pain from them. I tried to stay busy, to keep my mind occupied, but spent a lot of time by myself, hiding, trying to figure out how to go on.

In my mind, I know Sandley is in heaven, happy and healthy. My heart is heavy and broken, though, and I’m not sure how to go on. As much as I am hurting, I have to acknowledge the great gifts and changes in my life that Sandley has inspired. Through my time with Sandley, I have spent a lot of time with the rest of the kids in the Miriam Center, and have come to love all of them. I have grown from being afraid and nervous around them, to caring and loving them more than I could have believed possible.

I have always felt a secret, deep sadness I would never be a father; would never know the joy of being a dad. God has granted me my greatest wish, although not in the way I would have thought. That’s kind of the way He works, though. Sandley was my son, always will be, and even though are time together in this world was short; I know that we’ll be together for eternity.  

Since Sandley’s passing, I have been flooded by thoughts and prayers from people who met Sandley during a trip here to NWHCM. For such a little man, he touched many, many lives, and I have been blessed by the stories and pictures that they have shared with me.

I have struggled a lot with Sandley’s death. I feel hollow and broken inside, barely able to talk about Sandley or look at pictures of him, yet finding myself breaking down at odd times, crying for my lost son. My hope in writing this is that I’ll be able to start healing. Letting the story which, is too hard to speak out loud, come out in writing.

As I prepare for my return to Haiti, I am excited and ready to get back to my missionary family, the kids, and the work that the Lord has prepared me for, but part of me is still saddened about being back in Haiti without Sandley. I praise and thank God daily for the way He has broken me, only to raise me back up and grow me into the type of servant and man He wants me to be. I know my future is in Haiti, and I know that God will continue to use me there, to serve the Kingdom and people of Haiti.

Dancing with Roseloure

This is my friend Roseloure (pronounced Rose-Lore), a bright and bubbly 8 year old girl who lives in the Miriam Center. She always has a beautiful smile on her face, and her laugh can dissolve even the foulest mood that I have experienced.

I received a lot of counsel from friends, family and other missionaries about my expectations upon coming to Haiti. I know that I cannot be a single great force to save the country. I won’t end hunger, I won’t cure Cholera, and I won’t bring the country out of the slavery of voodoo and into the presence of God. Missionary work is all about allowing God to use you for His purpose, it’s not about you, it’s about the Kingdom. I fully understand that, I am here simply to serve, no matter who or how, for the glory of God.

All that being said, I have still struggled since I have been in Haiti with exactly where and how I fit in at the mission, where I belong.  As I attempt to serve all of the ministries and missionaries here, I find that I always feel like an outsider, I’m involved in the ministry, but not really a part of it.  Part of my struggle revolves around why I came here in the first place. Maintenance is a hard thing to pin down, my days can involve a little bit of everything, from unclogging toilets to loading and unloading crates with the forklift to building shelves for a depot. Some days are worse, spending countless hours trying to track down the money or the supplies just to fix a minor problem, and when that fails having to “Redneck Engineer” a temporary solution. These are all jobs that need doing, but at the end of the day, it’s hard to feel like you’ve accomplished much, really made a difference. Now don’t get me wrong, I knew most of this going in. I have worked maintenance at my church with people I love and consider family for the last 5 years, and even there, sometimes it was a struggle to feel like I “fit in”. Actually, I’ve struggled with this all of my life; I guess I just didn’t realize how much more these feelings would affect me in Haiti. It’s been bad enough that I have, much to the annoyance of some of my fellow missionariesJ, tried to make a place for myself in their ministries. I’ve tried to create worth by involving myself in places where I’m not really needed or wanted.

Anyway, let’s get back to Roseloure. Ever since I was “adopted” by my boy Sandley in the Miriam Center, I have spent a lot of time with the kids there, have been slowly getting over my fear of small children, and have really enjoyed getting to know the kids. A few days ago, I was down in the MC, there was music playing, and Roseloure was dancing around. She came up to me and held out her arms, and without thinking, I swept her up I’m my arms and danced her around the courtyard, much to her delight. Now, this may be hard to believe for those of you who don’t know me, but I am not a dancer. In fact, I have never actually danced with anyone before in my life. But none of that mattered to Roseloure, who was smiling and giggling as I spun her around and around. Since that time, there have been several times, as I’m passing through the MC, that Roseloure and I will “cut a rug”.

So, it occurred to me as I was smiling and thinking of our latest dance, that maybe I have been blinded by my own need to be a part of something, that I can’t see what I really am a part of. As I look for significance in fixing a problem at the mission, accomplishing a certain task, in belonging to something or in being part of a team, am I missing the true reason that God has called me here? My life, heart and soul have so been changed by my relationship with Sandley that it quite frankly scares me. When he cries, my heart breaks. The thought of having to leave him in November brings tears to my eyes even now. As more and more of the kids work their way into my heart, is that why I am here? Is my calling here simply to help feed, comfort, love (and yes, even change his diapers) Sandley? Am I here to help Den-Den up when he falls, to joke with Gilbert, to make Kem, Sherlanda and Walden laugh when I sneak up on them and “scare” them, to be as much a part of their lives as I can? Am I here to dance with Roseloure?

Maybe so. Maybe I’m here to serve and be a witness for what God can do with and through a thoroughly unimpressive, messed up, broken sinner who has been saved only by His Grace and Mercy. In the end, that’s all I really have that I can offer, living my life as a testimony for what God’s love can do for everyone. Instead of searching for significance, instead of what I think I need or want, I should just serve how I can, quit my whining and let God use me as He wants.

Heavenly Father, thank You for Your grace, Your salvation, and mostly for allowing me to serve You and the Kingdom in Haiti. I pray that You grant me the ability to be a good witness of Your glory and grace, and I pray that I can be the man you want me to be, serving how you want me to serve. I will go where You tell me to go, I will serve how You want me to serve, and I will try to love just like You have shown Your love to me and the world. Amen.

Experiencing Haiti

The first week of august was fairly significant in our lives here at the mission. Not only did it signify the last group of short term teams for the year, but it was also when all of our interns from the summer headed home.  It’s kind of bittersweet, it’s a lot calmer around here when all the groups are gone, but it also means that there is a lot less ministry going on. Plus, saying goodbye to a bunch of great interns that you have come to know and love. It’s kind of like losing a whole bunch of your family all at once.

However, I was super excited because my sister Corinna came in with the last group for a visit! Not only was it great to see here and visit, but I also was able to go out with her and experience Haiti. It had occurred to me that other than a coup0le of trips with the Miriam Center kids to Bonneau, I really had not left the Saint Louis campus since I’ve been here in March. Not that there weren’t plenty of opportunities in the last few months, but there just always seemed to be so much to do around here. I had decided that, since I wanted to spend as much time as I could with Corinna while she was here, I would take the opportunity to tag along with her group as they went out around the country.

It was really a great but tiring week! As well as doing all my regular work around campus, I was able to sneak out and do some “hut to huts”, where we just went out into the community, going where the spirit lead, and stopping at homes to talk with the families and to pray with and for them. This was an interesting experience, just walking out through the area around the mission, searching out those that we felt led to find, and praying for them.

We took off one morning for the isle of Tortuga, just about an hour sailboat ride off the coast of Haiti. It was a beautiful sail to the island, although I have to admit I’m not a big fan of the ride J Once we made it to Tortuga, our group split up into two, one providing a VBS and playing with the local kids for a couple of hours, the other group ran a medical clinic for the time we were there. Can you guess which one I was a part of? That’s right! I was blessed to help out the nurse and 2 medical students that were with us that week, to help organize and disperse the needed meds they prescribed. It was very interesting seeing the variety of medical issues coming in, but it was difficult (and I’m sure very difficult for the medical people) to try to help people with the meager medical supplies that we had to offer. But, they did a great job, and before you knew it we had seen around 30 – 40 patients and it was time to pack up our goodies, head to the beach, and wade out to the boat and start the trip back.

The next day we traveled to Anse Lafleur (pronounced Awn-sah-fa-lore), a town on the coast where unfortunately the practice of Voodoo is still extremely prevalent. I was very interested to go to, as I have been interested in trying to learn more about the “religion” of voodoo, and why people would choose to believe in a “faith” based in fear, intimidation and pain. The trip to Anse Lafleur was as uneventful as any other road trip in Haiti, and soon we were pulling over on a side street in town. We got out and started walking up towards a pretty steep looking hill. When asked, our Intern guides said it was an easy 10 minute walk up to the Monument. At this point, I would like to stop to express my amazement at what some people would consider an easy walk. As I clambered up the hill, climbing over rocks and past small Voodoo alters, I began to wonder if this was just some kind of hazing ritual our interns had come up with to torment the teams, but finally, we rounded a corner and were presented with a beautiful view of the ocean and Anse Lafleur, as well as the broken and scorched remnants of a huge cross. The story goes that many years ago, the Catholic Church built an enormous cross overlooking Anse, in order to claim the town for Christ. Sometime later, the cross collapsed in a huge storm, and at the same time a “magic” doll fell from the sky, so everyone in town took that as a sign, and embraces voodoo and the doll as their god. The doll is still enshrined in town, and apparently for the right price, you can get in to see her. Or there are all sorts of comemerative  souvenirs for sale in town J

Anyway, back to the monument. We gathered at the base of the monument and prayed for the people of Haiti, that they would be released from the bondage of voodoo and come to know the love of Christ. Following our prayer, we ventured back down the mountain to a small private beach, where we did a short VBS and spent some time just playing with the kids. A couple hours later, after we were all thoroughly exhausted, we loaded up, stopped for a quick bite at a local restaurant, and headed back toward St. Louis.

One Afternoon we took the walk down through town and to the waterfall, about an hour and a half away. It was a nice, fairly simple walk, and we soon ended up at the waterfall.  The waterfall itself wasn’t huge, but was quite beautiful, and it was really nice to see some of the natural beauty of Haiti, and just relax for a bit.

As we were walking back, I was smacked really hard on the top of my head by something, hard enough to snap my teeth together and stagger me a bit. As I turned around to see who had hit me with what, the people behind were laughing and pointing at a huge mango that apparently had fallen from the tree and cracked me right on the head. The Haitians all assured me that it is a sign of good luck, but the lump on my head said otherwise J (and yes, I did take my vengeance on the mango and ate it)

 One of my favorite activities was to go with the short term group and the Miriam Center kids to Bonneau, a playground about a half hour bus ride away, built for the Miriam Center kids. This was an especially fun trip for me as I got to take Sandley along for his first time. We rode down the slide together; we got to go see a cow and a goat. It was a wonderful morning spent with all the MC kids, but especially great to share with Sandley and Corinna!

 One of the last things we did was to go and spend some time at the nearby city of LaPointe. Right next to the hospital in LaPointe, is a small orphanage that is mainly geared towards helping kids who are rehabbing from surgeries or injuries, but has become

We arrived and set up for a short lesson and craft with the kids, then the fun really began!  We broke out tons of bubbles, jump ropes, balls and other fun stuff and spent a couple of hours just playing with the kids. It was really a lot of fun, and I think that we were as sad to go as they were to see us go.

 This was really a great week, to not only get to see Haiti, but to share it with family as well! I’ll admit, some of the things I am more than happy to say that I tried once, and don’t necessarily need to do again, but some of the experience I hope to be able to do again soon!

I am a Missionary....

One of  my missionary friends here had found this and posted it on Facebook. I liked it and thought I would share it.

My calling is sure. My challenge is big. My vision is clear. My desire is strong. My influence is eternal. My impact is critical. My values are solid. My faith is tough. My mission is urgent. My purpose is unmistakable. My direction is forward. My heart is genuine. My strength is supernatural. My reward is promised. And my God is real. I refuse to be dismayed, disengaged, disgruntled, discouraged, or distracted. Neither will I look back, stand back, fall back, go back or sit back. I do not need applause, flattery, adulation, prestige, stature or veneration. I have no time for business as usual, mediocre standards, small thinking, normal expectations, average results, ordinary ideas, petty disputes or low vision. I will not give up, give in, bail out, lie down, turn over, quit or surrender. I am a missionary. That is what I do.

While I can’t say that I am all that is described here, I do see myself, and I know I am ever growing as He leads.

6/28/12 ~ HARD

If I had to some up my thoughts and feelings about Haiti, “Hard” is about the best I can come up with. As the last two months has crawled by here, I have come to the unerring conclusion that everything about Haiti is hard. Haiti is incredibly hard on everything. The rough roads beat vehicles to pieces. The salt air causes everything to rust in no time. The heat and humidity make life miserable for everyone. The water, when you find it is full of calcium and other assorted nasty things and will probably get you sick.  The ground is thin and rocky, and the only thing that grows the most is mosquitoes, which again, will probably get you sick. Haiti is really hard on the people who live here, making them old before their time, and wearing them down. Everything about Haiti is so difficult, it really makes me wonder if anyone should actually live here, or just abandon the whole country to the insects and go somewhere better. Haiti is really, really hard on missionaries. Trust me, I speak from personal experience. I have been bitten by more mosquitoes then I can count, and continue to be their favorite snack! I have heat rash, I can barely sleep. Most days I’m so exhausted and dehydrated that just making it through the day is a chore. I have several weird sores on my legs that won’t seem to go away, and I have a fungus on my big toe that I think may cause it to fall off soon. The food ranges from bland to scary (if I never again have to eat beans & rice, it would be too soon), and you quickly learn to eat for the purpose of living, not to enjoy.

Haiti is hard, and I can truthfully say that if someone offered me a plane ticket home tomorrow, I would go. I would go back home to Indiana, enjoy some time with all my friends and family, eat some good food, and sleep in my bed. It would be great.

Then, I would re-supply, pack back up and head back to Haiti.

Here’s the thing: No matter how hard Haiti is, no matter how much it feels sometimes like the entire country is trying to kill me, I have seen the beauty here, and I know now more than ever that I have been called to serve here. I have seen the beauty of a people and a country, that no matter how much the devil tries to hurt them, still stand tall and worship the Lord with all their might. I have seen the beauty of lives that have been changed in the Miriam Center, where children with special needs ( who are abandoned and shunned by Haitian society) are growing and flourishing, learning to walk, to talk, even going to school. I have seen beauty as the Miriam center has reached out to parents of these kids, showing them how to love and care for them, changing the attitudes, one family at a time. I have seen beauty in the lives that have been changed through visiting surgical teams, who work tirelessly, helping as many patients as they can, fixing everything from Hernias to Club Feet and anything in between. I have heard beauty in the sound of newborn babies, delivered safely in our Birthing Center. I have seen beauty in the faces of the Gran Moun, the elderly who live on campus. In Haitian society, if you’re too old to work, you’re too old to eat, so many of these people would be left to die. Yet here they have a place, a society, a reason to go on. I have seen the beauty of a church service, filled to overflowing, with praise and devotion so powerful, you think the roof is going to come off the church. And i have seen the beauty in a people, that no matter how hard their life is, that are quick to smile, to tell you hello, to offer a hand in friendship. And I have seen the beauty of God’s love in the passion, commitment, caring, dedication and love of the American missionaries that I am privileged to serve alongside. They are simply amazing people, and I count myself blessed daily to be able to work with them, to help them by supporting their ministries, using my God given gifts and talents to serve our Lord and Savior!

IIn my time in Haiti, I have been broken by God again and again. Everytime I think I have a handle on my life here, God shows me again and again how wrong I was. I have come to look forward to learning everyday what new ways I can be stretched, what new ways God can show me how to truly feel others pain, how to truly love, how to truly serve. I don’t claim to know the future, nor what God has planned for me. I do know that I have been called to serve in Haiti, and I serve with a glad heart, a weary body, and the knowledge that great things are being done for the Kingdom, and I am honored to answer Jesus’ call in Luke 10:2

He told them, “The harvest is plentiful, but the workers are few. Ask the Lord of the harvest, therefore, to send out workers into his harvest field.”

Haiti is an amazingly hard, extensively difficult, brutally demanding country. What better place can there be to serve?

4/12/12 ~ A Day in the Life..

Hey all, I just wanted to do a quick update, and share with you a day in the life, so to speak, of a maintenance person in Haiti.

Problem: Need to install a new washer and dryer to be used by the Miriam Center.

Hurdle: Water and electricity already run, appliances moved into place, just need a hose for the washer, a exhaust line for the dryer and a cord for the dryer.

Solution:

In the U.S. ~ Run to Wal-Mart, pick up needed supplies, return home and install hoses, test washer and dryer.

In Haiti ~
1) Talk to plumbing guy on campus to determine we don't have what we need here. Best bet is to find the parts in Port du Paix.

2) Get cash for parts and travel to Port du Paix, walk to downtown St Louis and board a tap-tap to PdP. ( The funny thing about this experience, when me and my guide boarded the tap-tap, there were only 5 people in the bed of the truck. by the time we got to Port du Paix, there were 38 people, 2 boxes of clothes, about 10 cases of empty beer bottles, a ton of bananas and assorted fruit, some empty diesel cans, etc)

3) Arrive in PdP, disembark from tap-tap and begin searching local "hardware stores" for needed parts. Cant find parts, but every place suggests somewhere else to try.

4) No parts at nearest places, so we board 2 moto's (scooters) and widen our search area for parts. (and yes, before you ask, the sight of me hanging on to a small Haitian on the back of a beat up little scooter, flying through the streets did get quite a few strange looks)

5) After about 2 hours, 250 Haitian Gourds (equal to 50 Haitian dollars or about $ 6.25 U.S.) and too many stores to count, we determine that no matter how many back-alley places we visit, they either don't have the parts, or we just can't find them, we decide the parts may be in Port au Prince, so we head our motos back to where the tap-taps gather on the outskirts of PdP, and head home to St Louis. Did I mention that it is raining by now?

6) Pile into a different tap-tap to head for St Louis ( this one is a smaller truck, with only about 17 people in the back, plus cargo. This truck also has the endearing trait of dying every time he stops, and only wants to start back up about half the time, necessitating the driver to get out and whack the starter with a piece of metal to get it started)

7) Return to St. Louis campus with no parts, no hope of parts, and 350 Gourds lighter.

8) New goal is to try and find out tomorrow where they got the parts for the other washers and dryers on campus at the last time, and go from there.

9) Take a shower, call it a night and dream of a Wal-Mart or Home Depot opening up just down the street.

10) Wake up tomorrow and start again!

One undeniable conclusion I have reached about my service in Haiti, is that it will be an adventure, and will most assuredly teach me about patience. thank you God for allowing me to serve your Kingdom, and for all of the great blessing you have shown me!


Good night all, and God bless you all!

Justin

4/1/12 ~ Safe and Sound

Well, after much stress and anxiety, I finally made it here to my new home in St. Louis du Nord Haiti! It's been a long journey to get here, not necessarily physically, but spiritually and emotionally as well. After years of praying for god to show me a place to serve, I am here and ready to go. it has been very bittersweet leaving my friends and family back home, but I (and they) know that this is where God wants me to be, and i know I go with their prayers and support.
I was welcomed to my new home with open arms, much happiness and the promise of plenty of things that need doing. Even though the campus has changed quite a bit since September, it really does feel good to be back, and I'm excited to get to work.

The journey itself was actually pretty smooth, other that a big rain storm that delayed my flight from Indy to Miami. Instead of getting into Miami about 9pm, we ended up getting there about 11:30, which made for a very short night when I had to leave back for the airport at 4am. But that's probably OK, i don't think I could have slept much, even if i had the time :-) I got to meet a lady named Barb on the shuttle to the airport who was also traveling to Northwest. She is from Indiana as well, but her flight schedule had routed her through Cincinnati, so we didn't meet until that evening. She had been to NWHCM several times, and was returning for the week. It was great to have somebody to talk to in the shuttle and in the airport. Once in the airport, we met up with several other groups that were going down, and we all had a good time hanging out in the airport.

The flight to Haiti went without problem, and i was pleased to see that all of my luggage made it to Haiti. After the maddening rush of getting our luggage, going through customs and finding Jacques (the gentleman from NWHCM whose daunting job it is to get all of us off of planes and where we need to go, as well as getting us out when we leave) we made our way outside where we split up. Most of the group would be taking the bus ride to St. Louis and barb and I were flying. We left the group and all our luggage at the bus, and headed to the airport, where we waited several hours for another couple of groups to come in that were on different flights to Haiti. Once everyone was there, we waited for the next flight to Port du Paix, when another small problem presented itself. We had 18 missionaries (including myself) heading to PdP, but the plane only holds 17. So, I volunteered to hang out for the next flight, and let the others go. I figured I'm here for 7 months, i can wait a little bit. About 2 hours later I boarded the plane to head out.
The ride from PdP to St Louis was as exciting as ever, and I finally made it to the campus just in time for dinner (after a round of greetings and hugs), then took a look at my new digs. It was a great blessing that Ed Ginter, who had just left Haiti, left me a bunch of things to help get me settled. It is such a blessing, not only for the stuff, but for the thoughts and care he left to help me feel at home. Thanks Ed, you're a great guy and i hope we meet again someday.
Well, that's all for now. I have a bunch of pictures, but i have not been able to figure out a way to get them from Ipod to computer to Blog. (if anyone has any suggestions, please shoot me a line) But I'm hopeful I will get them up sometime.
Have a great and blessed day, week and Easter, and may God bless you all!
in His name,
Justin