The return of “Mwen Regret” (1/18/13)

As I prepared for my return to Haiti, I honestly was mostly focused on packing my bags as full as possible, making sure I had everything done in the states that I needed to be done while I was gone, getting last minute visits in with friends, trying to finish up a few projects that I had taken on at the church while I was home, that I didn’t really have much time to think about actually being back in Haiti.

It really wasn’t until I was on the plane from Miami to Port-au-Prince that I felt my heart drop a little. I had been so missing the life that I had in Haiti, my friends and family and the kids that I hadn’t really gotten my mind prepared for actually being back in Haiti. When I left, I was at the outside of my limits, reeling from loss and literally numb. Would those feelings come rushing back to overwhelm me? When I saw the campus, could I focus on where God was leading me, or would I be stuck in the past? Would I be remembered? Would I still be needed?

As I walked out of the airport, which by the way has been completely re-done and modernized, I was hit by the familiar sights, sounds, and yes, smells of Haiti, and started feeling better. As I saw the familiar faces of the mission staff, and then rejoiced in re-uniting with Chad & Emily Terrell and Ashley Wingate members of my beloved mission family, I was feeling more and more at home. Boarding the small plane to fly from Port-au-Prince to Port-du-Paix, hopping on the mission bus for the hour long trip to St. Louis, and finally pulling through the gate. As I got off the bus, I knew I was home. I and the other missionaries were greeted by a herd of the kids from the orphanage. Amidst a sea of hugs and the repeated calling of my name, I made my way into the Miriam Center, and was embraced on all sides by the amazing staff and kids. My heart was so full with joy, seeing all the kids I had missed so much. Gilbert, Den-Den, Roselore, Joseph, Kem, Carlos, Mackenly, Jean, Issac, Walden. The list goes on and on. And the amazing staff that has abandoned that part of their own culture that says that these kids are curses and should be shunned, yet they love the kids as if they are their own. My heart was overwhelmed when I finally made it through the kids, and saw Stephanie Mosier and Heather Meyer, the amazing ladies who help run the Miriam Center and who have become such a big part of my life, patiently answering all my questions and helping me as my love and passion for the kids has been awakened and grown to levels that I’ll admit scare me at times. I find myself wanting to spend more and more time with the kids, to learn more about them and what makes them unique and beautiful. To be there to comfort them when they’re sick, to play with them and to love them as my own. My heart still, and I’m sure always will, ache for Sandley, but I’ve found that my heart, which I always assumed / feared was a little hard and small, has more room in it than I thought.

The only blemish on this amazing reunion was a few of the family members that either hadn’t arrived yet, or more sadly wouldn’t be coming back. One of the things I always loved about short-term mission trips was the intense love and sense of community that would develop within the group in such a short period of time. For me, this phenomenon has only been more intense here in Haiti. I love my mission family dearly, and while we may not always agree, I love them nonetheless, they are a part of me, and when they leave, I grieve. But, God has a plan and a calling for each of us, and as they leave, or have left, I cherish the time we spent together and I pray for their new paths and ministries.

As I started settling back in, it was amazing how quickly my life seemed to return to normal. As I walked the mission campus, now as familiar to me as my church in the states where I served for 7 years, I started making a list of what needed done, of things that I needed to work on, all the while greeting the familiar faces of our Haitian staff.  Going outside the gate, walking some of the familiar streets of St Louis du Nord, felt as natural to me as walking around home in Indiana. Even my very limited knowledge of Creole, which admittedly I hadn’t used or studied in a couple months, is a little better than I remember in that I am understanding more of what I’m hearing. I still struggle to find the right words to answer, but I’m getting better at stringing enough words together to make myself understood.

As the next couple of days progressed, I found myself falling into familiar rhythms of my life in Haiti, with one exception. The anxiety I had before was gone, to be replaced by peace and a certainty of my calling. The unmistakable knowledge that while I find myself vastly under qualified to be His servant here, I have been called and am here to serve His people and His Kingdom in Haiti, however I can, for as long as He commands.

 

So, I guess before I go, I should explain the title of this blog. As a blanc (white person) in Haiti, it’s automatically assumed that:

·        I am rich

·        that I have access to some secret cache full of tools, water, electricity,  equipment, batteries, etc that I’m just dying to give away, if only I’m asked the correct number of times (or yelled at loud enough)

·        That I can fix any problem

·        That I always know what’s going on

Unfortunately, all of these assumptions are false, but good luck getting most Haitians to believe that. So, one of the first phrases I have learned, is that when asked for something that I just can’t give or don’t have, is “Mwen Regret” or “I’m sorry”. So here’s the funny thing, what started out as me just trying to be polite has taken on a life and humor all its own. So now, as I walk through the campus, I’m met with a chorus of “Mwen Regret” coming from not only our orphans that live here, but from our Haitian staff as well. Even amongst my missionary family, Mwen Regret pops up from time to time.

Now don’t get me wrong, sometimes there are things that I’m asked for, that I really truly wish I could give, but I can’t. Instead, Mwen Regret has become sort of a running joke, shared and hopefully bonding myself, my Haitian brothers and sisters, and my beloved family here in what I consider one of God’s great blessings, laughter.

By the way, I have been working on a short story: “The Legend of Mwen Regret”, possibly coming soon to a blog near you!

There and Back (Part 2)

 

 

So, I returned to the states in early November , worn down, beat up , overwhelmed, sad, but strangely assured of my calling. In fact, I am now surer of my calling to serve in Haiti than I was before I came here. But, I was more than ready for a break.

It was really odd going home. As much as I wanted to see my friends and family, to attend church, to just recover and regain a sense of the normalcy that I felt I had lost in Haiti, I couldn’t find it. I looked around at familiar sights that were now strangely alien to me. Things and people that I had longed for while in Haiti, I know felt very uncomfortable around, as if something had changed, and was just a little off. I wanted nothing more than to be normal, but strangely enough, normal just wouldn’t come. I was torn between wanting to see friends and to spend time with family, and craving the solace of just sitting alone in my house. I’m sure a big part of this was depression over the loss of Sandley. I’ve really been struggling with how to deal with his death, for some reason I can’t seem to grieve. I’ve lost many loved ones, but Sandley is different, and I don’t know why. All I know is that I try and ignore the pain, and I end up breaking down when certain songs come on the radio. I’ve been caught off guard several times as my computer screen saver comes on, and it starts scrolling through all of his pictures that I have on my computer. As I see the pictures of my boy, I’m overwhelmed by loss. I know where he is now, but I wish we had more time together..

I also think part of my problem revolves around the culture shock of life in Haiti versus life in the states. As much as I enjoyed driving my car, Wal-Mart, fast food, hot water and electricity anytime you wanted it, it so contrasted my last 7 months of life that I had a hard time adjusting. It was so different that I found myself missing Haiti all the more. Life here is unbelievably hard, but somehow it makes sense.

Don’t get me wrong, I did have a lot of bright moments though. I was blessed to spend a lot of time with my brother, as we traveled to and from his weekly physical therapy appointments. I had the chance to sing with my church choir, something I have always enjoyed. I was able to reconnect with several good friends, including one that I hadn’t really seen in years. I was able to speak to several groups of children about my work in Haiti. All in all, my time at home was great, but still didn’t feel right. I was constantly thinking about and worried about my family in Haiti. As much as I missed Sandley, I missed his brothers and sisters in the Miriam Center, too. I missed my mission family tremendously; people that in such a short time I had come to love so deeply.

Honestly though, I found myself very depressed, and questioning if I was strong enough to continue on the path that God had put before me. It’s no secret to those who know me that I have little in the way of self-worth, when I look in the mirror, I’ve never liked what I saw, and still don’t. I’m plagued by self-doubt and the constant reminding of past pains and failures. I long for things that, deep down inside, I fear I will never have, that I don’t deserve. I just don’t think much of myself, and I often question how God could have me in this place, serving alongside such amazing people. As much as I struggled with these thoughts, as much self-doubt as I had, I knew deep in my heart that I would come back here. Deep inside, in a place that I didn’t know existed, I have found God’s strength and the certainty that while I may doubt, I am meant to be here, to serve our great God, to do what I can to show Christ to the Father’s lost sheep.

I’m not sure what all God has in store for me as I continue in His service. I know there will be joy and beauty. There will be sadness and pain. There will be conflict and peace, and while I may falter, I will not fall. While I may still suffer from periods of self-doubt, I can never doubt that I am a child of the King, completely guilty and completely forgiven, and that it is His plan and for His purpose that I am here.

There and Back (Part 1)

This past November, I left my home in Haiti to return to the states, marking the end of my 7 month “Missionary Candidate” process with NWHCM. My time in Haiti was harder than I ever could have imagined, on many, many levels. I have seen more poverty, more beauty, felt more amazing joy and happiness, and suffered such gut wrenching loss that I still am struggling to process it all.  Honestly, I was ready for a break by Mid-October, than after the loss of Sandley, I was done. I was so far past my limit that I didn’t know how to function; I just wanted it all to go away, and I didn’t really care how.

But that’s when God began teaching me my hardest lesson. When I was done, when I was at the end of the rope and ready and willing to just give up, I got up. Somehow I managed to continue on, to do what I needed to do, to fulfill my obligations, to continue to serve the people I love. I made it through my last 3 weeks and as I boarded the truck for the airport that last morning, my heart was infinitely heavy, but surprisingly enough it was because I did not want to leave. I did not want to leave my family, the people I love and the people I came to serve. As worn out and used up as I felt, I didn’t want to go, and as I left, I began counting the days till I would be back, thinking of what I needed to get done before my return.

Now, here is the truly amazing thing to me, and my greatest lesson learned. I know myself, and I am nowhere near that strong. I know that it was nothing of me, and all of God’s grace and power that kept me going, that has confirmed in me that I am where He wants me to be, that I am blessed to serve Him and His Kingdom in Haiti, and that with and through Him, I can make it through anything.

I know I will still stumble and fall. I have my own selfish needs and wants , I get angry, I get sad, sometimes I still let the small nagging voices cause me to question my purpose, my future, even my very existence. I am only a mere man (and not a very good example at that) and no matter how much I want to be like Christ, I can never be. But that’s ok. God knew that when He created me, He knows me when I am far away and when I am near to Him, and He still loves me.  He loved me so much, He sent His son to die for me.

With such amazing love and such a terrible sacrifice, all for me, how can I give anything less than everything I am in His service?  I don’t have much, but I’m willing to give my mind, my body, my sweat, my heart and the blood it pumps, even my very life if need be, to help spread His name and love to His lost sheep. I am a missionary, an ambassador of Christ. That’s what I do.

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.