Taking a break from Math....

Wednesday, December 9th, 2009 8:00p.m.

Palm tree branches doubled over, churning waves crashing upon the shore, water pouring over the fishing dock like small waterfalls, sailboats tossed and turned far off course, jackets and long sleeves donned, temperature dropped sufficiently.

Perhaps this seems to be referencing some tropical storm. No - it's just a description of a blustery day in Haiti. The wind suddenly picked up late this morning, and soon school papers were blowing all over the place, so Ashley and I decided it was time to take a break on the beach. We were instantly entranced...with spray from the frothy waves sprinkling our faces, the deafening wind and crashing waves filling our ears...this opportunity could not be passed up; Math would wait. Crash joined us, and we all jumped in, riding the gigantic waves, screaming and laughing as they pulled and pushed us, now throwing us onto the rocky shore, now threatening to bury us in the depths. When we tired of being tossed like dirty clothes in a washing machine, we sat on the edge of the dock and let the white caps splash up over our already drenched selves. A thorough and rewarding search for seashells along the shore was the perfect finale to our afternoon adventure.

Two hours later we traversed upstairs to bathe and relax, invigorated but exhausted. The wind had slowed a bit, but the pretty little wind chime hanging in my window was still tinkling delightfully. Sigh. Another wonderful day in Haiti.

Haitian Holiday Season...

Saturday, December 5th, 2009 7:00p.m.

This is the first time I have been away from home for Thanksgiving and for the holiday season in general. I wasn't sure what to expect, from myself and everyone else. Would I be homesick? How different would it be? What new traditions would I learn and participate in? Well, I needn't have worried.

Thanksgiving day dawned sunny and hot, just as every other day here does. I had given the girls the day off, even though it was an American holiday and all the Haitians wondered why in the world Ashley and Kelsey got to have a holiday from school on a random Thursday. I sure didn't mind the break! Crash and I read and relaxed all morning, and Dee and Grandma spent their time in the kitchen, concocting numerous surprise dishes...we were very curious.

By mid-afternoon (about the same time my family would have been sitting down to eat their dinner) the food was ready and we were astounded to find the table set with special plates and silverware at each place (turkey and Indian place settings made by Ashley and Kelsey for a school art project were a nice addition as well), and in the center of the table were bowls and bowls of mashed potatoes, noodles and gravy, creamed corn, homemade rolls, and broiled chicken (I liked it better than turkey). There were guests as well, just like my family always has: there's always at least one person present who is not a member of the family. The only difference was that these guests could not speak English. Ashley read her informative essay on the first Thanksgiving, we each told one thing we were thankful for - some in English, some in Creole - Wilckly prayed, and the feast began. I almost forgot I was in Haiti for a while; the food and the stmosphere were so American. And when we were satisfingly stuffed, Dee produced, not one, not two, but three pumpkin pies! I was overjoyed...what a perfect finish. The entire day was wonderful, and I was not homesick once.

Now it is December...though my mind knows that, it is difficult to get my body to believe it, as Ashley, Kelsey, and I sit here making Christmas cards in 90 degree weather. We went swimming this morning, I got a darker tan and more freckles, and I'm sweating as I type this in the open doorway, only twenty days from Christmas. Crazy. This week we have been singing Christmas Carols, listening to Christmas music, putting up Christmas decorations, and making Christmas cards. Just the same as I would be doing at home. I have always loved the holiday season, and I am so glad that celebrating it here is turning out to be such a fun experience.

So, though this is a bit late and a bit early; I figured since it was right in the middle, what better time to say: Happy Thanksgiving and Merry Christmas from Haiti!

My firsts in Haiti...

Wednesday, November 25th, 2009 2:00 p.m.

First time living on a Caribbean island.
First time swimming a quarter of a mile out into the ocean.
First time being away from home for more than a month.
First time teaching on a beach, thirty feet from the ocean shore.
First time touching a jellyfish (once by accident and once on purpose).
First time seeing a live scorpion.
First time getting blisters from sunburn.
First time riding a mule up a mountain for four hours straight.
First time drinking fresh grapefruit juice.
First time speaking in front of a large group of people in Creole.
First time peeing on the ground behind a house.
First time cleaning/drying out a starfish.
First time killing a spider that was bigger than my fist.
First time eating/drinking:

- lambi (the creature that lives inside conch shells)
- goat
- fresh, raw avocado
- coffee

- kenep (a tiny fruit)
- fresh salt-water fish
- blé (cracked-wheat mush)
- cornmeal
- banana soup
First time seeing a live blow fish.

First time seeing a dead blowfish.
First time entering the Port-au-Prince airport and coming back out the same way.
First time seeing a rainbow over mountain tops.
First time attending a Haitian wedding.
First time riding on the back ledge of the truck (much to Dee’s chagrin).
First time viewing the Pleides, Orion, the Big Dipper, and Scorpio constellations all in the sky at the same time.
First time finishing a journal in less than three months.
First time waking up every morning with the sun.
First time having a beach for my backyard.
First bonfire on a beach.
First time roasting mini marshmallows on a wire coat hanger.

An account of my typical day in Haiti...

Friday, November 6th, 2009 4:00p.m.

A rooster crows somewhere in the distance. The rustling of straw brooms and bare feet on the pavement reaches my ears, and soon the clinking of pots and pans being washed and voices in rushed conversation join the sounds of the morning. I roll over, irritatedly swat at the persistent mosquitoes buzzing around my head, and pull the thin sheet over my face. Finally the mosquitoes win, and I open my eyes, pull back the cover and sit up. Though it is only 6a.m., the sun is already pretty high in the sky, and our room is filled with light. My room-mate is still asleep, so after getting dressed I seat myself on my bed with a Bible, a highlighter, a book, and a pencil to have my quiet time before the day begins.

Soon Kelsey peeks her adorable, grinning face in the doorway and we say “Good morning.” By now Crash is awake, and I make sure all my materials are in order for the day before venturing out with my mobile desk (the rolling suitcase containing all of our school books and supplies) down to our school “room.” After setting out the desks and my chair I head back upstairs to wait for breakfast. Everyone else is up and about: Simone is busy in the kitchen, Yoka and the boys are hurrying (as much as a person can hurry in Haiti) to finish their chores before they leave for school, Bioude is cleaning and watching Josiah, while Dee and Crash sit at the computers working on forms, e-mail replies, and internet updates, and Wilckly is already busy meeting with people.

I finally locate the keys and open up one of the many storage rooms to retrieve canned milk for Kelsey’s and my cereal. Finding clean bowls and spoons is another matter, but eventually we have all eaten (Ashley favors pate and spam sandwiches over Cheerios) and the girls and I troop over the wall, down the stairs and to our seaside classroom.

Class begins with a hymn, Bible reading, memory verse of the week, and a prayer, then we practice handwriting. After that come Arithmatic, and while Kelsey is coloring her number pages I drill Ashley with flash cards, trying to beat her fastest time of 28 seconds for 20 cards. Then Ashley finishes her lesson and Kelsey and I have story time. Next is Grammar/Spelling/Vocabulary for Ashley, Phonics/Reading for Kelsey, then Geography, History, Science or Spanish (depending on the day), Reading, and finally Art or Music (also depending on the day). After History we have decided we need a slight change of scenery, so we pack up the books and tote everything back upstairs for a short break and finishing the remaining subjects at the table.

By the time lessons are over the afternoon meal has been set out. Around 2p.m. we are all seated with our dishes of rice and beans (always), corn, carrots, fried chicken, and Coca-Cola. The dining room table also serves as the office, so when lunch is over, I simply clear my place nad scoot over to a computer. The internet is free, so I spend some time replying to e-mails and checking my blog before connecting with Ashley to make sure all her homework is done for the day. Then I grab a book, a pen, and my journal and carry a chair down to the beach to relax in the fresh air for a while.

Once my mind and body are refreshed I climb the stairs once again to see if Dee or Crash need help with anything. Josiah is awake from his nap, so I lift him out of the playpen and tote him around on my hip until he grows tired of that and we find a room where he can crawl around. Soon Kelsey joins us and we play on the floor, reading, singing, telling stories, and giggling at ‘Siah’s antics.

Soon someone comes to relieve me of the children and I spend the next portion of my afternoon in my room, grading and preparing for the next day’s lessons. Very quickly the light fades from the room, and by 5:30 the sun has left the sky, showering the horizon with pastel pinks and creams and brilliant streaks of orange and gold. I gravitate to the office, where by now everyone else has gathered until the generator is turned on. Before long, we once again have light and energy, and while everyone takes turns on the computers Crash pops in a movie which we all enjoy watching while munching on Dee’s delicious popcorn and listening to the faint crash of the waves on the nearby shore.

Around 8:00 the boys place chairs in a circle under the brightest light we have, computers are shut down and the TV is turned off, and we each find a seat for our evening devotional. We begin with a song, repeated in both Creole and English, then Wilckly speaks. I do my best to listen and pick out a few words here and there that I understand, and even manage to piece together a concept he is explaining. Kelsey is sitting in her Daddy’s lap, and I watch as she lets her eyes slowly close, lulled to sleep by the sound of his voice. What a precious way to fall asleep each night. The discussion over, Wilckly asks me to pray, and I ask, “In Creole or English? ‘Merci, Sègné’ is all I’ve got…” Everyone laughs, and I say the closing prayer – in English.

The chairs are put away, and I pack up my computer, only to be met by Ashley halfway to my room with “Can Yoka and I borrow your computer to watch a movie?” I hand over the coveted laptop, after reminding her that “We have school in the morning, so don’t stay up too late!” and step into my room to read and write before bed. The floor is swept and mopped, the trash can is emptied, and my bed is made. I quickly check the wave of false humility (an attitude I have to combat quite often in this country) that sweeps over me as I struggle once more to grow accustomed to this culture that focuses so much on class and rank. After reading, Crash and I have a lovely conversation about what has been on our minds recently and what we have been reading, and then we strike the matches to light our nightly ration of Plakatox and pop in our ipods to wind down until the generator is turned off. About twenty minutes later the lights go out, the hum of the machine is stilled, and we are left to fall asleep to the calming sounds of crickets, a slight breeze stirring the mango leaves, and the perpetually crashing ocean waves. Bon nwit!

The Terrible Mountain...

Monday, October 26th, 2009 9:00p.m.

It was 4a.m. when I opened my eyes to inky blackness and heard the hushed voices of Mdme. Kiki and Crash. Time to get up. I stepped outside and looked up at the sky. It was like walking into another world. Orion and the Pleiades were clearly visible, billions of other sparkling lights dotted across the firmament, and three falling stars shot across my view in the few moments I stood there in awe, unable to take my eyes away from the sight. All too soon the truck was packed up and we headed out to begin our adventure.

We turned off of the highway onto a wide, newly-graveled mountain road, surprisingly, and followed this until we reached a marketplace just beginning to fill up with people. It was still barely 7a.m. Here we left the truck and followed the men who had greeted us and taken our bags…followed them past the market to where they had five mules laden with baskets and saddles, waiting for us. Yes, we were to continue our journey on mules. I was not particularly thrilled with this idea, but apparently Haitians think it is both easier and more fun to ride rather than walk, and that they were doing us a favor by providing such transportation, so mount the beasts we did, and began our expedition into the mountains. Only Mark and Pastor Julmis (this was his church) had been here before, so even Dee and Wilckly were greenhorns on this trail. At first the path was smooth and fairly level, but before long we were traversing over large rocks, around sharp corners, through knee-deep mud and narrow passages, and down extremely steep hills. Besides trying to stay on my animal, keeping my legs from being crushed by trees or other passing donkeys on their way to the market, and taking in all of the gorgeous scenery, I was also doing my best to take pictures of the rest of the team – while riding on the mule. And I didn’t do too badly, if I may say so myself.

At one point we got caught in the middle of a huge traffic jam. Everyone was shouting and arguing, there was pushing and pulling, crushing of the legs, and all the Haitians on their way to the market were telling the men who were leading us that they were crazy for bringing blans up the mountain…until they heard that we were going to the church. Then they said “Oh, good…they need to preach the gospel.” We finally got through, only to soon reach a swiftly flowing river, which we crossed, while on the mules. I truly felt like I was in a book, or a movie, as though this adventure was too bizarre to be real. After two hours of jolting and jostling atop the mules, we were able to dismount, clean up a bit, sit on chairs, and eat something before the last leg of our journey. That “leg” turned out to be another two hours…little did we know that when the Haitians say “almost there”, what they really mean is that we are just closer to the destination than we were when we first started. It could be anywhere from one to three more hours until we arrive.

After ascending nearly vertical inclines and following winding mountain paths, we finally reached the church, where a group of silently staring people waited to greet us. We would later learn that these people had given up a day at the market – their livelihood – to be there to welcome us. They kept saying that they were so honored that we had come, and they brought us handmade chairs to rest on, fresh grapefruit juice to drink, and allowed us to take countless photos and video of them. The children, so shy at first, eventually came to us and let a few of us hold them and speak with them. We watched as they clung to their mamas, who smiled and laughed and played with them – something quite unusual for mothers here to do. When they had a mini church service, such singing and dancing and true excitement occurred as I have not ever seen here before. These mountain people really know how to celebrate. They even had a time of prayer: the pastor rang a little bell, and everyone immediately knelt to the ground and began praying, out loud. The sound sent a chill up my spine and brought tears to my eyes.

I was reluctant to leave when the time came, and not just because I did not want to get back up on that mule. We were hugged and kissed by all the ladies, hands were shaken, and everyone said farewell as they escorted us part-way down their mountain, which we had discovered was named “The Terrible Mountain.” Yes, really. We had climbed The Terrible Mountain. The trip down was faster at first; I had opted for mache-ing (walking) for the first half of the return journey, and so had a few of the others, which our bones and muscles greatly appreciated later on. Darkness was swiftly coming on, and clouds had begun to gather, so our leaders were hurrying the mules as much as the beasts would hurry, but it wasn’t enough. Soon the sky let loose and we were walking in a downpour, slipping and sliding on muddy ground that was growing less and less visible as the night came on. It was completely dark by the time we reached the truck and unpacked, completely exhausted, soaking wet, and muddy. The rain let up long enough for us to get down the mountain and back to the highway, then the torrents and wind returned, even stronger this time. The raindrops felt like little knives pelting our skin, and the wind was icy cold. The storm was so bad that Wilckly could barely see the road, and had to drive very slowly for a while, but we finally arrived back at the beach, I got a hot bath, thanks to Crash, and then dropped into bed, my eyes closing before my head even hit the pillow.

Our adventure was over, but the memories of it – both in my mind and in my bones – would remain for quite some time.

Let the sea roar, let the mountains sing together...

Saturday, October 17th, 2009 7:45 p.m.

There's something about this land...not this country, but the actual land it is on, that seems to describe some of the many attributes of God. I am sitting here gazing at the mountains, which unapologetically tower above the tips of our roofs, their majestic heights soaring into the sky. The mountains speak to me of God's faithfulness, His constancy. They are immovable, enormous, and everlasting. Nothing can cause those mountains to slide even an inch to the right or left. They will be there until the world comes to its end. God is like that: He is never-changing, constant, and steady as a rock (Psalm 18:2, 62:1-2, Isaiah 26:4). For that reason, we can always trust Him without question. Even when the winds are blowing and the thunder is raging, and the night is black as pitch, when the lightning flashes, in that split-second, we can look up and see the mountains, still there. And we know, beyond a shadow of a doubt that God is right there, no matter how severe the storm or how dark the sky.

Behind me, the surf is quite restless today. Large waves, many with white crests of sea foam, have been crashing upon the sandy shore ever since early this morning. However, only a few days ago I was walking along the beach with Dee and the ocean was so calm it was nearly inaudible. It can so quickly go from creating thunderous, wild waves to tiny, soft ones. The sea explains to me the mystery of God's might coupled with His wonderful compassion. His anger towards sin is so powerful, but at the exact same time His lovingkindness to all people is never-ending (Romans 2:18, 1 John 4:9-10). God's contrasting attributes of wrathful judgement and gentle compassion are so perplexing to the human mind, but His marvelous oceans help make the mystery a bit less complicated for me.

Finally I understand why being here, in the middle of the mountains and the ocean, is so soothing to my soul. I am living right between visible, tangible reminders of God's constant faithfulness, His overwhelming strength, and His everlasting love. God has placed within His creation evidence that He is who He says He is. And finally I think I can appreciate just what the psalmist, who had the same visible reminders in Israel - lofty mountains and vast seas - meant:

"Let the sea roar and all it contains, the world and those who dwell in it. Let the rivers clap their hands, let the mountains sing together for joy before the Lord, for He is coming to judge the earth; He will judge the world with righteousness and the people with equity."

Psalm 98:7-9

Such As These...

Sunday, October 11^th, 2009 8:00 p.m.

This morning I held a tiny baby for about two hours of the church service. She couldn’t have been more than a month old, and she was so precious. She stared at Crash and me as though she had never seen a blan (white person) before, and she probably hadn’t. She slept so peacefully in my arms the entire time. Babies have such a healing, calming effect. The tinier, more helpless they are, the stronger the effect. And this baby girl was so tiny, and so, so darling. Though my arms ached afterwards I didn’t want to give her back when the time came.

And then there is Kelsey. Oh that wonderful girl! The questions never stop flowing from her mouth, but I love it. “Shaina, why do the ants bite? Shaina, why is the sun yellow? Why is the water salty? Why can’t we see the salt? Why do I have to ride in the front of the truck? Shaina, why is that your name?” and so on. I told her that soon she’s going to be smarter than all of us if she keeps getting answers to all of her questions! She’s definitely causing me to think more than I have in quite a while. Kelsey is always so quiet during school - busy soaking everything in, I think - but as soon as it is over the inquiries begin afresh. She’s not always asking, however; sometimes she is telling. And her words usually cause quite a bit of laughter. Her best quote so far is from one day when we were all swimming. The usual questions were pouring out: “Why is that island so far? Can we swim way out there? Why is the boat so far?” until finally she concluded “This ocean is too big!”

And Ashley – she and I are quickly becoming fast friends. From listening to Demi Levato and High School Musical on my itunes to playing volleyball and keep-away with the boys and girls that work here at the mission, we’ve found quite a few things we have in common – besides that we’re both oldests in our families. Ashley is so smart (we have already had to double up on her math lessons because she says it’s so easy!), and though her questions are fewer than her little sister’s they are even more thought-provoking. Following our history and Bible lessons especially, we have had many discussions about the flood, dinosaurs, Creation, and humankind in general. I’m very grateful for the few Bible classes I took in college!

Melissa and Alexandra are two more little gems in my life here. I don’t see them as often because they don’t live here, but when they are around all I can do is smile. Melissa is a girl I met on my first trip to Haiti, and at that time she was living with the Dorces because her little body was covered with unidentifiable sores. I fell in love with her then, and now every time I see her, completely healed, her beautiful hair grown back, those memories are refreshed. She is a little troublemaker at times, but still so adorable. Alexandra is a chubby little two-year-old wonder. She is the daughter of Mark and Monique, two very important people here at the mission, so we see her often. When I first got here she was very shy around me, but now she smiles each time I greet her, and tries to talk to me. I long for the day when I can communicate to these little girls with words.

Sadly, many people are unfamiliar with the story of Christy by Catherine Marshall; the tale of a young city girl who moves to the Ozark Mountains in the early 1900’s to teach school at a mission. It is based on a true story, and it’s message is so like to what we experience here in Haiti that it has become very meaningful to us here. It was made into a TV series, and watching that and identifying with it has consumed many of our evenings. One thing Christy says in those episodes can explain in a few words what I have been trying to describe in this entry:

“When I left my city home to be a schoolteacher in a backwoods mission, I dreamed of adventure.

I wasn’t ready for the real challenges of life in these mountains. I’d have given up

if not for the children.”

It is so true: even when all seems wrong with the world, and there appears to be no one left to trust; when evil is rampant and your faith in people is shattered, you can look to the children. There is an innocence in them that Jesus spoke of in the gospel of Mark, and it brings hope. I can see now why Dee and Wilckly chose to focus their ministry on the children of Haiti. Sometimes it’s the only way they can keep on going.

“Permit the children to come to Me; do not hinder them;

for the Kingdom of God belongs

to such as these.”

Mark 10:14

A Land of Contrasts...

Saturday, October 3^rd, 2009 10:15 a.m.

I have now been in Haiti a total of twelve days – the longest I have ever been in this country. But it feels as though I have been here for months already. The time passes slowly, but I am never bored. Crash and I were saying just the other day that in America we are always busy but never seem to be getting anything done…here we may not appear busy but things are getting done all the time. And here, down time is really down time. These people know how to rest. When I am taking a break I never feel like I am being lazy…I just feel like I am relaxing. It is wonderful.

School has been going very well. The girls are enjoying it, and they are both doing great. All A’s for the first week! And, our “school room” is only twenty feet from the ocean! There is a wall separating our desks and the shore, but the sound of the waves crashing on the rocky beach is lovely for background noise while I am teaching. Never in a million years did I ever think I would be teaching school on a beach, right next to the Caribbean Sea. That’s God for you. He likes surprises, and I’m totally okay with that! Also, the girls and I are getting to know each other better. I love answering all of their questions, some that have to do with school, and many that don’t, and I ask them questions as well. Ashley has been helping me some with my Creole, which has been very nice, and we’ve had movie nights and song times, and random fun games and such. It has been good.

We are just coming to the end of the rainy season, so it has rained almost every evening since we got here. Yesterday it stormed all afternoon and evening. A thunderstorm over the ocean with mountains and islands for a landscape all around is a picture of God’s might and beauty too marvelous to describe. But I will try. Crash and I went for a swim while it was pouring down rain, and we couldn’t stop smiling the whole time we were out there. The sound of cold raindrops hitting the waves, of thunder crashing high on the mountain tops, the angry sky in a turmoil of blues and grays above us, the dark outline of coconut trees against the cloudy heavens…all only put us in total awe of our Creator. It continues to amaze me that a place of such breathtaking beauty also contains so much danger and heartache. Haiti is truly a land of contrasts. The longer I am here the more I realize that fact.

Well, it is late morning, and as such the generator is not on. My computer is all too quickly running out of battery life, so I guess this journal entry must come to an end.

Until next time,

Shaina Marie

Stories that need to be told...

Sunday, September 28th, 2009 8:15p.m.

“I was looking at the sky, glad the rain had finally stopped. My baby, only two years old, was playing in the dirt just inside the house. Then I heard it; what sounded like waters crashing on a shore, like huge bones breaking. Faster than a truck zooming past on the road, thousands of tons of water carrying mud and debris were rushing down the mountain towards us. I barely had time to think. I grabbed my baby and ran, shouting to the others, my neighbors, in the village. We all fled, but we weren’t fast enough. Soon the water was up to my chest, and my feet were stuck in the mud. I couldn’t move unless the water moved me. I held my baby above my head and screamed, calling for help from anyone, anywhere. All around me others were doing the same. No one could help me; they were all fighting the same battle – a battle for their lives.

We stood that way for hours, my baby and me, both crying, trying not to get sucked underneath the flow. I knew I was going to die. But at least I could try to save my baby’s life. Suddenly a rock struck my foot beneath the water. I cried out as the pain shot up my leg and I stumbled. Catching myself just before I plunged under, I managed to put all of my weight and my baby’s on my other leg. For what seemed like days water, mud, rocks, pieces from houses, and other people flowed by us.

I finally made it to a foundation above the mudflow, where many others had found protection. They took my baby and helped me up. I could no longer stand, so I sat on the edge and looked out over the land, silently watching the water level go down, leaving in its wake a path of devastation greater than anything I’d ever seen in my lifetime. When it was all over I was still alive, and so was my baby, but my house and many others were gone, destroyed….and four bodies were never found. I am so glad to be alive, but I will never forget this day.”

Today we went to the site near Carries where this mudslide occurred. We saw the piles of now dry dirt, rocks and debris, still probably concealing bodies of people lost in the disaster. There were relief workers everywhere, wearing white vests with red crosses. We even saw two other Americans. We talked with a lady who had been caught in the mudflow and had to hold her tiny two year old child above her head to keep it from drowning. They both survived, but many others did not. The above tale is fictionalized, but it is meant to be her story.

I have only seen movies of such things in science class or on the news, but this disaster is so small that it will never get out…unless someone tells it. That lady will probably never have that chance, but I do, and I am going to use it, with her story. It needs to be told. People need to know that these things are real. These people are real. They have hearts that beat just like ours, eyes that see just like ours, fears and worries just like ours, but they go through so much more than us…we will never fully understand, but once we realize this we have come one tiny step closer to comprehending the hardships they endure. And realizing that there is still hope: if we tell the stories, and do something about it.

Shaina Marie

While still on familiar ground...

Monday, September 21st, 2009 9:45 a.m.

Dear ___________________,

As I write this entry, I am sitting on the floor of a friend's apartment. I can hear the buzz of an air conditioner, the water running in the sink as my friend gets ready for the day, and footsteps back and forth across a carpeted floor. All of these are normal morning sounds, but as they will not fall on my ears for many months after this day, I am trying to soak them in as best I can.
Though I will miss these familiar and comfortable sounds, I am excited and ready to grow accustomed to the sights and sounds of a Haitian morning. Some of these I already know and love: bare feet on the pavement, rossters crowing at the crack of dawn, pots and pans clinking as breakfast is prepared, and the voices of the people as they speak in beautiful, rhythmic Creole to each other.
I am thrilled to be able to share with you my adventures in the land of Haiti, and I pray that these entries will touch your heart as the stories I will tell have touched mine. Even as I strive to teach the girls, I know God will be giving me many lessons of my own while I am there, and I will do my best to share these with you. But while I am still on famliar turf I would like to say hello to all, and goodbye to all...look for my next entry, which will be posted from across the ocean! I love all of you very much, and you are all in my thoughts and prayers.

Shaina Marie

"By awesome deeds you answer us in righteousness, O God of our salvation, You who are the trust of all the ends of the earth and of the farthest sea; who establishes the mountains by His strength, being girded with might; who stills the roaring of the seas, the roaring of their waves and the tumult of the peoples. They who dwell in the ends of the earth stand in awe of Your signs; You make the dawn and the sunset shout for joy."

Psalm 65:5-8