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