Behind the mountains there are more mountains...

Something I quickly learned during my first few months in Haiti is that, according to the Haitians, the more proverbs you know, the more Haitian you are considered to be. There are countless Haitian proverbs, covering all topics from riding a mule to the contrast of the poor vs. the wealthy. My Haitian family, especially Fre Marc, our proverb guru, did their best to ensure that I was as Haitian as possible before I left for the States for the summer. I learned most of them that fateful day while traveling on said mules. One, however, that will now no doubt stick with me the rest of my life, is this: "Deye mon, gin mon." Translation: "Behind the mountains, there are more mountains." The double meaning behind this statement is what caught my attention in the first place. Not only does this refer to Haiti's terrain, it is also speaking of the hardships Haitians face. In other words, beyond every trial in our lives there is always another trial waiting. Depressing, yes, when looked at in that way, but unfortunately it is a perspective that is common for the Haitian people to have. It is all they have ever known. Without experiencing it for myself, I knew I would never fully be able to comprehend this proverb, but through the events of the past two months I think I have begun to reach an understanding of it.

Let me explain: it was Sunday, May 16^th, the last full day the college mission team would be with us, and the day before Dee and I were to fly back to the U.S. for the summer. We were celebrating the Lord’s Day at our newest church on a mountain in Kamicho (the very same place where we mounted the donkeys that day last October), a church that was started because one man decided he wanted to become a follower of Christ, and told others. The small congregation had grown enormously, until now, on this Sunday, the tiny shelter built with large sticks and covered by a tarp we’d given them at the first service, was packed to overflowing…perhaps two hundred Haitians were standing or sitting, singing their hearts out in thankfulness to their risen Savior. The joy was evident on every face. After the service we were able to set up a mini clinical, where people from the area could bring their sick or injured loved ones to receive limited medical care from the two nurses who had come with the team. This drew an even larger crowd, and lasted for over two hours in the hot sun. By the end of the afternoon, though our spirits were high, we were physically exhausted and so ready for a relaxing evening at the beach.

We all piled in the back of our dump truck and headed down the mountain. We were less than fifteen minutes from the smooth, flat road, when all of a sudden the truck lurched and started picking up speed. Then everything and everyone got deathly quiet. We were flying at a downhill slope, steep drop-offs on both sides, reaching speeds of 60 mph, and we realized the brakes had given out and the engine had failed. I think everyone was in denial that we were going to crash until it actually happened, because no one said a word, and very few of us even braced ourselves. A few of us remember thinking, “We’re not going to make it off this mountain alive…” and I’m sure that is what the devil intended. But God had different plans. For one, He made sure Wilckly was driving that day…Wilckly didn’t panic, and he was able to maneuver the truck down the road and around a ninety degree turn that by all human standards we should never have made, and stop it by running the side into a cliff wall. The inertia from the impact threw the truck to its side and tossed most of the twenty-seven of us out of it like rag dolls, but once again we saw God’s hand at work. Though many were severely injured, of the eight who were okay, four were Dee, Wilckly, me, and Seth (one of the nurses)…those who could speak Creole and/or administer medical care to the others.

It was no coincidence that this happened five minutes away from a mission with a clinic that had American doctors, medics, and nurses…who wouldn’t have been there except for the earthquake. Everyone was stabilized there and transferred in ambulances (another non-existent item in Haiti before the earthquake) to the University of Miami Field hospital in Port-au-Prince, which was set up…you guessed it…after the quake. In no way am I saying that we are thankful that such a tragic natural disaster occurred five months before, but this is one very clear example of God using it for good. Some of us should not, in all human reasoning, have made it off of the mountain that day.

Ten of the Americans were able to fly home on the originally scheduled commercial flight, but four had to be medevaced to a hospital in Miami for further care. And this is where the mountains come in. One of those was my sister, one was my best friend. The others are friends as well and have had a huge part in our mission stateside. In the days following, we experienced doubt, uncertainty, many ups and downs while praying and waiting for these people to heal. Though some were released a few days later, it wasn’t until this past Saturday, six weeks later, that we could say every American was home.

And on the Haitian side the trials have been just as, if not more, difficult. Two men each had the lower parts of one of their legs amputated, and Pastor Marc almost lost his arms. He is healing quickly, but is still in need of plastic surgery, and there is a risk of infection if he doesn’t receive the proper care. We are desperately trying to get him here to the States. Two of the Haitians who were in the wreck are still in the hospital. Then, only days later, four of our people were admitted to the hospital with varying stages of Malaria, one of them being Marc’s two year old daughter, Alexandra. Since and Dee and I were both here with the team, Wilckly was dealing with all of this on his own.

Through it all, however, we have not stopped believing that God is sovereign. Obviously whatever God was doing through us at that church and in those people on that mountain truly scared Satan, because he went to some real trouble to try to stop us. But our God is greater, and His ways are higher. We are being taught to say, like Job, whose experiences we can now better understand, “Though He slay me, yet I will trust in Him…He also shall be my salvation.” (Job 13:15-16)

As I write about mountains another verse comes to mind: “Assuredly, I say to you, if you have faith as a mustard seed, you will say to this mountain, ‘Move from here to there,’ and it will move; and nothing will be impossible for you.” (Matthew 17:20) But I have been learning that often times God requires a different kind of faith: one that asks us not to move the mountain, but to climb it. This takes such perseverance, energy, stamina, endurance, and determination which as humans we do not have, and many times do not even want to have. That is when we must say, “God, I can’t do this…but You can,” and with that humble realization, we soon find that He has taken over, and it is no longer us climbing, it is Him.

This is why we can stand, facing the overwhelmingly huge mountain in front of us, knowing full well that behind this there will only be another…and still have hope. Because our God is bigger. And He is never going to leave. Those truths are what will carry us through, what will give us the strength to continue, even when the way is seemingly impossible. We know Who has the victory in the end. And we are on the winning side.

Please continue to pray for Blessing Hearts International and all those involved.

We are in dire need of the support of our fellow believers…please stand with

us as we face these difficult times.

Morning by morning...

Sunday, May 2^nd, 2010 7:00 p.m.

Tonight as I sit in our new uphill office, listening to the musical tinkling of my wind chime, blown by the Caribbean breeze, I am reflecting upon the events and emotions this past month has generated. Never before have I been so challenged and stretched, so forced to rely wholly on my God. Only in the last few weeks have I truly learned what it means to trust in God as my Shield, my Rock, my Comfort, and my Hope.

One aspect of being a missionary, one that I had not counted on encountering, has been made altogether clear to me since my friend headed back to the States. Loneliness. This struggle is something many people who are not on the field do not fully comprehend. Being away from family and friends, often without the equipment the rest of the world has for instant communication, or at least with very limited technology, and faced with the constant spiritual and physical battles of serving in another, often destitute, culture, often brings waves of this emotion. Missionaries are not superheroes, as is a common misconception, and they feel normal emotions such as sadness, joy, discouragement, and hope just like everyone else does.

But even though I have had quite a battle with this feeling, God has been faithful. Without Him I would never make it. And He reminds me of that fact daily. Because of the absence of the companionship I have been, really, so spoiled with, I have been required to lean on Him completely, to allow Him to be, not only my Father and Savior and Lover, but also my Friend and Comforter. Though at times circumstances seem hopeless and all strength is gone, God is here, holding my hand and leading me through. Without that knowledge I would be lost. This I know, all too well.

Great is Thy faithfulness, O God my Father.

There is no shadow of turning with Thee.

Thou changest not, Thy compassions, they fail not.

As Thou has been Thou forever wilt be.

Great is Thy faithfulness!

Great is Thy faithfulness!

Morning by morning, new mercies I see.

All I have needed, Thy hand hath provided.

Great is Thy faithfulness, Lord unto me.

Cleanliness in a Fourth World Country...

Saturday, April 17th, 2010 10:00 a.m.

Another difference we deal with here in Haiti is the topic of cleanliness...I've decided to focus on one aspect of it: bathing. Though at the beach we sometimes had running water, even there just taking a bath required more energy than we often wanted to put out. Now that we are at the uphill property we are back to taking bucket baths. Let me enlighten you on the amount of effort a "bucket bath" requires:

First we decide we want to expend the energy bathing takes...usually this means either the heat has become completely unbearable and the only relief we'll get is pouring cool water over ourselves, or we just returned from a long ride in the truck and are covered with dust and exhaust smoke from other vehicles on the road.

Next we gather our clothes and begin the search for a towel and soap. We have places for these things, but when eight to twelve people use the same shower these items are easily misplaced. Twenty minutes later we walk behind the house, laden with our accessories, and upon seeing the padlocked door, realize we forgot to ask for the keys. After a few minutes of searching for the person who last had them, we open the door, place our items on the 1 ft. by 1 ft. "table" inside, and look in the bucket...no water.

Then the battle begins...is there water in the barrel? Not enough. Does the reservoir have enough water? Yes. Is the hose connected? Not yet. To connect the hose someone must go around the house, outside the gated yard, up the driveway to the reservoir. Once the hose is connected, and the water is slowly flowing out into the bucket, we wait about twenty more minutes until it is full. Finally our bath is ready. Once the door is shut behind us and we are sure nothing else can delay it we look into the bucket once more and realize there is no cup with which to dump said water on ourselves. By now we are too exhausted to look for one on our own, so we call out the door for a "gode" and wait for someone to find one, clean it, and hand it in to us. Now our bath is ready.

And finally, fifteen minutes later, we emerge clean and cooled off...at least for about seven minutes.

Internet in a Fourth World Country...

Saturday, April 10th, 2010 12:15 p.m.

For a switch, I have decided to give a brief description of one of the differences brought about by living in a country such as this. Through this, I hope to provide a better understanding of what it takes for us just to send an e-mail or update a blog.

Around 2:00 p.m., after we have eaten lunch, since it's the hottest time of the day, and some people have finally left the yard for a while, giving us a small break from meetings, distributions, cleaning, and supervising construction, we decide we'll be able to spend some time on the coveted internet, which at times is our only access to the "outside world." First I have to find the keys so I can open the office where we keep the inverter. I unlock three concessive doors to reach said office, only to discover that the inverter is out of juice. The next step is to find two or more of the boys who can roll the huge generator outside and start it to give us electricity and also re-charge the inverter. Most of the boys are helping with the construction work or uphill, so half an hour later, they finally make it down to the yard to commense the "delco."

After making sure the inverter is set to charge and the extension cord is plugged in I go back inside, again unlock two of the before mentioned doors to retrieve the internet modem, printer, and computers and cords. Carrying all of these items, I mosey on out to the back of the house, where we have a screened-in tent for our office, complete with two desks, two plastic chairs, and a power strip for all of our devices requiring electricity. I take both laptops from their bags and plug them in, then fit all four wires into the back of the internet modem, plug it into the power source, and connect it to my laptop. Just as I sit down to turn on my computer, the generator shuts down. I send for Smith again to come find out what is wrong with it, and he works on re-wiring the starter while I type out an e-mail using the last fifteen minutes of charge on my computer.

Another twenty minutes goes by, and finally we have energy again. It is now 4:00 p.m. I click on the little "e" icon for internet access, and it refuses to connect me. I turn off the internet modem, restart my computer, and repeat the above step. Google.com miraculously appears on the screen! Ten minutes later my e-mail account has loaded, and I am able to begin reading and replying to my mail. When I am finished with my work, I call Dee and she is able to spend some time on the internet herself. Just before dark we close everything down and turn on the inverter, now fully charged so the yard can be lit during the night...another chapter in the saga of our internet activites has come to a close.

Easter weekend...

April 5th, 2010 2:00 p.m.

Believe it or not, Easter is celebrated in Haiti. In fact, the Haitians are more serious about this holiday than most Americans. Everyone had the entire weekend off, which means all of our construction projects came to a standstill, something we weren't quite prepared for, since Easter seemed to come upon us so suddenly this year. But it turned out for the best, as we all got a much needed rest from the constant meetings with people, running errands, and disributing food and supplies.

Sunday morning dawned bright and early, and though we didn't have a sunrise service like I am used to from my home church, our church begins very soon after the sun has risen over the tip of our mountain. I had spent the night before copying Bible verses into Creole on slips of paper and placing them inside twelve Resurrection eggs (plastic eggs containing little items and verses that tell the Easter story) that we had amazingly found inside the container...we found them just in time, too. God is so awesome. Dee used them to teach Sunday school, and the kids had lots of fun walking one at a time to the front of the class to open the eggs and read the verses inside. In the morning service we sang quite a few songs that I knew, including my favorite Easter hymn, Because He Lives. It was just as beautiful sung in another language. After church we handed candy out to all of the people...no Easter egg hunts, but they still got candy!

That afternoon a group of us drove to the beach and swam, relaxed under the shade of the coconut trees, and ate a picnic lunch on the sand. It was the first time I had been anywhere for more than two hours without Dee, Crash, or Wilckly, and I was very grateful my Creole has improved so much. However, I greatly enjoyed that time spent with the people...even in those few hours I was able to build relationships with some of them who before then I had only said "good morning" to each day. God is definitely using this time to bring me closer to the people, as well as to Himself.

Of course the weekend was over all too quickly, and this morning masons and welders are all over the property, generators are running, hammers pounding, and ground shaking all over again. Back to work it is! Praise God for the rest and calmness of the weekend, and for the time we had to meditate on His sacrifice for us. It is so true, that "because He lives, we can face tomorrow" no matter what it holds.

Moving uphill...

Tuesday, March 23rd, 2010 3:45 p.m.

It was a normal day in Haiti, and we were busy constructing a new tarp roof for the yard, when a sudden phone call interrupted our plans for the evening and the rest of the week...probably longer. Apparently in the short time Wilckly had been gone from the construction sites uphill a man had stolen half our cement and broken apart our newly laid foundation, then called him to brag about it. Wilckly and Dee immediately left to meet with the officials about having him arrested, and the rest of us marched uphill to assess the damage. When they returned, Wilckly announced his decision that from now on at least one of us must be uphill at all times...and so the long-awaited move finally took place.

That first night we slept in a half-finished house with only a tarp for a roof...we were hoping for no roof so we could fall asleep under the stars, but as soon as the men finished putting up the tarp rain began to fall...once again, as always, God knew what He was doing. It was a cool and quiet night, and so peaceful compared to the yard filled with crying babies and barking dogs. And then we woke up to a gorgeous sunrise over the ocean, which we can see from the foot of the mountain where the land is being cleared. So beautiful.

Since then, every night, and taking turns throughout the day, we have been uphill, overlooking construction, painting, and organizing supplies in containers. I can hardly believe how different, how developed, the land looks, even from two months ago when I first returned here. No matter how badly some people here want our plans to go awry, God is continually showing us His sovereignty by providing ways for everything to get done, even when it seems impossible. And at the same time, He has blessed us with a somewhat peaceful place where we can get away every once in a while. His grace never ceases to astound me.

A new account of my typical day in Haiti...

Wednesday, March 10^th, 2010 6:15p.m.

The time has come once again, for a descriptive account of my

daily life here in Haiti this year. Now that we have come to some

point of consistency (as much consistency as is possible

in this country) I am able to give one:

I am pulled out a light sleep by the sound of clear, passionate Haitian voices carried through the cool, early morning air to my ears. I roll over on my cot, pull the blanket up to my chin and slowly open my eyes. It is still dark, the sky is sprinkled with stars, it is maybe 5:00 a.m., and Taz Kafe Sho (“Hot Cup of Coffee”), the daily before-dawn church service, is in full swing. I fall back asleep listening to the lively melodies the people raise up in praise of their Savior.

Around 6:30 a.m. I awake again, this time to broad daylight, puppies barking as they play-fight on the ground near our beds, guinea hens screeching, goats running out the gate on their way to the open fields, the boys pushing squeaky wheelbarrows filled with trash to be burned, and ladies rushing around to clean up and prepare breakfast. I make my bed, greet everyone I pass with “Bonjou,” and ask hopefully if it is possible for the ladies to make some dlo sho (“hot water”) for my bath. This is not by any means any everyday occurrence, but every once in a while we are granted the delightful opportunity to enjoy a warm bath after a cold, 65 degree night.

After a bath, devotions, and a breakfast of of spaghetti and fresh bread just bought on the street, the day has officially begun. For me there are papers to file, distribution lists to type, financial records to keep, rice and beans to measure and bag, e-mails to send, and blog entries to post. We take turns on the computers, internet and copier while the generator is running, and do our best to take advantage of the limited time we have with electricity.

Many times while in the middle of one of the above mentioned projects construction materials for one of the numerous construction projects Wilckly is conducting run out, and I am asked to go on an errand to buy more. I grab my backpack and some money, throw on a skirt over my shorts, and Elves, our driver, Smith, one of the boys, and I hop in the dump truck and drive to the nearby town of Williamson to “ashte” some cement, sand, rebar, or tin. Usually we stop on the way back to refuel the truck and buy some Cokes at the gas station, then it’s back to the yard to unload.

By now it is mid-afternoon, and our typical lunch of rice and beans and chicken (sometimes with a pleasant surprise of corn, carrots, or even salad on the side!) is served. After lunch we relax for a little while…I read, write, or play with the kids…then we finish up any work leftover from the morning. Very quickly the sun sinks low in the western sky, and all five of us: Kiki, Dee, Crash, Crystal, and I make the hike uphill to look over the work the men have completed that day. Already the land looks so different: it has been cleared of rocks and brush and thorns, a path made for the truck, tin fences are up, a foundation has been laid for a house and another is in progress, and two empty containers sit near the bottom, ready to be used for storage. We sit on the foundation, talking about the worries and stresses of the day, laughing and encouraging each other, and watching the sunset create a brilliant tapestry of golden-oranges and rosy-pinks over the cerulean blue of the ocean.

When it is dark we walk back down the mountain, followed by our ever-faithful watch dogs, and enter the gate, to be greeted by the fifty or so people who still spend every night underneath the tarps on the ground in our yard. A couple of hours later, when everyone has finally settled down, we don our warm clothes, make sure the inverter has enough charge to keep the yard lit all night, and make our way to our beds where we read, talk or listen to music until we fall asleep. The night is interspersed with sounds of babies crying, roosters crowing (by the way, it is an enormous falsehood that roosters only crow at the rising of the sun), and seven dogs all barking at once when they don’t recognize someone who has entered the yard, but for the most part we are able to sleep, and awaken – sometimes refreshed, sometimes not so much - ready for the next day.

What To Do When It Rains...After An Earthquake...In Haiti:

Sunday, February 28th, 2010

Step 1: Sit inside.

Step 2: When the Haitians "remind" you for the fifty-seventh time that it isn't safe to sit inside, re-locate to the outdoor office.

Step 3: Place large tarp over the "office," which includes: you, a desk, a chair, a computer, the internet modem, and cords.

Step 4: Watch a movie with some friends in the office under the tarp while munching on Pringles, canned peaches, and candy.

Step 5: Move office back inside when the light rain becomes a downpour and threatens to flood the theater.

Step 6: Dry off all electronic devices and cords.

Step 7: Decide it's time for bed.

Step 8: Move beds away from torn areas in tarps.

Step 9: Attempt to fall asleep, only to be rudely interrupted by raindrops that have made their way through holes in the tarps and

onto your face.

Step 10: Move beds again.

Step 11: Re-position yourself and the blankets on your bed so as to not repeat step 9.

Step 12: Attempt to fall asleep - again - to the sound of rain on a tarp...and pouring off of a tarp...onto you.

Our War Is Not With Flesh and Blood...

Saturday, February 13^th, 2010 4:00p.m.

“We are human, but we don’t wage war with human plans and methods.

We use God’s mighty weapons, not mere wordly weapons,

to knock down the devil’s strongholds.”

2 Corinthians 10:3-5

From the beginning, since we first arrived here, obstacle after obstacle has been dropped in our path. I knew Satan had his grip on this country, but never before have I seen evidence of this so plainly, right in my face, as it has been the last three weeks.

Thursday morning we finally made arrangements with our Dominican contact, and we quickly packed our bags and loaded up the trucks to go pick up our first big load of food and supplies. The long drive through northern Haiti was beautiful but as full of contrast as the rest of the country. We were surprised to see that Cap Haitian, the “tourist town” was just as filthy and destitute as the nation’s capital city. Every time my eyes are met once again with the harsh realities of this fourth-world country I have to fight waves of despair that rush over me like a flood. The enemy is very crafty in using these thoughts of hopelessness to discourage us from our work.

But when assaulting our emotions doesn’t work he turns to alternate, and more outright methods. Our pick-up truck broke down an innumerable amount of times before we finally reached our destination at the Dominican border. Then we faced a frustrating three hour wait while the border guards demanded more money, gave us more papers to be signed, and required more of our time before we could cross over. It seemed as though the devil was working overtime just to make sure we’d never get that much needed food. And then, when it seemed nothing could make it worse, and we’d received clearance to enter the Dominican Republic, the truck refused to start, again. The patience and peace displayed under such circumstances by those around me were astounding. The enemy would not prevail by gaining control over our attitudes as well.

When the engine was fixed we met our contact, loaded up the trucks ‘til they were near to overflowing with food, and were soon on our way back to the border, driving as fast as legally possible in order to arrive before the gates closed. But just as we pulled up, the guard who was going to work it out for us to get through was driving away, his shift over…and the border was closed.

At this point all we could do was laugh. At least we got to spend the night in a house with beds, blankets, good food, internet, phones, and electricity! And Crash and I got to sleep on the roof with a spray of stars across the night sky for a ceiling. Again I was grateful beyond words for God’s graciousness in knowing that “we are but dust” and that sometimes we need a break, even when such a thing may not be in our plans.

In the morning we rose early and made our way back to the border, only to wait once more while clearance papers for the rental vehicle were issued. What else would the devil come up with? Praise God that He is in ultimate control, for though we weren’t allowed in until four hours after we got there, and we had to send the rental car on its own happy way, piling all fourteen people in our three trucks for the ten hour drive, we finally made it home.

During my first three months serving in Haiti God showed me His unconditional love, His unfailing compassion, His enduring faithfulness. He taught me how He deals in His relationships with people. Since I have returned the lessons have been more blatant, and much more difficult to learn. He has been teaching me now how He expects our relationship to be, and how I am to deal with other people. I am to love the unlovable, those that in my estimations do not deserve love. I am to trust Him even when He gives me no answers for the “why’s?” I am to hope even when despair is imminent, and there seems to be no reason left for hope. Because there is.

For…though the fig tree should not blossom and there be no fruit on the vines,

Though the yield of the olive should fail and the fields produce no food, though the

flock should be cut off from the fold and there be no cattle in the stalls, yet I will rejoice

in the God of my salvation: The Lord God is my strength, and He has made my feet

like hinds’ feet and has made me walk on high places.”

Habakkuk 3:17-19

And His will prevails. And we now have the food needed for our first distribution.

“But he who takes refuge in Me will inherit the land and will possess My holy mountain.

And it will be said, ‘Build up, build up, prepare the way, remove every obstacle out of the way of my people.’”

Isaiah 57:13-14

My First Week Back in Haiti...

Friday, January 29, 2010 8:00 p.m.

It was still dark when my eyes opened, awakened by the sound of beautiful Haitian voices unashamedly praising their Lord. I rolled over, too weary to get up yet, and tried to ignore the dampness of my sheets and pillow while listening to the enchanting melody. When light began to touch the sky I sat up in bed, my head almost touching the tarp hanging above us, and my eyes took in the sights that the blackness of the previous night had prevented me from viewing completely.

A large portion of our dusty yard was covered with blankets, sheets, carpets, and a few cots. Over a hundred people had slept here, and now they were rolling up their bedding and preparing to start their day. The air was heavy with dew, and cold – for Haiti – and everyone was moving slowly. I gathered my things, managed to procure the keys so I could find some toilet paper, and headed to the door-less outhouses. Roosters were crowing, turkeys and chickens pecking for food on the ground, dogs barking every time a stranger entered the gate, and Jhemson was leading our eight goats from their pen to the yard. I felt like I was in the middle of a movie.

That first day back was very eye-opening for me. I tried not to act as overwhelmed as I felt, but I was quickly coming to realize how truly sheltered my last three months at the beach had been. I was now seeing Haiti as it really was, because I was living as the rest of the people do. As always, it was the children that captured my heart. Precious little seven year old Melissa, whose mother left her to the care of Dee and Wickly (we don’t even know who her father is); Marc and Monique’s daughter Alexandra, the little princess; Ladiminka, the newest addition to the Dorces’ family, from the Dominican Republic; and Dadu, an adorable, quiet, little guy, whose pouty face is rarely without a smile. Little glimpses I’ve caught of the reality of their everyday lives have already broken my heart, and I am overflowing with a desire to show them every bit of attention and affection that I can while I am here.

My heart was beset by these emotions, and my mind was instantly overwhelmed as I observed how much work needed to be done. After a very long week of almost no connection with the outside world, finances dwindling, and people coming to them in droves for help, Dee and Wilckly were doing all they could just to house and feed those under their care. We need a bulldozer to prepare land for building temporary dwellings for all those needing shelter, we need food, food, and more food, we need storage containers in which to put all of the food, we need money, since the only places to receive transfers right now not only have lines a mile long, but really aren’t safe, either. The last week has been spent assessing these situations, making our plans of action, and waiting. Lots of waiting. This was not new to me, as I was first introduced to Haiti with its motto: “Hurry up and wait.” It has been no different this time, even in the wake of such a tremendous disaster.

It is actually very difficult to make these people out in the country realize how devastated their country is. Other than their fear of sleeping indoors, to them, life should go on as normal. And they try to make it so. But even though on the outside everything may seem to have gone back to the usual routine, everyone knows, deep down, that it hasn’t. Everyone walks around in a kind of daze, as if still unbelieving, in denial.

However, we are refusing to be discouraged. Even though every day seems to bring more closed doors and obstacles, there are always enough reasons to hope and keep smiling. God is going to use this horrible event for good, and we cling to that promise.

Hope in the midst of devestation...

Wednesday, January 27th, 2010 9:35p.m.

Yesterday we went to Port-au-Prince. We had to weave our way through back roads, around rubble, and over cracks and dips in the roads just to get to the airport. Though I had seen the devastation on TV, it was as though my eyes were new to the sights. House after house, building after building, walls, roads…collapsed, broken, lying in pieces. And it seemed so random: many a house untouched stood adjacent to another that had been flattened. I didn’t even want to think how many people had been inside – how many could still be under there.

We stopped at two tent camps to talk with people and take pictures. At one, the oh-so-intelligent Americans had decided to drive into the center of it, with an open truck full of food. They had no idea what they were getting themselves into. Of course, there were about twenty soldiers standing around the truck with guns, so they were managing to keep some kind of order. The other camp, which was farther from the airport, had received no aid that we knew of. Every single person in it had lost at least one child in the quake. They were hungry, thirsty, tired, and discouraged. We saw many of these refugee camps; the people had not seen one relief worker and were left to scrounge for their own food and water and construct their own makeshift tents with a few sticks, some ratty blankets and thin sheets.

It made me sick to my stomach when after we drove through these desolate areas we pulled into the airport and saw boxes piled ten feet high, fields and containers full of food, just sitting there. People come to help for a few days, stacking and unloading boxes of supplies, probably most never venture inside the city, then leave again, after giving themselves a little pat on the back, saying, “Look what I did for poor little Haiti.”

Perhaps I sound bitter…no, I am not bitter, only sorely disappointed. Everyone seems to think that this country, which was the poorest country in the western hemisphere even before the earthquake, and that had a broken and corrupt government already, will pick itself up within weeks. This is not only extremely optimistic, it is unrealistic. It will be years, decades, before Haiti will be on its feet, not again, but for the first time.

However, in the midst of this discouraging situation, there is hope. This is an opportunity for Haiti to change for the better, now that the rest of the world has finally noticed her. I only pray that the rest of the world will not fumble its chance to help.

Thursday, January 14th, 2010

Dear Friends,

I am doing my best to cover all the bases so that everyone who is receiving any of my updates will know what is going on. By now most of the world knows of the disaster that occurred in Haiti just a day and a half ago. I was scheduled to fly back down there the day after the earthquake hit. I am still here in the States, with a re-scheduled flight for Thursday, January 31st, and we are doing our best here to gather the much needed supplies and funds to bring back with us.

A note of praise: we finally heard from the Dorces and they are all safe. They were actually about two hours north of Carries (which is 50 mi. from Port-au-Prince) when it happened, and though they felt it, they, and everyone back at the beach in Carries were safe. They have had floods of wounded, homeless people coming to them for aid, and they are quickly running out of the small amount of supplies they did have. Please pray, and keep on praying, that they will have the energy, wisdom, and resources to help wherever they can. They are desperately in need of help and supplies, and right now the best we can do for them is to pray and gather these supplies. God is sovereign, and they are in His hands. He has placed them there for such a time as this, and He has put Crash and I here in the States to make it possible for supplies and funds to get to them. Praise Him for His all-perfect ways and timing!

I will not be updating my Blog as often as Facebook and e-mail, so if you would like to hear the more frequent updates, please send me an e-mail at smarie87@gmail.com.