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 16th, 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.
