Here’s the setting. I am sitting here on the front porch and hearing the big trucks roll down the street—lining up to get into the market for tomorrow. Tomorrow is the big day for market at the Dajabon/Ouanaminthe border market. Whew, people on top of people. Commerce. People and more commerce. That was my first introduction to Haiti when I walked across the border with Danita.
Honestly there was a great sense of hesitancy about staying here in the mission house on the main—and when I say main I mean the only paved road—that goes from the border to a major northern city in Haiti—Cap Haitian. We hope to take a trip over there to see some Haitian sites. So what I am hearing right now are mopeds, motorcycles, Creole in tones that sound angry, harsh, all the way to kids laughing along the way. I hear Haitian music from the Night Club across the street. I smell something burning—usually always something burning somewhere. I smell something that is not something I want to smell sometimes but for the most part I have to say it’s quite entertaining and a great sociological arena seat to watch the Haitian world go by. They don’t have any idea that they are being prayed for as they go about their business. Worry about their food or more seriously if there will be food for them and their children. Guess what. NO complaining about food from anyone around here. We are very blessed.
Oh—by-the-way. This is funny, every night the electricity (well hopefully every night) comes on and runs from 8 PM to midnight. It actually was supposed to come on at 6 PM and did when it first started (a few weeks ago) but now it’s 8 PM. Well—we are able to charge the batteries/inverter to run the fans all night as long as the street “public” utilities can come on. It seems that the generator burns up batteries and damages them too quickly to rely on the generator to recharge them. It literally is a bank of batteries. Anyway, I got so excited that I left the water running in the bucket where I was doing hand washing (gentle bucket cycle) and the back porch flooded—but then I also left the back door gate open and Snickers the dog came running through the house—to join the hooting and hollering about the electricity, but with the glad hearts about public utilities on an extremely hot day—everyone graciously took my mess in stride.
Worship today was a blessing. Appropriate enough, the guest preacher today was the same preacher that preached Palm Sunday when I was here the first time. They have a new Worship minister now that also interprets the service. He loves American artists worship songs and has a very interesting perspective on that. He really believes that singing only Haitian songs limits the Church in Haiti from knowing and joining the global Church . . .wow. How about that? So I guess that should mean that our churches should be finding worship songs from all cultures to sing as well. Pastor Sam is staying in the Mission House with us and we have all grown to truly consider him our brother and feel a great sense of kindred spirits. Levi loves him.
We also have been sharing the house with a remarkable lady. In our conversations we discovered that our paths crossed about 10 years ago in an inner city mission in NY. She was the office Manager for Metro Ministries and I was there for a weekend visit and participate in their inner city children’s program. She is like a mom. While she worked at Metro—she is a southerner from Cheraw SC and makes great iced tea. She could be retired. But she chose to come to Haiti and work in the mission field. She goes out and starts the generator. Walks up and down the Haitian streets. Loves on the kids and sweats from the sweltering heat with the best of us. Joanne is a gift. God has placed a burden for a special needs child that is brought to church by his aunt. This young lady is a such a servant. This little guy is a hydrocephalic baby and is untreated—the aftercare for such a surgery is so meticulously bacteria free that it alone makes this kind of intervention questionable. This little guy’s head along probably weighs 25lbs. It broke our hearts to see him as his little body seemed withered in comparison to his painfully tight scalp. Joanne provides formula for this aunt who has taken on her nephew who was left for dead at birth. We went over to Dajabon to get new bottles and formula. We picked up some baby wipes in hope that they might provide some comfort to him in the heat.
The “least of these” are everywhere I know. You don’t have to come to Haiti to find them. But we are here in Haiti where there’s no prejudices or cultures of origin that cloud out perspectives—or that Satan might use to veil our sight. It’s clearly right here. We are His hands and we are His feet. We feel His heart.
Honestly there was a great sense of hesitancy about staying here in the mission house on the main—and when I say main I mean the only paved road—that goes from the border to a major northern city in Haiti—Cap Haitian. We hope to take a trip over there to see some Haitian sites. So what I am hearing right now are mopeds, motorcycles, Creole in tones that sound angry, harsh, all the way to kids laughing along the way. I hear Haitian music from the Night Club across the street. I smell something burning—usually always something burning somewhere. I smell something that is not something I want to smell sometimes but for the most part I have to say it’s quite entertaining and a great sociological arena seat to watch the Haitian world go by. They don’t have any idea that they are being prayed for as they go about their business. Worry about their food or more seriously if there will be food for them and their children. Guess what. NO complaining about food from anyone around here. We are very blessed.
Oh—by-the-way. This is funny, every night the electricity (well hopefully every night) comes on and runs from 8 PM to midnight. It actually was supposed to come on at 6 PM and did when it first started (a few weeks ago) but now it’s 8 PM. Well—we are able to charge the batteries/inverter to run the fans all night as long as the street “public” utilities can come on. It seems that the generator burns up batteries and damages them too quickly to rely on the generator to recharge them. It literally is a bank of batteries. Anyway, I got so excited that I left the water running in the bucket where I was doing hand washing (gentle bucket cycle) and the back porch flooded—but then I also left the back door gate open and Snickers the dog came running through the house—to join the hooting and hollering about the electricity, but with the glad hearts about public utilities on an extremely hot day—everyone graciously took my mess in stride.
Worship today was a blessing. Appropriate enough, the guest preacher today was the same preacher that preached Palm Sunday when I was here the first time. They have a new Worship minister now that also interprets the service. He loves American artists worship songs and has a very interesting perspective on that. He really believes that singing only Haitian songs limits the Church in Haiti from knowing and joining the global Church . . .wow. How about that? So I guess that should mean that our churches should be finding worship songs from all cultures to sing as well. Pastor Sam is staying in the Mission House with us and we have all grown to truly consider him our brother and feel a great sense of kindred spirits. Levi loves him.
We also have been sharing the house with a remarkable lady. In our conversations we discovered that our paths crossed about 10 years ago in an inner city mission in NY. She was the office Manager for Metro Ministries and I was there for a weekend visit and participate in their inner city children’s program. She is like a mom. While she worked at Metro—she is a southerner from Cheraw SC and makes great iced tea. She could be retired. But she chose to come to Haiti and work in the mission field. She goes out and starts the generator. Walks up and down the Haitian streets. Loves on the kids and sweats from the sweltering heat with the best of us. Joanne is a gift. God has placed a burden for a special needs child that is brought to church by his aunt. This young lady is a such a servant. This little guy is a hydrocephalic baby and is untreated—the aftercare for such a surgery is so meticulously bacteria free that it alone makes this kind of intervention questionable. This little guy’s head along probably weighs 25lbs. It broke our hearts to see him as his little body seemed withered in comparison to his painfully tight scalp. Joanne provides formula for this aunt who has taken on her nephew who was left for dead at birth. We went over to Dajabon to get new bottles and formula. We picked up some baby wipes in hope that they might provide some comfort to him in the heat.
The “least of these” are everywhere I know. You don’t have to come to Haiti to find them. But we are here in Haiti where there’s no prejudices or cultures of origin that cloud out perspectives—or that Satan might use to veil our sight. It’s clearly right here. We are His hands and we are His feet. We feel His heart.
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