In the Shadow of His Wings

Welcome home

2012-02-11T12:03:00.001-05:00

When you have to fight with the taxi guy enroute about the price because he wants double...

When you notice that every gas station is jammed full of cars, because there's a diesel shortage...

When you have a whole suitcase full of new clothes, shoes, toothbrushes, a kitchen faucet, chocolate and other miscellaneous items that are cheaper in the U.S...

When your yard guy casually announces that he couldn't come mid-week because his niece died in childbirth...

That's how you know you're home. Welcome back, us. We had a great vacation, but all sarcasm aside, it's good to be home.

The perfect spot

2012-02-05T19:33:00.001-05:00

We're in Florida for a bit of vacation, and right now, it's the perfect place to be. See, I'm still a lot "here and there." I relish the break. Haiti grates on you after a while, and I've been feeling the need for a rest, a change of pace.

But Florida is perfect for an "in-between" girl like me...because it's a little bit of both worlds, too. The drivers here? They're terrible. Unlike Haiti, it's high-speed idiocy, but still...it reminds me of "home." Like Haiti, it's kind of palm tree-ish scrub brush-ish semi-tropical topography. They are both a bit ugly in my book, but to each his own.

But it has enough of my American culture and customs to satisfy that longing for the familiar. I saw a squirrel this morning and freaked out a little. David read a newspaper in English. And the wi-fi in the Fort Lauderdale airport is faster than the Internet I pay $60 a month for in Haiti. My feet are squeaky clean, and the shower temperature was completely adjustable.

But the under-her-breath Creole of our cashier at Wendy's yesterday still made me smile. And I still had to make myself drink out of the tap. And I still compulsively sanitize my hands and turn off the lights.

So in this moment of blessed rest, at least I'm in the perfect spot. Thanks for praying for us.

Funny food

2012-01-21T07:22:00.001-05:00

Am I missing something here? Aren't all beans vegetarian? Isn't hair dead? Shouldn't pop be...tasty?

Car shopping, round two...

2012-01-20T13:36:00.004-05:00

One week ago today, I was on a mission. A mission to find a vehicle. A mission to put to good use all the generous gifts that our friends have given...a mission that morphed into a journey. A journey that's led me all over Port-au-Prince...a journey that may soon have an end...

Having grown up in a Toyota family, I knew where my first stop would be: the only Toyota dealer in the Caribbean. In typical Haiti fashion, the door you can see in this picture was closed for business...you had to go around the side. I walked into the showroom with a highly polished floor and cubicles hiding whatever employees might be hiding. I stood there for a minute. No one. This was feeling a lot like Monday (if you don't know what I'm talking about, read this post). I decided to be bold...I peeked into a cubicle and found an employee.

She asked me to sit down in French, and then asked if I preferred English. I started to breathe again. After a short conversation, I found out a few important facts:

1) They don't have any used cars. (Strike one.)

2) New cars take four to six months to order. (Strike two.)

3) I was $10,000 too poor to buy their cheapest car. (I'm out.)

I thanked the nice lady for her time. At least she didn't laugh in my face.

My second stop is unpictured...because I had to slam on my brakes to get into the gate. There were so many used cars in the parking lot that there was--wait for it--no parking lot. At least it was a good sign. Land Cruisers, Nissan Patrols, Suzuki Vitaras...but being imported from the Dominican Republic, they had a lot of miles on them. I passed.

Next was SunAuto...another very nice lady had some new Hyundai Tuscons to sell me, but no used cars. However, we were getting closer on the price...I was only $4,000 short. I took her card.

Then, on my way to my next appointment, I passed a rental car company, and remembering what a friend had told me, I stopped in. They had two cars for sale: a white pick up truck and a blue Mitsubishi Montero. Pick up trucks are kind of a liability here, because people will jump in the back for a free ride--whether you want them to or not. There's an American here who had someone jump into the back of his truck while it was moving...the Haitian guy lost his balance and fell out. He died. His family sued the American guy...and won. I passed on the pickup truck.

But the Montero looked good. Like, really good. The air conditioner worked. It was a manual transmission, which are easier to get parts for when I beat the snot out of this car on our bumpy roads. It's never been in an accident. It only has 42,000 miles on it, which isn't bad for a rental car here. And best of all, I could almost afford it...I sat in this office and waited to talk to someone who could give me more information.

I admit--I went to two other places after that, but my heart wasn't in it. I called David to see if he could come see it right then, but he was flying. (What's that? You say pilots are supposed to fly on work days? I suppose you have a point.) So I dragged myself home and brought him back on Saturday...

...and on Monday, I brought my boss back...

...and on Thursday, MAF headquarters started the money transfer...

It's happening, people. We're buying a car. And I'm really excited about it.

We haven't signed the papers yet, but we're this close...please pray for a happy ending to our car-buying story!

A teaser...

2012-01-16T19:41:00.001-05:00

Car shopping, round one

2012-01-09T21:28:00.001-05:00

After too much "cruising-the-Internet" looking and not enough "put-on-your-shoes-because-we're-going-out" looking...on Monday, we went car shopping.

We headed up to Petionville to a place called Kavoom! They're near my favorite grocery store, and they've often posted cars online that are similar to what we're looking for. All morning, we'd been making a list of essential and non-essential characteristics for a car.

Four-wheel drive with self-locking hubs? Essential. I've been stuck in a river once on the way to Cap Haitian, dns without self-locking hubs, it could've been ugly.

Power locks? Essential. Nobody wants me to get kidnapped. I'd be a horrible hostage.

Air conditioning? Essential. And this one seems pretty self-explanatory.

We agreed that it needed to be a model we can get parts for, and we were willing to compromise on manual vs. automatic. (If only this city wasn't built on a series of mountains. Oy.)

Upon arriving in Petionville, we found Kavoom! (I love writing that.) There was no parking. We passed one spot on a one-way street, but couldn't get back to it. (Don't you hate that?) Finally, we pulled up onto the sidewalk in front of a bank, put it into park and called it good. (We only did it because we saw a Haitian guy do the same thing. When in Rome, right?)

Two blocks up and two blocks over, we found Kavoom! again. The small lot had cars parked so close they were touching. The big metal gate was open. We decided to take the opportunity to look around before someone started hassling us. There was a Jeep that looked like it was in good shape, but peeking in the window, I couldn't see the mileage. It was time to go in search of someone to hassle me.

I walked into the office, and an automatic doorbell rang. Good--someone would hear and come out...Nope. I knocked on the door to the inner office. Nothing. I peeked into the inner office windows. Empty. I stood in the doorway so the doorbell would ring some more. No effect. We hung around a few more minutes, but it was pretty obvious that no one was home.

So we left. Lesson Number One in Haiti Car Shopping: "Make an appointment."

Which brings me to Lesson Number Two...on the way back to the car, I remembered that a second place was on the same street we were on. One of us was determined to find it...the other tagged along as protection. We walked the street from top to bottom...and then from bottom to top. No dice. Lesson Number Two: "Bring directions."

Haiti 1, Harms 0.

I'm making appointments to go out again on Friday...prayers are much appreciated.

Goats are weird

2012-01-08T19:36:00.001-05:00

This goat's mother once wandered into my English classroom. I see the apple doesn't fall far from the tree.

Christmas Merry, Everybody!

2012-01-06T21:12:00.001-05:00

Well, they had a fifty/fifty chance of getting the words in the right order...oops.

A late Christmas present for Celine

2011-12-26T11:57:00.001-05:00

I am sitting in the hangar office on December 26th. We're supposed to be closed. This stuffy tin box of an office has the six AM sun on its pieced wooden walls.

A store on Delmas, still decorated

David just called me on the HF radio to say that he left the wheelchair out front. I said, "copy that" because it sounded right...and cool. Earlier, I kicked the chocks out, and I felt useful...and cool. Earlier, I manifested three passengers, weighing them, making small talk about Christmas.

We're supposed to be closed today...but here I am, for a boy named Celine. You never realize how great electricity is, you know. If he'd had electricity, maybe he wouldn't have tried to light the fire with kerosene. That's not so bad. I've done it. You just use a little. But Celine mistook the gasoline for kerosene...and now, he probably shouldn't be alive. But he is.

When I first approached the pilots about someone to do this flight, I expected to meet resistance. But I didn't. No one said, "we're supposed to be closed." No one said, "that's a holiday." They all said, "Make it happen; if you need my help, let me know." I had told Jim we were closed...but he didn't back down. (That's a theme in my job, by the way...people not backing down.) I suggested he try one of the other private operators--he said, "I don't trust anybody but you guys." I suggested he drive him down--he said, "He won't make it that way." His voice was somber, serious. I didn't know then how much time Jim had spent with Celine, but I know now what an advocate he's been for him. And with his help and donated airline miles and miles of paperwork and a generous Shriner's hospital in Boston, Celine is going to get the help he needs.

"FLY landing Pignon!" David yells into the HF radio. "FLY landing!" I yell back, recording the time. It's 7:20. Celine's international flight leaves at 10:30. And an MAF flight was the last piece of the puzzle. How could I say no?

When they landed, Jim picked up Celine and put him into the wheelchair...even at twelve years old, he was so slight that it wasn't hard. As I wheeled him into the terminal, I felt guilty. I wanted to take a picture of him for the blog, but I couldn't. I had my camera in hand, but I couldn't. His hands said it all--one looked as it should, brown-skinned with normal kid scratches and hangnails, while the other had clearly been engulfed in the flames, its skin white and puckered, its nails black or missing. Even in the sparse airport, people gathered around him to stare. (Americans would stare from a distance, pretending not to. Haitians don't have such inhibitions.) Jim shooed them away and by then, their ride had arrived to take them to the international terminal. His mom had the sweetest, gentlest smile, and I told her "bon voyage" and I'd be praying for her.

Please be praying for this kid and his family. You can find more updates about his trip here: www.helpceline.org

Merry Christmas!

2011-12-25T18:26:00.001-05:00

Yeah, the picture pretty much says it all. It's warm here, but we had a good Christmas nonetheless. In many ways, we've celebrated the day as we normally would...cinnamon rolls for breakfast, a lit tree, lots of cardboard and wrapping strewn about, spoiling my dogs with treats, Skyping with the family. I started a new Kindle book and we watched a movie, then had dinner with friends.

But now, as I'm watching a fuzzy NBA game in French, I realize that there are a few things that might be different. My sparkling cider probably cost more than yours. No one caroled me. And fireworks and noisy church service characterized my Christmas Eve, not a "silent night." Instead of temporary lights and garland, people just re-paint their whole house. This year's neighborhood theme was yellow and white...which I much prefer over Martelly pink.

But you know, the differences really didn't matter as much this year. Last year was really hard...but this year, I was able to set some of my cultural traditions aside and just embrace Haitian Christmas like it is...and it gives me some hope for myself, that if I can do Christmas so differently, maybe there's lots of other stuff I could do, too.

So here's to a different kind of Christmas. Hope you had a good one, too, wherever you may be.

(Mostly) Wordless Wednesday

2011-12-21T07:12:00.001-05:00

Today, I'll be doing a "market basket survey," where my friend J and I go to different grocery stores and write down how much things cost. It's one of the ways MAF makes sure we have enough money to buy food. However, I highly doubt these will be on the list. This is actually round two for this particular survey...because we didn't read the directions. (Figures.) Pray for stamina and patience.

Must be Christmas...

2011-12-17T20:32:00.001-05:00

Because my fridge and freezer both smell like peppermint.

Because my Amazon cart is full.

Because that Hawaiian song by Bing Crosby is getting a lot of air time on my iPod.

Because It's a Wonderful Life is warming up in the DVD player. "Happy New Year to you...in jail!"

Because I still drank cocoa while trimming our cute little tree, even in 90 degree heat.

Because it's Christmas!

"Nap tann ou, Jezi."

2011-12-05T21:28:00.001-05:00

My friend M called to see if we had Bible study a few weeks ago.

I said yes, that I was just leaving my house and would be on the road soon. And although we were speaking English, she ended with a common Kreyol phrase: "Nap tann ou." (Pronunciation help: Nap rhymes with "mop," tann rhymes with "yawn," and oo is just like the sound you make when someone gives you a bar of dark chocolate. Well, I do, anyway. It also rhymes with "you.")

The phrase "nap tann ou" has bothered me for some time. Literally translated, it means, "We're waiting for you." To my American ears, it had always meant, "you will undoubtedly be late, and we'll be forced to delay until you arrive." But knowing M's good will, and that she would be glad to see me (whenever I arrived), I suddenly realized that that wasn't what she meant at all.

I realized that she meant that they'd be expecting me, that her waiting would be one of anticipation, not frustration. That to her, "nap tann ou" was an expression of love.

That she meant we're waiting for you, as a child waits for Christmas morning, as a bride waits for her wedding day, as a family waits to be reunited with a soldier finally coming home.

And in the same moment, it occurred to me that this might be what Jesus meant, too, when he said for us to wait for his return. Do I expect that? I mean, do I really expect it? Or will I be caught off guard?

Looking around at the world we live in, you'd think it would be on my mind constantly...but it's not. Maybe I'm afraid of seeming, well, fanatical. (No prompting from the studio audience, please.) From the outside, I can see how it looks. This guy, whom most of the world believes has decomposed a long time ago--we think he's coming back. That's unusual. And some of us have really gone pretty overboard about it, too, based on how I woke up this morning...to a man with a megaphone, using the acoustics of the ravine to his advantage. He was shouting the Gospel. That's not love, dude. Not at 5:30 AM or any other time of day.

And then there's those who get so excited that they start to predict silly things...I'm thinking of someone in particular. I don't want to give it away, but he's an old white guy whose last name rhymes with "stamping." That's no good, either...and frankly, sort of misses the point. In my humble opinion, it's not about when Christ comes back, it's about why, and it's about how we've spent our days and hours and minutes and seconds since then.

So here's my benediction: may our lives convey a patient excitement, a quietly strange expectation, a holy yet unobnoxious longing, a sense that we are redeemed souls who say, "Whenever you're ready...we're waiting for you. Nap tann ou, Jezi."

A BIRTHday life in the life

2011-12-03T08:37:00.001-05:00

So MAF's been doing this thing on Facebook, where they take you through "a day in the life"...and I thought, "Oh man, I bet I'm the only one who's done a BIRTHday in the life!" If "a day in the life" is good, a birthday in the life is even better, right? Right?!

So here we go. A Haitian birthday. Because YOU asked for it.

This is the dog who wouldn't go outside on my 28th birthday. She was subsequently locked inside all day and was therefore very glad to see me when I got home. VERY glad.

This is the traffic I sat in on my 28th birthday. (Booo.)

This is the road that was freshly graded, the day before my 28th birthday...making the ride on my birthday particularly smooth. The people at the Caterpillar company have my gratitude.

This is the slow, rusty truck I followed to church on my 28th birthday. No, wait, slow isn't the right phrase...he was excruciatingly slow.

This is what the clock said when I rolled into church for an 8:00 Bible study on my 28th birthday. (Who said God doesn't care about the little things?) It was a small group, but they were glad to see me. I've been doing a study in English for some of the leaders in the church. And every time, they point out things I didn't think of--my 28th birthday was no exception.

This is the baby I got to hold on my 28th birthday. (He's cuter than this, I promise.) He was born about two weeks ago, and he'd just gotten back from the Embassy, where he was applying for his passport. I'm fairly sure it was a long wait. Welcome to the world, kid.

Those are the notes I took at my white lady Bible study on my 28th birthday. I Peter. Good stuff. (For those keeping score, yes, I sometimes have two Bible study groups on Fridays. I really love that book.)

These are the ladies who hugged me and prayed for me on my 28th birthday. Their friendship is a greater gift than I can express.

But Will also gave me a real gift--a lovely card made by my pseudo-nephew J and some cookies he'd helped bake. I hate to disappoint, but if you were hoping for one, you're out of luck.

This is what I ate for lunch on my 28th birthday. Classy, I know. I just can't beat peanut butter and honey for lunch. I eat like a five-year-old...and there's a pirate on my peanut butter jar.

This is the laundry I did on my 28th birthday. (Life goes on, right? At least it wasn't by hand.)

This is the mail I got my on 28th birthday--REAL MAIL. Not catalogs. Not bills. Cards and notes, for me. Since I hadn't had any mail in two weeks, this was particularly exciting.

And there was Cooking Light. I'll be honest--I can't cook hardly anything in this magazine for lack (or expense) of ingredients...but I love looking through it anyway.

And on my 28th birthday, we had staff meeting at my house. After the "meeting stuff," they sang to me and we ate chocolate cake. And then they indulged me while I demonstrated how Swedish angel chimes work. Yes, my house is already decorated for Christmas. Yes, it was a good birthday.

And my husband is right now, at this moment, down in the basement, trying to put our water pump on our backup power system, so I can take a shower with pressure before we go out for a fancy-schmancy lunch.

A happy birthday indeed. Thanks for the cards, phone calls, e-mails, and many Facebook wishes I got.

You guys are the best.

If You're Not Dead...

2011-11-29T19:37:00.001-05:00

In my roamings around the internet, I stumbled across this. I can't endorse the group, because I don't know enough about them, but the question they pose is interesting: Who would you give a second chance?

It's a question I've been mulling over since a conversation with our front office staff. We were discussing the fact that the U.S. is deporting a lot of Haitians at the moment. Human rights advocates in the U.S. are shocked and appalled by this, because of the earthquake-damaged-poverty-stricken-hell-on-earth-nature of Haiti (that's their opinion, not mine, by the way). But it turns out that my coworkers were upset for a different reason...

THEM: Living in the U.S. ruined those people, so they should just keep them.

ME: What do you mean, ruined? Like, made them spoiled so they can't live without their iPhones?

THEM: Yeah, spoiled. Spoiled. But spoiled because of drugs and crime. They never would have done drugs here. Drugs come from other places, so it's their problem if those people are rotten now. The U.S. has big prisons and we don't, so they should just keep them.

ME: They're not as big as you'd think.

From there, we continued a political discussion which I won't recount here (because I hated talking about it enough the first time). Suffice it to say, the outcome of the conversation was this:

"Those people are rotten."

Spoiled, like an apple is spoiled when eaten by worms. Like milk that's curdled. Like bread that's molded. Spoiled in an irreversible sense, something deep down in the nature of who they are.

I resented that. I told them so. I told them "those people" can and do change.

They disagreed...which broke my heart.

And since then, I have been thinking about human nature. I've been thinking about psychology, about prisons, about drug rehab programs, about foster homes. I've been thinking about the trash heap that these "spoiled" people grow up in. I've been thinking about how to dig them out.

I've been thinking of K, a friend here. He got deported from the U.S. after having grown up there. He lives here now (but he speaks English like a New Yorker, which makes me giggle). He has some problems...but he started coming to my church a month ago. "There's nothing like this in Haiti," he tells me. "This guy is real," he says, pointing to Seige, our pastor. "He's simple, and he preaches the Word. It's like, wow. And I watched them to see how they'd treat you, if they were asking you for stuff. But they didn't." I asked him if he was coming back, and the look I got in return told me that was a stupid question.

I'd say he's changing.

And more than anything, I've been thinking about Christ's power over life and death, over change and stagnancy. That picture at the top of the page sums it up for me: "If you're not dead, you're not done." If I don't believe that, then I don't believe the Gospel...because everyone made in God's image can find it again. We know that in God's kingdom, the deadwood gets cut down--but it doesn't take much of a bud on the branch to keep you around. If you want life--real life--you can find it there.

But on the other hand, my friends were disturbingly correct. If I won't accept God's help to change, I won't change. My vices and addictions may change, but I won't. If I remain a fan of Jesus instead of a follower, I get out of my faith what exactly what I put into it: nothing. How do I know? I've tried it. And it was a huge waste of time.

What am I trying to say? I'm not sure. Maybe just that I can't give up on those curdled milk, wormy apple, moldy bread failures. Maybe just that, as one of them, I won't.

Ten Things I'm Thankful For, In No Particular Order

2011-11-24T18:27:00.001-05:00

1. No school today. Every week day, we "get to" listen to a chorus of motorcycles, crying kids, and people chattering in Kreyol. It really ramps up just about the time we were supposed to be eating dinner...but today, school was canceled unexpectedly. I don't know how or why, but we weren't complaining.

2. Got to Skype with the fam. I could see them, and thanks to the inventors of the iPhone and the mirror, they could see me, too. Missionaries would have killed for that 100 years ago, and it's free.

3. My pumpkin pies turned out okay...even though I forgot half the milk.

4. Giant Supermarket had cranberry sauce. There's just something about it that just makes Thanksgiving.

5. Four cool kids who ate what we put in front of them, said please and thank you, wore out my dogs, and gave me hugs.

6. David took two days of vacation this week, and I went to work without him. I had no idea work would be so much more boring just by removing my husband. I was itching to get out of there at 3:00...but I got to hang out with him today and yesterday.

7. It's almost Christmas. Christmas. And after that, David's parents come to visit...I'm thankful for families who will spend time, money, and safety to see us.

8. The grass withers and the flower falls, but the word of the Lord remains forever. And this word is the good news that was preached to me, the precious blood of Christ that bought me (I Peter 1:24-25). I still don't deserve a drop of it.

9. I have a toilet; three, in fact. I realize how silly that sounds, but November 19th was World Toilet Day. And the more I thought about it, the more I realized how great it is to have one. Not just because I'd have to go outside at 4:30 AM to...(ahem). But "as of 14 October, about a year from the start of the epidemic, Haiti's ministry of health reported 473,649 cases of cholera and 6,631 deaths attributed to it across all 10 of the country's departments." (For the rest of the article, click here.) And I bet there a lot more going unrecorded who never make it to a hospital. But I have a toilet, and that helps more than just me.

10. You. Yes, you. You pray for us and support us, and please believe me when I say that nothing can replace it and nothing could mean more.

Happy Thanksgiving.

Shameless Plug

2011-11-14T17:09:00.001-05:00

Hey, you were warned. This is another shameless plug for SendThemForHim.com, the site that gives to our ministry support when you shop through them.

Does it cost you more money? Nope. Just time. I was curious, actually, so I timed it. Without using my bookmark, it only took me 49.4 seconds to get to Amazon.com through their site. So if you've got 45 seconds, you can help this couple stay in Haiti gratis (that means "free").

How does it work? Well, I'm glad you asked.

Step One: You'll start by opening this link in a new tab or window: http://www.sendthemforhim.com/files/Groups/Harms/MerchantList.html

Step Two: Find the store you're looking for. Click on the category next to it, and scroll down until you find it again. Click on the picture to the left to be taken to the website.

Step Three: Shop!

Step Four: Pay!

Step Five: Actually, there were only four steps. Sorry about that. I got carried away by how easy it was. Send Them For Him will automatically credit the charity percentage back to us. Elementary, my dear shopper.

As you do your Christmas shopping, please keep us in mind! We appreciate anything you can do.

In which Christine tries to cram a whole weekend into one day

2011-11-13T09:45:00.001-05:00

This morning, I did not go to church. My yard guy called me last night to see if we were coming.

O: Are you coming to church tomorrow?
Me: We'll see. I'm not sure yet.
O: I don't like it when you don't come. I want to see you. You didn't come last week.
Me: That's true. But I went to Bible study on Friday.
O: Evangelicals are supposed to go to church. It's good to be together.
Me: That's true, it is. Maybe we'll come.

But we didn't. We slept in, because both worked on Saturday and were exhausted. And now I am bravely attempting to cram an entire weekend into one day, before we must go back to work on Monday.

This morning, I locked the dogs on the porch and broke out our new basketball. "You do realize it's only 7:45 AM, don't you?" David quietly reminded me, as I started dribbling. Really? I'd already had pancakes (a weekend tradition) and answered some e-mails. I stopped to listen. Our neighbors were already up. Life here starts at 5 AM anyway.

Our yard is completely concrete. There are about three places where it's not, as if someone sighed and said, "Well, I guess if it's already growing there, we can't stop it." It's bad for plants, but perfect for basketball. I wanted to play HORSE, but we settled on PIG instead. I stumped him with my "backwards over the head" shot, but he won in the end...but only by one "G." After he beat me, we let the dogs out, to see what their reactions would be. I don't know if you've ever shown a Haitian dog a basketball, but there were two distinct reactions:

1) Gracie couldn't believe her luck. Her "grandparents" had brought this GIANT ball--just for her. She couldn't figure out why I was throwing it up into the air instead of letting her chase it, but oh man, was she ready for it. She practically bounced up and down, ears up, tail wagging, barking, as if to say, "Go ahead, throw it--I don't know how I'm going to get it into my mouth to bring it back to you, but I will find a way."

2) Nessie couldn't believe what horrible people we were. We were throwing things. It almost hit her. Her barks were meant to mean, "How dare you bring that implement of pain and torture into my yard?" When she wasn't barking, she was skulking out of range and acting incensed.

As you may have gathered, there was a lot of barking. When the ball went inside with David, Gracie stared at the back door, willing it to open. She was unsuccessful, and then heard a noise in the street and went tearing around the house to see what it was. At this point, Nessie came over to be petted to make up for the indignity of balls falling near her head. She followed me around as I watered my plants.

Nessie remained in the backyard, sleeping under the stack of black plastic chairs my parents bought me last week. She woke up briefly when I came out to put some laundry in the machine. Whites: pilot shirts, socks, underwear, white cotton shirts. Essentials, people. My goal is two loads. Ambitious, but if we don't get rain, we'll be set for most of the week.

Since then, I am planning a baby shower for a friend. Next on my list is "doing nothing." Otherwise known as "resting." If I don't, I'll be wiped this week. Let's face it: I'll probably be wiped anyway...but a nap never hurt anybody. As soon as the church in the ravine gives it a rest, maybe I'll give it a try. While I sleep, David will probably download "Wait, Wait, Don't Tell Me," and after that, we'll listen to it and snicker while I bake him something delicious.

Ah, weekends. What would we do without them?

Happy birthday, David Harms

2011-11-06T15:10:00.000-05:00

Many of you probably have this picture on your fridge. It's a good one. We're both smiling, and we look very "put-together," like good missionaries should. You probably love it.

Here's the one I love. We were supposed to be seriously trying to take the picture for our prayer card, and here's David, making faces and cracking me up. I wish you could all put this picture on your fridge, because this is the real David, right here. That quiet guy who comes to your meetings and sits in church and flies you around in airplanes? He's just fronting. This is him. Right there.

So here's to my 28-year-old husband...I'm late, but I'm sincere. Thanks for another year of cracking me up when I need it the most. Thanks for loving me so well, even when you don't feel like it. Thanks for your helpfulness, your integrity, your good advice. Thanks for being David Harms...no one else could do it so well. Happy birthday.

Home "improvements"

2011-10-23T17:37:00.000-05:00

(Side note: I'm feeling better. Thanks for the prayers! Now on the more important things...)

There are a few things that are better about the new house:

1) Getting in and out of the gate is a one-man job...provided there are no four-year-old children standing in front of it. (We live across the street from a school.)

2) I have nice neighbors.

3) We get a lot of city power. Seriously.

But the best thing...the best thing...is the shower. Don't misunderstand me, now. Since long before I moved here, I have been a member of the Society for Scalding H2O Which is Ever Ready...yes, that spells SHOWER (mostly). I think you'd be hard-pressed to find a missionary who isn't a member. We should have a fan page on Facebook...but it might be misinterpreted.

At first, we were being cheap and unplugged the water heater when we weren't immediately using it. However, since then, we've figured out that the water stays warm, even when the power goes off. A warm trickle down your back is better than a cold trickle down your back. When the power is off, the water pump doesn't work. We should hang a sign that says "This shower brought to you by gravity." It's a pretty great invention, really.

The only hitch in my giddyup is that I'll wait as long as possible...to see if the power comes on...to get hotter water. Contentment really is illusive, isn't it?

Happy almost-Monday.

P.S. Pictures are coming. Soon-ish.

99.4 degrees

2011-10-12T17:35:00.000-05:00

That's my temperature.

Because I'm sick.

Like, for real, sick.

I'm achy.

I have a headache.

My throat feels like someone scraped it with a rusty something.

I feel the need to be pitied.

And the best way to know I'm sick is that I am watching M*A*S*H re-runs with the blanket I bought in Mexico is wrapped around my shoulders.

Oh, I'm drinking Gatorade, too. (That's just for you, Mom.)

Prayers appreciated.

(Sniff.)

His Song for Me

2011-10-07T17:39:00.000-05:00

I was going to blog about something else entirely today, but this is too good to keep to myself.

At the top of this blog, it says "A chronicle of God's faithfulness." That's true. This is a record, a testimony, of what God's done for us and who He is.

The background to this post is that I've been discouraged. There's a lot of reasons why, which I may go into later. But I'm discouraged. I don't want to be. I'm trying not to be, but I am. One of the ways I fight discouragement is through worship. While I wash dishes or cook dinner or exercise, I listen to a podcast or music that gets my head right again.

Today, I was gone for an hour and a half to Bible study two houses down the street. In that time, someone broke through the window I'd just re-screened to steal my iPod off the dining room table. My old iPod, with a scratched screen. It wasn't even an iPod Touch, people. It was old school...but it was mine.

I cried.

Then I felt dumb for crying over something as stupid as "stuff."

Then I cried again.

Maybe it's because it made me feel unsafe. Maybe it's because it was so petty. Maybe it's because I'll miss the worship and the podcasts that kept my head right. Or maybe it's all of those, paired with my previous discouragement. I don't know.

But here's what happened next...

Still crying and angry, I pulled my Kindle off the bedside table, intending to read the Bible for a while, but instead, I opened up a book called Trusting in His Goodness. The first thing written on the page was this:

One of the ways God delights in you and expresses His love for you is in song. It's not just any song. Imagine the exquisite beauty of the sound when the very Creator of music sings over you. Every other piece of music is a feeble reflection. God sings over you and is committed to you.

I couldn't make this stuff up. And although I couldn't hear it, I knew it was true. God took a moment of brokenhearted discouragement, however silly, and showed me His love all over again. It's a daily love, you know. The kind that can heal all hurts. The kind of love that knows each and every one.

And today, I heard the symphony of God's love for me all around, even without an iPod.

Remembering Her

2011-10-01T21:31:00.000-05:00

I used this picture as a teaser a few months ago, promisingto tell you more about my trip to Minneapolis.Much like this picture, it was glorious.

Traveling to and from Haiti is always an adventure, I’mfinding. As we have already covered, I don’t do culture shock well, so that’s afactor. But 30 hours of travel time and 5 airplanes (including one that didn’tfly) were a factor, too… I don’t love traveling by myself, and immigrationagents make me really nervous. (It’s my country—why can’t I just come in?)

But it was so worth it.

This is my grandmother. It made her really, really happy that Icame. It wasn’t cheap to send me, but she’s been there for me my whole life.Like, literally. The school concerts, the soccer games, the plays, all of it. Sowith David’s blessing, I did my best to “complete the set,” because all shewanted for her 90^th birthday was to have the whole family together.

And so together we came. I don’t remember who said it, butat the time, we commented on how nice it was to be together, celebratingsomething awesome. I caught up with family I hadn’t seen in over fifteen years.I laughed with aunts and uncles. I read books to my first cousins once-removed.I walked to ice cream with my parents and my sister and my cousin. We played aridiculous game. We toughed out the rain and cold for family photos (taken bythe fabulous NoemiPhotography). We talked late into the night. (I told you it was glorious.)

And on Sunday afternoon, when some family had gone for awalk (and some were napping), I sat in a lawn chair in the sun with mygrandmother. I can’t prove it, but I’m pretty sure time slowed to a stop forus. She wasn’t quite the woman she’d always been. After all, ninety years taketheir toll. She couldn’t see the birds in the yard, so I described a few to seeif we could identify them. We chatted a about life in Haiti, pastfamily functions. I got to hear her infectious laugh.

Then, time resumed its normal speed, and the people nappingwoke up and the people walking came back. I threw things back into a suitcase(including some rhubarb I was praying made it through customs) and headed home.Over the next two weeks, I settled back into life here with the husband I love.

And then she died.

If you didn’t feel prepared for that, I’m sorry, but Iwasn’t prepared for it, either. The doctors say it was a heart attack, but Ijust think she was ready. She had known and loved Jesus for a long time. Shegot to love on all of us one more time. Her eyes were failing, and her ears,and her lungs…ninety years. For twenty-seven of those, she was there for me,and I’m grateful I got to hang out with her that weekend.

My family celebrated her life today, minus me. But I’m therein spirit. Today, I remember her. You can’t encapsulate a woman like this inone blog post, so it’s tempting not to try…but I think I must.

She used words like “maven.” She had the patience to sitwith me and my sister while we fed the ducks for the millionth time or sewedplastic canvas projects for my mom, her daughter-in-law. She believed in usingall the cookie dough…no snitching from the bowl. She went places like China and Micronesia…and yet, when otherswalked out, she stayed. She delighted in being part of our lives, howevermundane.

She read with me. She read in front of me. She fell asleepreading, God only knows how many times. She took the time to read this blog(once she increased the font to a readable size for ninety-year-old eyes). Shehad access to the secret world of the library, behind the desk (I was consumedwith jealousy over this). Before I could even see over the counter, I remembergoing in and asking to see her, as if it was totally normal for allgrandmothers to be found in libraries.

She did not abide pretense or politeness when the truth wasbetter. When I was five, I greeted her and a friend with the information thatmy cat peed on the rug and my daddy slept in his underwear…and she loved it. Shelaughed out loud and wouldn’t have dreamed of scolding me. When she thought Ishouldn’t get married at twenty, she told me so. When I visited her while Iwas in college on a break, even when I didn’t know what to say, she stillappreciated it and told me so.

Part of me feels betrayed that she left…I have more lifeleft to live, after all, and I’ve never had to do it without her. But I havehope left, too, and it’s holding firm to the belief that she lives in God’spresence. I don’t know if she can see me. In fact, I highly doubt it. But I don’tdoubt the promise of God, that she’s living a life eternal, because she trustedin Jesus Christ.

But I still miss her.

Thanks for your prayers for my family.

Nessie

2011-09-30T12:49:00.000-05:00

This is Anyen. In Kreyol, her name means "nothing." That's the first name I gave her, the day we found her on the property at the old house. This was the expression she had on her face, pretty much all the time. That is, if you could get close enough to see her expression. It was a big property, and she'd just run away if you tried to come close.

I thought about having her put down. She seemed pretty...useless. She was skinny and her fur was falling out all over the place. According to the landlord, the people who had rented the house before us just left her there. She survived for weeks? months? on mangoes and rain water. I fed her some leftover beans, but she still wouldn't come within six feet of me.

And then, we had to change her name. Someone tried to come over our wall--pulled down the razor wire--and she protected us. So, David suggested Anyen's name be changed to Onesimus...from "nothing" to "useful," just like that. I call her Nessie for short, and several other adorable nicknames, the best of which is "Happy-Ness."

Some of you may remember that we moved last weekend. Our first dog, Grace, waltzed into the new yard, sniffed around, plopped herself down the in the gallery and fell asleep. Nessie wasn't so sure. First of all, she was just sure we were going to leave her. Just sure. So when we piled her into the car with the dog food and the toys, she didn't dare hope.

The days that followed have been...a little rough. She was never an escape artist...before we moved. She'd never have sneaked into the house...before we moved. (You should have seen her trying to get footing on the tile floors as I dragged her back out. I would have been amused if I wasn't so mad.)

If we leave, she cries. If we go into the garage where she can't see us, she cries. If I feed her, she cries. Let's see, maybe it would be easier to list when she doesn't cry: when I'm petting her or when she's sleeping. To be fair, there are other moments...but they feel few at the moment.

Out of pity, I tried bringing her down to the garage when I worked on screening the back door. She seemed a little happier, but thought she'd be even more happy crawling under the front gate. Sigh. When I finished the door, I picked up her leash and started up the stairs...only to find myself rudely jerked backwards. She looked up at me...and lay down. "Come on, Ness, let's go." No response. No tail thumping against the concrete. No smiles (see above). Nothing. She put her head down on the concrete.

As I carried her up the stairs, much to the amusement of several Haitian onlookers, I realized I must really care about this dog...or she'd be back out on the street. Please pray for patience for us as we all settle in!

Other than Nessie's tough adjustment, things are going pretty well, thanks to help from our neighbor Todd especially. As a nice change, this house actually gets city power (unlike the last one, where they inexplicably cut us off for two months...thank God for generators).

I'm supposed to go back to work scheduling on Monday, but we're both home sick today. Please pray for quick healing, as there's still a lot to be done around here.

Move = win, First night = fail

2011-09-25T07:13:00.002-05:00

The move was a complete success--thanks to all who helped and those who prayed! As far as I can tell so far, only one breakage (and a very cheap one at that). The group started at 9:00 and was done by 11:30, except for the generator. We'd planned to have friends from church come and help with it, but these missionary guys--once you get them on a project, they don't stop until it's done! So they powered through and finished it off. We polished off a few peanut butter sandwiches with some Cokes, and they all went on their way.

Well, not all of them. Jeff, a guy I just met, stayed to help us break up a waterbed. It was not a fun task, but he gave up a trip to go sightseeing to stay and help. I seriously cannot tell you what that meant to me. It was unspeakably helpful.

And then came night...where we realized that electricity without fixtures that work still equals darkness.

My dog whimpered all night and threw herself against the gate.

I went out in the rain trying to help my dog and got soaked.

We couldn't get the bed frame together (after finding all the pieces, we finally did).

I killed five cockroaches and got bit by mosquitoes.

David didn't really sleep.

So the move was a win, but the first night was a bit rough. Thanks for your prayers as we settle in, unpack, and start to fix this place up and make it home.

Moving Day

2011-09-24T05:33:00.000-05:00

It's 5:22 AM, and I don't know why I'm blogging. The Hurricane is still asleep, or I'm sure we'd be madly throwing food into coolers and taking apart the bed. We were up pretty late last night (okay, so it was like 10:30. That's late for me), so I'm glad he's still sleeping. When I woke up at 4:30, he woke up momentarily.

When I woke up at 4:30, there was a crescent moon framed in my window, with an echo, because the windows overlapped. I got up to look out, and the neighborhood was dark. Just a tropical forest's silhouette against the breaking dawn. Not a streetlight, not a headlight, not a security light to be seen.

As the sun came up, I took a moment to say goodbye to the house. The roosters were crowing (which just means they're not dead), and my dogs stayed fast asleep.

I still don't know why I'm blogging when they are pictures to be taken off the walls...but thanks for listening.

Wordless Wednesday

2011-09-21T17:36:00.001-05:00

Part of the pile...it's a growing pile.

The view from above. Might need more boxes.

My faithful helpers. Dogs sure know how to live.

On the Move

2011-09-15T19:29:00.000-05:00

There is a power drill in my kitchen. There are ceiling fan blades in my entryway. And when I went to grab a Pyrex bowl, there were none to be found.

Something's happening around here.

I think it has to do with moving. In eight days, fourteen hours and seven minutes, I'm moving. It's not far--less than a mile--but in many ways, it's the weirdest move I've ever done.

For one thing, I was friends with the previous tenants...that's new. For some reason, it's made it more important to make this place "our own," maybe only because I've seen it under different circumstances. I keep catching myself calling it their house instead of mine.

It's my house. Mine, mine, mine.

But so is this one...and I'll still have to drive by this one every day. Every other time I've moved, I've left town--literally. I don't even have to change my mailing address this time.

It's weird. I'm trying to pretend it's easy, but it's not. It's weird.

There's a joke that MAF stands for "Move again, Friend" instead of "Mission Aviation Fellowship." I knew it was a good possibility...but we've already moved three times since we got here. At the same time, there are good things about the new place that I'm looking forward to.

For instance, I'm looking forward to being next door to...the pool. Well, and the friends who own it. We'll have our own basketball hoop. We'll be off the busy street. We'll have hot water. (And all our guests say "hallelujah.")

But I'm leaving the entryway that Simeon, Cathy, Randy, Sandy, and Carol painted for me. And I'm leaving the plants I put into the ground. And I'm leaving my awesome kitchen, my indoor laundry hanging spot, my dedicated workout room.

Since MAF's already put money into the new house, I guess I'll go through with it. The funny thing is that once my cookbooks are on the counter, I'll probably never look back.

Thanks for sticking with us, move after move.

Wordless Wednesday

2011-09-14T19:50:00.000-05:00

This little truck is far pretty from home...just like us.

Funny Food

2011-09-05T18:36:00.001-05:00

It's a bird! It's a plane! No, it's SUPER SEEDS! (Super powers not included.)

Running towards the storm

2011-08-29T17:24:00.002-05:00

I have a new job. I'm scheduling all the planes for MAF Haiti. It's taken some getting used to, but I'm finally starting to get the hang of it and really enjoy it. (Don't tell the guy I replaced, or I might become permanent.)

Last week, I'd been e-mailing back and forth with Medical Teams International (Shameless hometown organization shout out! I remember back when they were NW Medical Teams.) about two paralyzed patients who needed to get home. They've been getting treatment here in PAP, but were both originally from northern Haiti. We'd worked out a flight that was about an hour and a half long to two different locations, Cap Haitian and Port-de-Paix. Collectively, they saved at least ten hours of driving. It felt really good to put them in that plane.

We'd made the manifest, filed the flight plan, tied down the baggage, loaded in one patient and were about to load the second one, when the guy from MTI stopped me. He covered the mouthpiece of his phone. "There's a problem," he said softly. Uh-oh. I know I have an official-looking clipboard, but I'm the new guy. No problems, please.

Apparently, somehow, another passenger had found out we were going to Port-de-Paix and wanted to get a seat. MTI wanted to bump the paramedic and put this guy on instead.

"Is he here?" I asked. "If he's not here, he can't go." He was here. Ready, waiting. Hopeful. I weighed him up and rushed him out, since the plane was already late leaving. He was over his weight allowance, so he gave his cheese to a pastor. (I'm not sure if that will make sense to you, but if you lived here, you'd know just what I mean.) As we're hurrying across the wide, open cement plain of the airport, he says to me: "You have no idea what a blessing this is. My wife had to go through the last hurricane by herself. This is great!"

And that's when it hit it me: this guy is running into Hurricane Irene. He's running towards the storm. He lived through Hurricanes Gustav, Hannah, and Ike--he knows what he's getting into. And he's still hurrying home...for his wife.

Oh, for a love that truly knows what "selfless" means.

Wordless Wednesday

2011-08-25T10:04:00.001-05:00

Found on the MAF hangar fridge...gee, I wonder why they don't advertise this more?

Presence

2011-08-23T09:13:00.001-05:00

As many can attest, I'm excitable. Well, excitable is the nice way to say it. My sister would probably say I "freak out" about things. It's probably true.

This is our third tropical storm since we've been here...her name is Irene. She's actually a hurricane, but the hurricane part of her won't be coming to Haiti, praise God. Weather websites like to put up scary pictures like the one below. Originally, Irene was forecast to come right across Port-au-Prince. As David put it this morning, "I'm starting to not trust those guys." I concur.

Her presence here has largely gone unnoticed, so far. She was supposed to hit us during the night, which I much prefer, because no one is out on the street without shelter. (Well, okay, some people are. We'll pray the prostitutes take the night off.) The airport has closed a few airstrips, mostly in the north.

But it's another presence I'm feeling right now. And it's probably unspiritual, but it's David's presence that's affecting me.

Last night, as I was folding laundry, I was reflecting on the fact that I'm not freaking out about Irene. I'm not worried about it, really. Trying to figure out why that was, it hit me: it's David. Usually, he goes off to work on days like this, and I sit around and speculate about how it's going down there. But now that I'm working at the hangar (a whole other blog post), I'm here...with him.

I've been a couple with this guy for ten years. That has an effect on a person. We just had our seventh wedding anniversary on Sunday, and with every one that goes by, I become more and more convinced that I'd be a lot worse off without him. So it's good to have him nearby today...and every day. And as much as it's been a challenge to be working in the same office together, it's also a blessing.

On the theme of presence, I've been thinking a lot about all the short-term missions teams here. I don't think they usually cause any harm. They come, they love, they leave. But as I was reflecting, I think what Haiti really needs is people to come and live their faith here in a normal, everyday way. It's not that most Haitians don't believe in God--He is constantly on their lips. "See you tomorrow, if God wills" is a common way to say goodbye. Their tap-taps write His name in big red letters. Church attendance is a badge of honor.

It's not that they don't believe--it's that they're not transformed by that belief. It changes nothing. As James writes, even demons believe in God, but they don't act accordingly. We all need to see believers who act accordingly, who let this good news stain every part of their lives. People for whom nothing is exempt from the scrutiny of the Holy Spirit, who convicts us concerning sin and righteousness and judgment.

People like my pastor, S. When I was teaching English, I got a "TA"...R sat in the back of the classroom and didn't say much, but he spoke great English and obviously enjoyed our classes. He was hoping to be hired for the next session. When the next session list came out, I was shocked to find out that R wasn't teaching. When I asked Pastor S, his answer humbled me: "He was a good teacher, but we weren't sure about his walk with God." R wouldn't have been teaching Bible study, but that was irrelevant to Pastor S. He didn't want any ungodly example in front of these students. He wanted leaders who could lead from the inside out. What humbled me is that he sensed that in me...I hope it's true.

May God keep changing us with His presence and may others be drawn to emulate that Presence in us.

Here comes Irene

2011-08-21T07:23:00.000-05:00

Okay, people, you did a good job with Emily...let's see how you do with Irene.

She's headed our way soon, they say...but they were wrong about Emily, so let's hope this is another false alarm. You may be thinking about the "weather phenomena" mentioned in the last post as something that could launch us into a season of famine...let's pray for that, too. Thanks, guys.

Food Math

2011-08-13T11:57:00.000-05:00

Here's a little food math for you, friends.

Earthquake + Haiti = less food

{Previous scenario} + lots and lots of foreign aid = more food

{Previous scenario} + instability because of elections = less food

{Previous scenario} + inflation worldwide = less food than that

{Previous scenario} + no rain = we're in trouble

{Previous scenario} + "weather phenomena" = famine

Yeah, that's what they're predicting. Right now, we're at the "we're in trouble" stage...but a hurricane or tropical storm that disrupts food delivery or production (i.e. farming and marketing) could put us over the top.

It's just one crazy things after another down here. Please pray that God would prevent a famine!

Here's the article where I got my information: http://www.haitilibre.com/en/news-3578-haiti-social-food-security-haiti-in-phase-2-before-the-famine.html (Fair warning: a computer translated this article from French. A computer that deserves to be fired.)

Wordless Wednesday

2011-08-11T09:48:00.002-05:00

Give your breakfast some GUSTO.

Emily update

2011-08-06T15:17:00.000-05:00

As you probably figured out, Emily didn't hit us--praise God. She broke up over the mountains of southern Haiti before she got anywhere near Port-au-Prince.

Your prayers made a difference--thank you!

Barriers to a Blog Post

2011-08-04T07:02:00.000-05:00

Well, so far, Emily's keeping her distance...but she's not the only one throwing us for a loop this morning. There have been a few barriers to this blog post...

My Google account got hacked, so I had to prove I was me before I could log in again. (When did I start using Gmail? I have no idea.)

David needed a lunch and he was busy "saving the day" up on the roof at 6:15 this morning, when we discovered we had hardly any water up there. Peanut butter sandwich it is...plus six packets of crackers, three granola bars, three packages of cookies, and two Top Ramens. Did I overdo it?

My laptop battery died as I was uploading pictures. Since our city power has been discontinued (again), we've been on generator, which means I'm trying not to charge things during the day...which means the laptop gets fed up with me and turns itself off.

We prayed together, as we do every morning, and I sent him on his way. He left in a pilot shirt, but he hasn't decided if he's flying or not today. Please pray for safety and wisdom for all our pilots today. Our other concern is that many Haitians may think the storm isn't coming and go about their normal business. Please pray that they would be cautious and wise in deciding to go out, and that God would spare many lives.

I was really surprised to wake up and find dry ground this morning, but things are definitely changing...

Here's what the hills looked like last night....

Here's what they look like this morning.

The wind started picking up around 3:45 this morning, but it's still kind of wimpy, compared to what I expected. Come on, Emily--let's get this over with.

Oh, and one final barrier to posting this blog: I had to go shut off the generator when the water pump finished, as well as remind my dog that people with brooms are not the primary threat to our way of life.

Thanks for your prayers, friends.

Ready or not...

2011-08-03T16:47:00.000-05:00

It's 4:20 PM here, and the rain's just started. Here's a few pictures from around our place.

It's already coming down pretty good, so we'll see what happens later tonight. Here's the latest forecast for her path...it's definitely an improvement, so let's hope she decides to just skirt by us like Tomas did last year.

Watch and Pray

2011-08-01T20:56:00.000-05:00

That's the phrase running through my head at the moment: watch and pray. It's a little ironic, because they've just issued a tropical storm watch for Haiti. Truth be told, it's been a pretty wild 24 hours here at the Harms house, and we're exhausted. I'm going to bed now, but I know that I'll wake up with this storm heavy on my heart again. So far, the center isn't going to pass over Port-au-Prince, but it wouldn't take much to change its direction.

But then again, it wouldn't take much to change its direction away from us, either...shall we pray for that? For God's will, but also for his mercy to be at work on this island? That in His grace, He might turn this storm away from us...

In the morning, I'll watch and pray. Thanks for joining me.

Thankful Thursday

2011-07-28T13:00:00.001-05:00

*That B's daughter is feeling much better!
*Our generator, which has been getting a workout every night this week...
*Getting to know Ed Robinson, our guest this week. He is one cool guy.
*A day to myself today.
*The breeze that's cooling off my house.
*The first four bites of cornflakes in the morning. (Oh, come on--everyone knows the rest are soggy.)
*That God hears me, even when I don't know what to say.

What are you thankful for today?

Grocery Store Moment

2011-07-22T06:39:00.000-05:00

Yesterday, in the grocery store, as I was pricing out the difference between brands of chunky peanut butter, a guy walked by, pushing his cart with one hand and drinking a beer with the other.

Drinking a beer...in the grocery store.

That's something you just don't see every day.

O's Family

2011-07-21T07:44:00.000-05:00

Our yard guy, O, knocks on the back door when he's finished with his work. I click the metal lock in the metal door and it creaks open.

Me: You're ready?

O: Yeah, I'm ready. Bye.

Me: (laughing) You can't say goodbye until I let you out the front gate.

O: (something mumbly in Creole)

Me: Huh?

O: I'm not leaving, I'm staying here.

Me: (exuberantly) You can't stay here! You have to go get married!!

As he left, he had the biggest smile on his face. "Pray for me," he calls, and he's not joking (for once). It's a long trip to the village where his "wife" lives...and this week, they're making it official. He started going to our church, Calvary Chapel PAP, about a year and a half ago, and it must have gotten him thinking. It's about time they got married, I often tease him, since they already have four kids. And let's face it, in a few months, we'll probably find out that she's pregnant again. But he only gets to see them every six months. That's rough.

He's a good dad--he calls his kids every night to make sure they're being good for their mom. And I can tell he loves his wife. He's always joking around, and it's a true blessing to have him in our lives. (Oops--I meant to add a "sentimental alert." Oh well, too late now.)

He called me yesterday afternoon. There was lots of people noise in the background--happy laughing and talking, just like O, only times fifty. "I made it! I'm here! My family greets you!" he yelled into the phone. "I greet them back! Have a great time!" He told me he was coming back the 32nd. That must have been another joke.

We're rejoicing over O and his family! Please pray for safety for him as he travels and a strong start to his marriage.

Spying

2011-07-16T09:59:00.000-05:00

Sometimes, it's hard to find a quiet place to think in Port-au-Prince. Here's my neighbor's solution. I only wish my own roof was flat.

A Haiti Moment

2011-07-15T19:54:00.000-05:00

It's 7:30 PM on Friday, and I'm ironing in my kitchen. The window is closed, because my neighbors are blaring a radio program. (Unusual for my neighbors, but not for Haiti. You don't have the right to quiet here.) I just finished pulling the laundry off the line, because it felt like it might rain. We got a nice, heavy rain on Wednesday, but nothing since then. Outside, both dogs were very suspicious of the way the bushes were moving. I wouldn't be surprised to find a mouse on my doorstep tomorrow morning. I turned around to see a spider as big as my hand scurrying up the wall by the door into the house. Not cool. Half a can of Baygon later, he is dead.

I am ironing white pilot shirts, because I can only iron on city power, and I'm afraid it'll go off before morning. There is a distressed lizard behind my refrigerator who is chirping at me. David is trying to shoo him away by slamming cupboard doors. His next task is setting up our evening Star Trek episode, which his dad kindly sends to us. My next task is making a cake from a box for a potluck tomorrow.

In spite of so many things, life in Haiti is good. Thanks for praying for us.

Music to my ears

2011-07-12T19:31:00.001-05:00

To say that it's been dry is an understatement. We usually get rain every day in this season, but we haven't had rain in 35 days.

This is the corn O planted for us. It's rather...dead. I was going to split it with him, but he's going to lose money as it is. I've been dumping my laundry water out there, but it only goes so far.

Clearly, I couldn't save all of it. So sad. And when it's sad for me (just because I love corn), I think about the people who really need their crops. Like, to live.

My dusty banana tree. All the trees along the road are just coated with dirt that the rain usually washes off.

I took these this morning, to show you how dry it's been. And then, finally, after 35 days of praying...I heard music to my ears...

It sounded like it was tapering off for a while after this, but now the thunder and lightning are picking up again...and there's few things I like better. This storm is a good start, but if a food shortage is going to be avoided, we're going to need a lot more. Please pray for more rain!

P.S. B came to work today--her daughter is feeling a little better, but they're still waiting on more tests, and she's far from 100%. Thanks for praying!

Someone else's fever

2011-07-11T10:08:00.000-05:00

Mwen pa ka pran te pou lafyèv li.
I can’t take tea for someone else’s fever.

I try to stay positive on this blog. I don't have a "whiny Wednesday." But every once in a while, I find things I hate.

I was painting at the new house last week, when my phone rang. It was B...on her day off. Bad sign. In a jumble of Creole, I understood that she was at my house. J let me borrow her car, and I hurried over. Her daughter was lying on the couch...even from six feet away, I could see the huge beads of sweat on her forehead.

Another flurry of Creole told me that she'd been vomiting the night before and had an itchy rash. What startled me was her face--she couldn't open her eyes because it was so puffy. They'd been to the hospital and were sent home with several prescriptions. I gave her money; some for the medicine, and some to save in case they needed to go back to the hospital. This was Thursday; I told her not to come Friday, even though we had a guest coming and it meant I'd need to do lots of cleaning myself.

I prayed for them in Creole: help them, they love you, they need you, please heal her. They left, B leading her daughter by the hand. In the quiet, I felt something. It's not an emotion I'm too familiar these days. I expected to be sad. Sad was a safe feeling. Sad would make sense. But I wasn't sad. I was angry. Not with them--it's not their fault. Not even with the doctors--even though they often shuffle patients off without answers. I was angry with God. I was angry because things were finally starting to line up for them, and now this happens. And there really wasn't much I could do about it.

I didn't see her Friday, but Saturday, I got a text from her that she'd be late on Monday, because her daughter needed to go back to the doctor. I texted back for B not to leave her if she was still worried about her. By then, I wasn't angry anymore...just worried. Just praying.

The Bible tells us to "hate what is evil and cling to what is good." I'm looking for the good in this...at least I had something to give them. Maybe I should have taken them myself and gotten a good diagnosis. Maybe I should have given her more money. The proverb is right--I can't take tea for someone else's fever. But knowing that she has one still upsets me.

Please pray for B and her girls.

Impact Report for Last Year

2011-07-09T08:44:00.000-05:00

I just wanted to share the new impact report from last year, because there's a longer blurb about our program...but there's some good blurbs about other programs around the world, too, so feel free to read the whole thing. :)

Impact Report 2010

From trash, a treasure

2011-07-05T17:36:00.002-05:00

We were walking through the ravine on our way to D's house. I carried a cardboard box, full of magazines, scrapbook paper, empty red cornflake boxes, empty cake mix boxes, and empty butter boxes. B's youngest daughter seemed confused. "Are we throwing this away?" she asked.

"Oh, no!" I laughed. "We need this trash!" I tried to explain the process by which D makes necklaces out of cardboard boxes, but finally gave up, lacking the word for "glue" or "bead." D's been working with the Apparent Project and has had quite a bit of success starting her own business. When I approached her about teaching B and her girls to do the same, she was enthusiastic. Quite a turn from the original D. "I can't do this. I won't be good at it." And yet, with practice, she could and she was. What a change to see her now employing other women. So cool.

It's an answer to prayer for me and for them. I've struggled with how to help one of B's girls in particular. She's 18 and wants money for beauty school, and she wanted me to give it to her. But it didn't feel right. I thought about loaning it to her, but I knew I'd never get it back. I'm trying to be more generous, so I tried to figure out if it was just me being selfish...but it felt like enabling, not empowering. I wanted to see her empowered, like D, to see how she could change her own life, without any help from me at all. She doesn't need me. I want her to know that.

It wasn't easy to say no. I'm certain she didn't understand my motives at all. But nevertheless, I wanted to help, so I set them up to work with D, with fear and trepidation, hoping, praying, it would work out well for all of them. Today was Day 1. I set them up with lots of materials, put D in charge, and skedaddled.

I hope this works. I hope this works. I hope this works.

Wordless Wednesday: English Class

2011-06-23T06:53:00.000-05:00

Thankful Thursday

2011-06-09T16:03:00.000-05:00

*Yesterday, J from church gave me a ride to and from English class, because there weren’t any cars available. He was on his way to stay with his mother-in-law, because the bridge to his house washed out in the heavy rains we had Monday night. He had to jump the neighbor’s wall to get out. I’m thankful he and his family are okay.

*I’m thankful for the new blueing that I got from Lehman’s. How something blue can make something white turn whiter is still a mystery, but I’m not complaining. (As a child, I had the same question about the blood of Christ.) I’m also thankful that the sun is out today, so that my newly-whitened laundry will actually dry.

*I’m thankful I got to go to Jayden’s birthday party on Tuesday. It’s such fun to be part of the lives of our MAF kids, especially with my own nephews far, far away.

*I’m thankful for devotionals that make me think. Right now, I’m reading one called Craving God, and it’s challenging some of my attitudes about food and entitlement. Not always a comfortable place to be, but a good one.

What are you thankful for today?

David's Day

2011-06-01T08:33:00.003-05:00

What’s a day in the life of a pilot like? Well, let me try to explain…

*Got up at 6:00. Had breakfast, found his captain’s bars, a pen, and calculator (the essentials). After a quick kiss and prayer, he was out at the gate, waiting for the carpool, by 6:45.

*Made it to the hangar by 7:15. Went through security, double-checked the schedule and filled out flight plans.

*First flight: Two people to an island called La Gonave for the Wesleyans. While he was there, our strip agent said he might have someone wanting to go with David back to Port-au-Prince. We try to take advantage of backloading flights as much as possible, but David also had more flights to do today, so he said he’d wait 20 minutes.

*20 minutes later, the passenger comes screeching up, ready to jump on the plane. However, they have to delay a few more minutes to find out who’s *paying* for this flight. Strip agent makes a call, and a few minutes later, they’re airborne for Port.

*Second flight: 900 chicks to Cap Haitian. Yes, you heard that right! They can’t be fed during transportation, so it’s essential to do it quickly. David said the smell and the noise were noticeable, so he opened the window. Tiny feathers went flying everywhere. Oops. Live and learn!

*Got to Cap Haitian safely in 30 minutes (as opposed to a six-hour drive), but it looked like weather was moving in, so he wanted to get back to Port ASAP. However, while on the ground, he got a call from our flight scheduler. There was a medical flight in Port de Paix (Port-duh-PAY) that needed picking up—could he make it? He said he’d try. So much for lunch.

*Flew to Port de Paix and waited an hour. Remember, the weather still isn’t looking great. Just as he was about to call our scheduler back and find out if they were still coming, an overflowing tap-tap pulled up. 20 family members plus the patient piled out.

*He proceeded to load the patient into the plane. The man was injured in a motorcycle accident and they were worried about paralysis. They had told our scheduler that they had a backboard for him, but it turned out to be a piece of thin plywood instead. A backboard has a place for the cargo straps so that the board won’t slide, so plywood wasn’t ideal, but they did the best they could.

*As he finished strapping him down, David looked up to see a lady cramming herself in into the tail of the plane. She figured it was a good enough seat, since the rest had been taken out to make room for the chicks. David had to tell her, “Sorry, but only one person can come along, since there’s only one seat besides mine!” She argued for a while, but got out eventually. It was determined that his brother would come with David, while the rest of the family stayed behind.

*The team from Medical Teams International was there to meet them at the airport. They too were disappointed to see the plywood instead of a backboard, but at least they brought one with them for the bumpy ride ahead. They loaded him into the back of a pickup and left for the hospital.

*After some paperwork and some food (finally), the pilots all piled back into the car at 3:00. After fighting through traffic, David arrived home at 3:45 to regale me with stories about his day.

A full, rich day for a pilot in the Caribbean! Thanks for your prayers, so that we can have days like these.

The Zapper

2011-05-26T13:26:00.001-05:00

I bought this off the street for 400 goud yesterday. He wanted 600, but I talked him down, and by the time we were done, I had him laughing and calling me "cheri"--kind of like "honey." I love that.

It's labeled a mosquito bat, but around here, we call it the zapper. It's a missionary essential, especially since rainy season is upon us and the mosquitoes are reproducing like crazy. Thus, they are making us crazy. I had another zapper, but it's battery-powered, and it doesn't work too great. This one's rechargeable and it has a flashlight. (My new friend thought this was a real selling point.)

It came with some important directions that I feel I should share with you. I feel I should share them because they are hilarious. I swear, I'm not embellishing at all.

BRAND MULTIPLE FUNCTION CAN LIGHTING ELECTRIC MOSQUITO ZAPPER is we company excogitate a new series products. It's use convenient and novelty shape. In order to easily for you to use it, please read following instruction carefully before using.

1. Before make use of it for the first time, please charging about 4-6 hours.
2. Kill mosquito method: push the electrical source switch to ON direction, press the middle button switch, the working direction light lighting, and the middle web have high voltage. (There's a reason they don't sell these in the States.) Flap and touch mosquito, mosquito will be shoot down. Loosen button switch, working indicator light go out, the web without electricity.
3. Use time: when the battery is fully charged, if it be simply used for kill mosquito about 10 days, while it be used for light can be lighted continuously about 20 hours.

NOTICE:
a. Don't give childen playing as a toy. (Oh, really? Oh man, I just gave it to an infant. Darn.)
b. Don't press switch and touch electroform web that charging. (I've done this by accident. They're serious.)
c. Do not use it at areas where flammable gas or liquid is existed. Do not often use metal etc electric object strike fire in web. (Um, I don't know what this means, but I'll be keeping it away from any metal etc.)
d. Can't wash or scrub with wet washcloth. Dead mosquito on nets can be brushed off or shaken off. (In my experience, there's nothing left anyway. This thing vaporizes them. BWA-HA-HA.)

I'm sure it made more sense in Chinese.

Why We're in Haiti

2011-05-26T06:37:00.000-05:00

http://www.google.com/hostednews/ap/article/ALeqM5hCTaCmXnNpmjkmDV9rBMuiK8q4Zg?docId=5fecf34fae894763bf6e20d435885b07

This is a well-done article about hunger in the rural parts of Haiti...I'm so thankful for the work God allows us to do in feeding these people. The area of northwest Haiti that they mention is one of our newer airstrips--the one David's supposed to be checked out on today! Hopefully, the weather will clear, and they'll be able to do the flight.

Thanks for your prayers!

King and Country

2011-05-19T13:57:00.001-05:00

I have an imagination. It gets me into trouble sometimes. Like today, I noticed some re-decoration as I crossed the ravine near our house. Someone had painted the rocks in the walls pink and white. Just a few of them on several walls (so as not to be gauche, I suppose) and halfway up the power poles. (Again, why paint the whole pole and overdo it?) Pink and white are Martelly's campaign colors; Martelly is our newly-elected president. I wasn't here for all the inauguration hubbub, because I was in Minnesota...and here, I am resisting the urge to remark snidely about how sad I was to miss it. Oops...I didn't resist hard enough.

But today, walking through the ravine, perusing the new decor, I came upon a series of letters: "GSMM." I pondered them with Will over lunch, but she didn't know what it could mean. My imagination began to churn...God Save Michel Martelly? Wrong language, but possibly, the right idea. After all, he's meant to be their savior, the end of all their problems. "It'll be like Carnival all the time," people say.

I remarked to David how unfair people were being to expect so much of Martelly, and he pointed out that Obama had the same problem. When we didn't have universal health care and no troops in Iraq on January 21st, people were irritated. They felt deceived. And the bad news is...they were. Not maliciously, mind you. But it's the same old story since I Samuel 8.

In my imagination, there's old Samuel, sitting in his rocking chair on the front porch, sipping lemonade, watching the world go by...and here comes Israel, come to pitch a fit about not having a king. Come to tell him that his sons were no good and that they wanted a king like everybody else, whatever the cost. I bet Samuel sighed. He did the right thing--he prayed about it. But it didn't help much when the guy they picked turned out to be a coward, hiding among the baggage. No king (or spouse or boss or president) can match God, and yet that's what we expect. He's what we want without knowing it.

But as I walked home, my imagination was corrected when I found it written out: "Gran Supporteur Michel Martelly." (It means he's a fan.) As usual, there's lots of speculation and rumor flying around. Someone cut the power at Martelly's inauguration, so obviously, not everybody's happy. But the pressure on this guy has to be enormous, and in light of that, I'd like to give Haiti's new president a strange benediction.

May your hopes be dashed,
that you may turn your attention to the priorities of God.

May you find out how weak you are,
that you may know Christ's power in you.

May your broken heart become a vessel of His love,

and may the good you do have an impact eternally.

Wordless Wednesday

2011-05-18T21:04:00.000-05:00

This is my first cousin once removed. The way his finger is hovering, it's like he can feel the chocolate's power, beckoning him. (I felt it, too--I had two pieces.) I visited my family last week, and it was awesome. More to come, another day...

Wordless Wednesday

2011-05-11T15:37:00.000-05:00

This is why you don't leave your resistance bands sitting on a metal bannister in the sun. Apparently, they melt!

The Stranger Inside

2011-05-10T10:46:00.000-05:00

I don't know how You love me like You do;

It's so good to belong with You.

And in the places I'm a stranger to,

It's so good to belong with you.

-Remedy Drive

These are the lyrics that brought tears to my eyes as I ran on a treadmill, overlooking the ocean. It was the culmination of a lot of things, really. My natural tendency is to hold my emotions down, like a balloon in a swimming pool. I know they're down there, but I can't really see them, and it's much safer for them to stay down there. Running is dangerous, therefore, because it gives me a chance to think and talk with God. What's even more dangerous is when He talks back.

He'd started me thinking about my place in the world through a quote by Robert Louis Stevenson: "There are no foreign lands. It is the traveler only who is foreign." I've been feeling foreign lately...not that Haiti is foreign to me, but that I am foreign to her. Walking down a dusty back road last week, two teenage girls took my picture with a cell phone. Our yard guy thinks our house should resemble Fort Knox, complete with video cameras. Haitian directness still leaves me stammering sometimes...one of my students wanted to know what time of day my husband and I have sex. (I told him he could ask David that question.)

And on a treadmill, in my "home country," I was feeling more foreign than ever. I'd been warned several times over, but didn't want to believe it. "When you leave and come back," they said, "you'll find you don't fit anywhere anymore." And looking back, I can't see how I could have avoided it. After all, I spend most of my time thinking about things most people don't give a second thought. I haven't seen the TV shows you've seen. The music that's new to me is probably old to you. The number of places "I am a stranger to" is growing, not shrinking.

And yet on that treadmill, in a moment of hot, sweaty reflection, those song lyrics reminded me that God loves the stranger, and I too am called to love the stranger, even when I find myself one. I need to take care of the stranger inside and remind her that she belongs with God...and therefore belongs everywhere. I need to be patient with her when she hurts...because sometimes, it does hurt to realize that I'll never truly get used to being a stranger.

But is it possible that this is one of those paradoxes that God seems to love so much? That the last will be first? That those who lose their lives will find it? And that those who are strangers find out what it means to belong better than anyone?

I hope so.

Thanks for your prayers for a great vacation--it was.

Target Marks the Spot

2011-04-30T08:37:00.000-05:00

See this, friends? When my passport and my sunglasses are hanging out together, it means good things are about to happen.

It all started with a late afternoon flight out of Port-au-Prince. Everything was all scheduled--the airport shuttle reserved, the hotel booked, tickets printed. I'd only forgotten one thing (my hairbrush). We stood in the long check-in line next to Hugh, who was going back to Tennessee. He'd only arrived just yesterday, but his town had suffered nine losses in the tornadoes, and he was going home to help pick up the pieces. I prayed for him.

After the waits and the pat-downs and the numerous x-ray scans of our baggage, we bought cheap cheeseburgers while waited to board that fabulous flight to the Land of Hot Showers and Fast Internet. But customs in Florida was, to be kind, quite slow, and our shuttle left without us. Hmm. So we called them on Skype (the Land of Fast Internet, remember? And it's everywhere!). They came back, and we made it to the hotel by 9:00 PM.

But friends, our sojourn was not over yet. Because as all good missionaries know, whatever you can stuff into your suitcase is customs free, and you get two free suitcases on international flights. So we still had one stop:

Isn't it beautiful? I thought so. I skipped dinner to go here, and I was not disappointed.

And just to show that He loves me, God put lots of stuff I needed on sale. It was almost like they knew I was coming. Awesome.

At 10:30, we staggered home, happy, well-supplied and poorer. Tomorrow, the true vacation begins. Thanks for praying for us--we're hoping for a restful, rejuvenating time.

Golly gee! New features!

2011-04-28T11:57:00.000-05:00

In an attempt to make reading our blog easier, I've added two new boxes in the sidebar on the right. You can now sign up to get our posts by e-mail, or add them to a reader like Google Reader. That's what I use, and I do find it handy in a busy life to help keep track of friends around the world.

Enjoy!

Thankful Thursday

2011-04-28T09:11:00.001-05:00

This Thursday, I am thankful for...

friends who *like* airport pick-ups (when most of your friends are pilots, these can be hard to find)
my washing machine (which finished its load on the first try!)
USPS.com, where I can order postage online (that's nifty)
belated Easter candy (Cadbury mini-eggs...mmm...)
kind travel agents with interesting names (Vixen?)

We are going on our first *real* vacation since we got here last March, and I. am. so. excited. Please pray for safe travels and lots of rest and quality time together.

(Mostly) Wordless Wednesday

2011-04-20T15:53:00.000-05:00

This is from a Domino's box, the only American fast-food chain we have here. If the driver is kidnapped (by aliens?), your pizza will not make it in 30 minutes. Sorry.

Radical, Part 2

2011-04-19T08:40:00.002-05:00

No, no, stay--I promise this Radical excerpt won't be as preachy as the last one. Cross my heart. You'll like it.

"When he saw the crowds, he had compassion on them, because they were harassed and helpless, like sheep without a shepherd. Then he said to his disciples, “The harvest is plentiful but the workers are few. Ask the Lord of the harvest, therefore, to send out workers into his harvest field.”

Matthew 9:36-38 NIV

Why do you think Jesus would look at the crowds around him, with all their deep needs, and then turn to his disciples and tell them to pray for themselves? The answer is humbling. When Jesus looked at the harassed and helpless multitudes, apparently his concern was not that the lost would not come to the Father. Instead, his concern was that his followers would not go to the lost (Platt 187).

Platt goes on to conclude that the billion people left in the world who've never heard of Jesus are a result of our lack of prayer. But what I see is how your prayers for God to send us have been answered. And your prayers sustain us still! Thank you for supporting us through prayer!

White Kites

2011-04-17T21:17:00.002-05:00

Thursday was a rough day.

I was in a hurry, getting ready to go down to the hangar with the carpool. In the midst of my gathering and checking and finding, David calls to me, "Gracie seems awfully excited about something this morning." That should have been a red flag. But it wasn't. I charged out into the gallery to let her out, only to find a large, dead rat at my feet. After some gagging and a few words like "yuck" and "blech" and "nasty," I commenced with clean-up and praised Grace. The praise was two-fold: 1) Thank you for not eating the rat. 2) Thank you for not letting the rat come into our house through the rather large gap under the front door. Good dog. With that behind us, I hurried out to meet the carpool.

But it got rougher.

I had a hard enough time shaking the image of the rat's glassy eyes, in their permanent stare. It was hard enough to forget its dead weight at the end of my cardboard shovel and see the bite marks of my dog on its head. But while cruising down Delmas, we saw something that stopped us in our tracks.

There was a woman lying in the road.

She was facing away from me, lying in the middle of this busy street, her hands bound behind her back. I'll just say what you're thinking: I was sure she was dead. I didn't want to look, but everyone else was staring. People were stopped on the edge of the road, arms crossed, staring. Just watching to see what would happen.

It was unbearable.

And then, as traffic began to move again, I saw her open her eyes. "She's not dead!" I gasped. "She's alive!" She had kicked off her shoes and was just lying there, her neatly-braided hair still pressed against the asphalt, trying to get her bearings. We stopped to notify a police officer who was directing traffic a few blocks down. "Someone probably just wanted to rob her," said G. But that wasn't the first thing that came to my mind. Actually, a lot of worse things came to my mind. Because a lot of those "worse things" happen to women every day here. Her image was hard to shake. Impossible, actually. I spent the rest of the day distracted by my prayers for her.

And it begged the question: "How do we balance joy and grief, especially when grief threatens to overwhelm us?"

It's kite season here in Port-au-Prince. In the last few weeks, small Haitian boys everywhere have suddenly come up with these long-stringed kites which they fly anywhere. As the warm afternoon air currents rise, they are a perfect foil to cheap plastic diversions such as these. And from my window, I can often see five at a time, just swooping and riding the breeze over the concrete rooftops.

There's a lot to love here, but there's a lot to grieve, too, and we need to have the wisdom to do both. May we not turn our eyes away from people in need. May we not ignore white kites in an afternoon sky.

God knows

2011-04-12T15:47:00.000-05:00

Hey!

I'm guest blogging over on MAF's new blog! They've got some cool stories on there from our other programs around the world.

Here's a link to my post: http://www.mafblog.com/spiritual/god-knows

We had a great time with our team from Calvary Chapel Vancouver--more on that to come...

Mango Dog!

2011-04-01T07:45:00.001-05:00

This is my dog. She is a weird, weird dog. Don't believe me? See for yourself! I caught Gracie today, too, but she quit before I could get my camera.

There's a conspiracy against me eating my own mangoes! I'm fighting them on every side! More evidence can be found here: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=5UOVxpFgvBI

Who I Sat With Today

2011-03-30T12:48:00.001-05:00

Today, I sat with Marie. She was sitting outside my gate when I came back from the grocery store. I don't love living on a busy street, but it does give me the opportunity to meet some of the women who are begging.

Marie has five kids, all of whom are grown, none of whom can find work. I brought her some filtered water in a tin cup and a package of four crackers. She couldn't get the package open, so I helped.

I've helped other women who were begging outside my gate before, and I've learned a few things. When they truly need it, they open the crackers and eat them right there instead of saving them. Marie ate. I held the package as one by one, she savored them. I told her not to hurry through it.

I can see down onto the street when I get on my treadmill, and I've watched other women down there. I watched one gal for thirty minutes one time, and the only person who gave her anything was a child of about ten. Maybe that's what God means when He says that only those who become like a child will enter the kingdom of heaven.

I don't always bring the ladies food and water, but I try to at least offer some change. But today, when I saw Marie, I really felt that I was supposed to sit with her. And as I sat, a bunch of school kids who like to bother my dogs walked by. I wondered what they thought, seeing this "rich lady" sitting in the dusty, trashy street with Marie. More people waved and said hello than usually do when I'm on the street. Maybe they saw me as a person. Or maybe they just saw me. Funny how when we associate with the "lowly," we realize how alike we all are.

Thanks for your prayers.

Radical, Part 1

2011-03-27T17:42:00.000-05:00

I just finished a book called Radical, which some of you have probably read...and if you haven't, you'll get to read at least part of it. (Bwa-ha-ha.) This excerpt has been burning in my mind since I read it:

[The author, David Platt] got up to preach on going to all nations with the gospel. When I finished, I walked down to the front while the pastor got up to close the service. These were his words: "Brother David, we are so excited about all that God is doing in New Orleans and in all nations, and we are excited that you are serving there." He continued, "And, brother, we promise that we will continue to send you a check so that we don't have to go there ourselves."

He wasn't finished.

"I remember a time at my last congregation when a missionary from Japan came to speak," he said. "I told that church that if they didn't give financial support to this missionary, I was going to pray that God would send their kids to Japan to serve with that missionary."

Wow.

Did the pastor just threaten his congregation with the punishment of going to the world?

He continued, "And my church gave that man a laptop and a whole lot of money."

Apparently the threat worked...Could it be that this deacon and this pastor expressed what most professing Christians in America today believe but are not bold enough to say? (Platt, 63).

And at this point, I feel I must be perfectly clear.

I do not feel punished.

Yes, crazy though it may seem, I actually believe that God's will for my life is the best possible scenario for me in every respect. Living in Haiti is a blessing--to me. Our life here is the product of prayer--yours and others--for the nation of Haiti, that her people might become God's people. While we raised our support, I met people who had been praying for Haiti for years, and they expressed to us their joy at seeing us sent here.

[Christine steps up onto her soap box and clears her throat.]

Making disciples, followers of Jesus Christ, in Haiti is the greatest adventure of my life--not because I'm in Haiti, but because it is a page in the redemptive history that God is writing. My page happens to take place in Haiti, but my calling is the same as yours. "Therefore, we are ambassadors for Christ, as though God were making an appeal through us; we beg you on behalf of Christ, be reconciled to God."

We beg you to sign the peace treaty God offers in Christ. We beg you to lay down your arms and join an unseen kingdom of orphans now adopted, of prisoners now free, of the strong now weak, of the wise now foolish.

Again, I feel I must be perfectly clear--I understand that I look foolish. Someone asked me once if there's much money in what we do...I said no, not really. Someone asked me once if I wasn't afraid to live in an unstable country...I said, sure, who wouldn't be? Someone asked me once how I could squander my college education on staying home, taking care of my husband and [future] children...I said I didn't think it would be wasted.

I get that people will look at us and see altruism--a selfless [if not misguided] concern for the welfare of others. If only they knew how selfish we truly are and how much God's grace has changed us. If only they knew that I wouldn't be here if I just thought I was putting food into hungry mouths and medicine into sick bodies and English into Haitian minds. If I thought that was it, I'd be gone.

Praise God for His work in us. Praise God that He is sending out ambassadors, not because they're all that great or selfless, but because His love compels them.

If we are “out of our mind,” as some say, it is for God; if we are in our right mind, it is for you. For Christ’s love compels us, because we are convinced that one died for all, and therefore all died. And he died for all, that those who live should no longer live for themselves but for him who died for them and was raised again.

[Christine steps off soap box.]

Thank you for your indulgence.

If a tree falls in the forest, should you replant it?

2011-03-25T16:48:00.001-05:00

Do I look happy in this picture? It's only because I am. In this picture, I am on my way to the Dominican Republic for our MAF retreat. It was a much-needed rest...for four days, there were no trucks barreling by. I took a hot shower (okay, more than one), and then stayed clean. I felt the sand between my toes.

It was glorious.

But along the way, I got a birdseye view of one of Haiti's more serious problems.

This is what Haiti looks like from the air.

This is what the Dominican Republic looks like from the air:

In case you missed it, these two nations are on the same island. The only distinguishing factor is the way the land's been treated. The Nature Conservancy reports that the DR just expanded its protected territories by three million acres in 2009. As far as I know, Haiti only has one protected park.

What difference does that make? Maybe a lot.

Because when we were in the DR, I noticed that it rained. A lot. In order to get rain, you need trees. They reflect heat back into the atmosphere and release moisture into the air. In order to get crops, you need rain. Crops make for a stronger economy. In order to have a strong economy, you need...products. As it is, Haitians import almost all of their chief staple: rice. (Here's a fascinating but sad article about how cholera has affected rice production here.)

Haitians are forced to import a lot of food products, actually. The soil here is poor, they say. Really? They don't seem to have that problem over the border. Remember how I said I was clean in the DR? It's because their ground stays on the ground, rooted down by trees instead of flying on the wind. I learned in school that soil erosion is connected to deforestion...but maybe they're not teaching that here.

So the solution is simple, you say. Just plant more trees.

And we are planting more trees--that's one of the ministries of our church here. So do the MCC and lots of other organizations. But who's going to water these seeds? And who's going to keep the goats away from the young seedlings? And if they grow, who will protect them from people wanting to make charcoal? And with only 2% of Haiti's forests still standing, will it make a difference?

I don't know. I wish I did. Here's what I do know...

This pilot is working that uniform.

One Year

2011-03-09T13:36:00.001-05:00

Happy anniversary, friends! We've been in Haiti for one year today, and I can hardly recount all the things we've done and seen and learned over the last year. Our pastor, Serge, was marveling the other day that we could adjust to life here at all...and to be honest, I'm still baffled by it myself sometimes.

Like chickens.

Chickens running around in the street seem normal now. Ditto for goats, their kids, Haitian kids and dogs. I tune them out day and night.

Like coconuts.

I opened this coconut all by myself last week using a machete. (No fingers were harmed in the writing of this blog.) Fresh coconut in our granola is a favorite around here. I used to buy shredded coconut for 363 goud a bag...but I bought this one in the market for ten. Score one for the blan.

Like counting the days. When we first got here, I did this:

I got through our first few weeks in the village by daily reminding myself that it would be over someday. I know I haven't shared many of the "downs" of our "up's and down's," and that's partly intentional. I don't want you to worry about us, and I'm allergic to complaining. But suffice it to say, it hasn't all been easy...but we're where we're supposed to be.

Like home.

It's here now, in Haiti. Its foreignness is slowly, systematically, being replaced by familiarity. Home now means dusty roads and cold showers and kompa music outside and the dripping of my water filter. It's bananas in my tree and hummingbirds in my yard. It's uniformed school kids and afternoon thunderstorms and barking dogs.

Oh, speaking of which, Gracie says hi.

Thanks for bearing our burderns through your prayers this year. We're grateful. Please keep praying for God's direction and leading for us.

Funny food

2011-03-03T10:51:00.001-05:00

While I do have two or three "normal" grocery stores that I frequent here, some of the products still remind me that I'm not in Kansas anymore...

For instance. Fat filled milk powder? Is the fat added, or was it already there?

My mom-in-law, Kathy, tried to tell me that there was no nutrition information on this peanut butter. Shows what she knows.

Magic Time is one of my favorite cheaper brands...and also, it makes me laugh.

Pinto beans are called "Miami beans" here...only Miami is pronounced MEE-ah-MEE in Creole. Took me a while to figure that one out...the guy explaining it thought I was the dumbest American ever. Didn't even know where MEE-ah-MEE was.

Oh, are you still drinking juice at your house? We've moved up to nectar.

For export only, huh? I'm afraid to ask why. David says it's because this is the wheat germ that fell on the floor and they don't want to get sued. We ate it anyway. We didn't die.

"Is this the brand you want?"

"Oh, sure, fine, whatever."

Because clearly, we didn't think they were arrogant enough already. FRENCH butter, people. From FRANCE. I'm surprised they stooped to printing it in English. And yet, they don't even have the decency to give you a full cup of butter so you can make cookies.

Aw, man! I got some ultra food encrusted on my dishes, but I only have NON-ultra dish soap. Rats!

On a more serious note, the Caravan meeting...didn't happen. They're still trying to get it set up, because the official who was supposed to help us had to be with his wife, who was in a car accident in the States. His wife's okay, but please be praying for her and for the official and for the meeting...and of course, for God's will to be done.

Thanks, guys.

Parental Visit

2011-03-02T07:17:00.000-05:00

David's parents were with us last week (yes, it was SO good to see them), and out of their experience, his dad wrote a blog post. And it was great! So I thought I'd share:

Emergency Flight

Enjoy! And please remember to pray for the Caravan's approval...they're supposed to be having meetings today!

Christine

Dreams Tied Down

2011-02-24T09:42:00.003-05:00

When you have a dream to see something happen, it's sometimes more of a burden than a blessing. Because more often than not, if your life is like mine, a dream means waiting.

And waiting.

And waiting.

Having a Cessna Caravan (picture above) has been a dream for the pilots of the Haiti program for a long time. For years now, they've been trying to figure out a way to move more people here, so we're not constantly turning down flights for larger groups. Having to shuttle people back and forth in the 206's and 207's is okay...but it's harder on them and on us. And sometimes, the size of the group makes it downright impossible. Plus, it ties up all our airplanes for a few hours, instead of just one flight. It's always been obvious that a Caravan could be very useful here.

After the earthquake, MAF got emergency approval to fly a Caravan here, thanks to Priority Air Charter, who supplied the plane and the pilot. Using the Caravan meant being able to fly huge loads of food from the World Food Program to displaced people around the country. Its increased capacity regarding people and cargo (it seats 12 instead of 5) was a huge blessing to many here...and people who had prayed prayed prayed for this to happen got a taste of what it would be like.

So after lots of discussion, prayer, and research, we pursued leasing a Caravan from Samaritan's Purse, based on good authority from someone in the government that they'd approve its registration.

And yet, after four months, here it sits. On our ramp. Waiting.

The government has concerns about the safety of the Caravan. There have been meetings with experts. Phone calls. More meetings. Letters. E-mails. And as of this moment, it sits.

However...someone from the Justice department happened to fly with us this week, and we happened to bring up our predicament. And now, much to our delight, he's trying to help.

The meeting is supposed to happen Wednesday, and we really need prayer. Because we want this dream to happen...but only in God's timing and plan, if it's truly from Him. We can see why it would make sense--we can see how good it would be. And now, we're getting the first forward progress toward registration that we've had since it got here. But we also know that good can get in the way of God's best, and dreams have a way of strengthening our resolve, even when they shouldn't.

Pray that we won't stick our foot in the door if God's closing it. Pray for our relationships with the government here, that they would glorify God. But most of all, please pray that we'd be able to use the Caravan to show His love and increase His glory here.

Strike

2011-02-23T16:50:00.004-05:00

Student Hunger Strike, Port-au-Prince, Haiti
Originally uploaded by Gaetantguevara

I saw this on Twitter. (Yes, I do Twitter. Don't judge me.)

These students have been on a hunger strike for 11 days in order to get a better education.

One of them is in grave condition in the hospital.

And it begged the question...what would I starve myself for?

What would you?

In case you were wondering...

2011-02-18T08:10:00.001-05:00

Headquarters has just come out with some info about our impact in Haiti over the last year, so I thought I'd share. (Well, it describes our measurable impact. Some things aren't quantifiable.)

MAF served a significant role in the international relief efforts following the January 2010 earthquake. The MAF base at the Port-au-Prince airport became the staging and warehouse area for dozens of aid agencies. During the initial three months of the crisis, MAF conducted 1,037 relief flights within Haiti, transported 1,801 passengers, and delivered 315,498 pounds of cargo.

In partnership with Missionary Flights International, MAF also served a significant role in coordinating 200 round-trip flights from Florida to Haiti, assisting with the transport of 3,500 passengers, and processing 1.5 million pounds of relief supplies. When cholera struck in late 2010, MAF assisted Samaritan’s Purse, Doctors Without Borders, Medical Teams International, and other organizations by transporting medical personnel, medicines, IV solution, water purification systems, and other supplies to combat the outbreak.

MAF Haiti staff recently had an opportunity to minister in a different way by building homes for families whose houses collapsed in the earthquake. Through gifts from generous friends, MAF purchased materials for 26 structures and built them on the existing foundations. The houses are well-anchored, sturdy, and much appreciated by the families that were previously living in tents.

In 2010, the MAF Haiti program completed 3,336 flights, carried 7,698 passengers, and 1.4 million pounds of cargo. This is a 77 percent increase in cargo over 2009.

To read the rest of the statement about MAF's worldwide ministry, you can click here.

Without your prayer support, none of this would be possible! Thank you!!

Tests

2011-02-15T08:17:00.000-05:00

It's difficult to give you a peek into my English classes, but I am determined to try. English III had their first "real" test today, and I knew they were nervous. I had printed out the twenty, one-sided tests the night before, because I can only print when I have city power, and I didn't want to risk it. I wrote three rules on the white board in red marker to show I meant business.

1. No cheating. (I didn't have to explain that, but I did have to translate it.)

2. No Creole. (My last class was famous for whispering in Creole; they were "just asking for a pen.")

3. No yelling out the answers. (We do yell them out when we practice together, so this is a harder skill to master than it might seem.)

The test began. "How much time do we have?" As much as you need. "Can we use a book?" Yes, you may use a book to write on, but only if it stays closed. (We don't have desks.)

I watched them think. I love watching people think.

I watched E, my nursing mother. She finished in a fraction of the time with 97% accuracy. She only has to be told a word once, and she's got it. Her ability to generalize and synthesize what I teach her is incredible. I want to put her on a plane to Harvard, yesterday. She and her son J live in a tent on the church property.

I watched M, who was fishing for a hint, even though he didn't need one. "Is that a breakfast food?" I nod, smiling.

I watched U, one of my older students who tends to struggle. She tried to convince me that goat was a fruit the other day. She's a hoot.

I watched F, who hardly says a word, but was acing the test nonetheless. It's always the quiet ones, I find, who surprise me.

I watched B, the only student who had to repeat my class...the test wasn't going great for him, and it's hard to watch. He really tries hard.

Tests have always been hard for me. In a well-crafted test, fairness and challenge are carefully balanced, and there are no misleading or "tricky" questions. I always agonize over how much time to spend in the test as related to the time spent on a subject in class, how much credit to devote to certain concepts. Today, I had to scrap part of it, because they just weren't understanding what I wanted. They knew the concepts, but they'd never been asked to express them that way, and it didn't take. Cultural blunder. So I modified. I'm getting pretty good at that.

I corrected their tests while they chatted together and watched a review lesson. C came up and offered me a lollipop, and I took it, grateful for the kind gesture, even though I looked ridiculous teaching with a lollipop in my hand. They all seemed fairly satisfied with their grades, and we squeezed in one more video segment which introduced colors.

But it wasn't until English IV that I remembered that the pain of tests is universal. Though we're studying I Thessalonians, we somehow got onto Mark 4, the parable of the sower. S has been asking a lot of questions lately--quite a switch from last session, when he more-or-less tolerated the Bible studies, giving the "right answers," but I knew he was playing me. It started like it starts for so many: controversy. "My friend said women can teach in the church, but I heard that wasn't true. Can you give me some verses so I can argue with him?" I laughed and obliged. Next it was spiritual warfare--"How do we know if a spirit is good or bad?"

And today, I could tell his heart was heavy. I thought it might be Valentine's Day; he's in a long-distance relationship. But it wasn't. He came up after everyone else had left, and pointed to my crude drawing of vines choking the plant. "That makes me sad," he said in English, "because I feel like that. I want to have faith in Jesus, but it's so hard not to have work. I just pray and pray. But this Bible study is good, because it reminds me that I can trust Him, that everything is possible with Him. So thanks."

If I ever find a more humbling job than this, I'll let you know...but don't hold your breath.

A Morning with Me

2011-02-07T21:31:00.000-05:00

I admit it: I had a bad attitude in the car this morning. Bumping down the road, running a bit late, I found my mind wandering...your mind really shouldn't wander when you drive here. Because if your mind wanders, you won't notice the people wandering...out in front of your car.

I'm teaching two English classes at our church, and I really love it. It's my first foray into teaching adults, and it's proven to be a different kind of challenge. For one thing, there's no classroom management--if they talk over me or choose to ignore me or fall asleep (which is actually quite common), it's not my problem. That takes a surprising amount of pressure off.

But today, my attitude needed adjustment. I was tired. The circus tent I teach in gets oppressively hot, but the fan is obnoxiously loud. My new yard guy, O, was scheduled to start work today in the afternoon, and I was stressed about it. I was preoccupied by rumors of protests while we have a visitor. (I like visitors, but I do worry about them.) I breathed a quiet prayer as I pulled into the soccer field to park. Ducking into my section of the tent, I found five or six students already waiting for me.

"Good morning," I greeted them. I was genuinely more cheery now that I'm here and I slung my big bag over the folding chair next to the TV. Inside my bag are my essentials: Creole/English dictionary, Nalgene with filtered water, an orange, hand sanitizer, dry erase markers, a handkerchief to wipe off the sweat and dust, and mace. "Good morning, teacher," they chorus back. I sigh. I keep telling them it's okay to just call me Christine, but they can't seem to manage it. Still, there's a definite camaraderie growing...they feel more free to ask questions, even if they're not sure how to phrase them. They make jokes. They correct me if I make mistakes or go too quickly.

The time goes fast. English III learned to make introductions and practiced reading and using the sounds "c" and "wh" and "j." English IV was supposed to listen to a podcast I'd downloaded for English learners, but I forgot to bring my speakers. So instead, we talked. We talked about the orphanage the church runs...they have ten boys and one girl. We talked about marriage, and I found out that women usually marry between the ages of 18 and 25, and men usually marry between the ages of 25 and 35, because they need to find a good job first. (They thought I was nuts for marrying at 20. Second-best decision I ever made.) We talked politics a little...the rumors of protests were true and had to do with the current president, who was supposed to leave office today. M said the streets had been too quiet on her way to the church this morning, and she wanted to leave early to pick up her girls from school.

We decided to wrap up the conversation and start our Bible study. We're (slowly) working our way through 1 Thessalonians, and today's verses focused on how Paul loved and exhorted them as a family, because in truth, they are. I had to chuckle (inwardly) at the part about nursing mothers, because one of my students breastfeeds (uncovered) during class, and it doesn't bother anyone. I would never discourage it, because a lot of babies here die of malnutrition, and breastfeeding is essential to a healthy start...but I still chuckle.

I checked my phone as we parted ways until Wednesday. Eight missed calls. Oops. Not good. It was David, concerned about protests, wanting to see if I'd made it to class, wanting to see if I was going home. I was. After a very garbled phone call, in which I said "CAN YOU SAY THAT AGAIN?" about two hundred times, I canceled O's first day of work. I took it slow on the way home, watching for signs of trouble, but things were very quiet on the shortcut I take. I find out later that the main roads I would usually take were blocked with burning tires...thank God for back roads.

I returned the car to another MAF house and only had to give one guy the brush-off before I arrived home. B was still here, and I told her to hurry up and go home, not wanting her girls to be alone. She grinned. I asked her if she's been giving Gracie extra food, and she laughed. "We're friends now," she said, "and she always looks so hungry." That explains a lot...if dog food wasn't $60 a bag, I might not care so much. "Well, she's getting fat, so quit it," I said with a smile. I make myself a sandwich and pull out the orange I forgot to eat.

And it's only 1:45...