I'm bouncing along on the back of the moto, passing scenes that are repeatedly different, exotic, and unforgettable. We ride on the dirt roads for a little while, where last night's rain created huge puddles that we creep through and still get splashed anyway. We pass pigs feeding on piles of garbage, lots of tiny little houses made of mud or corrugated tin, and a tiny little brown puppy trying rip the last few crumbs of food out of a bit of foil packaging. We mount to the top of a hill and see all of Port-au-Prince stretching out before us, and the distant mountains towering over all.
Eventually we make it on to the paved roads, where houses are built of cinder blocks without facade and people are bringing their things to market and men are making kissy-lips at me when I pass.
I have realized that my initial impression that there were no stores in Haiti was wrong--it's just that I didn't know where to look. Suddenly it dawned on me that the store is the street. Instead of aisles, sidewalks. Instead of parking your car and walking in, you just drive down the street until you see what you want, stop the car, roll down the window, ask for what you want, hand over the money, and drive on. We bought diapers out of a wheelbarrow in this way the other day. It's like a huge drive-through. Each person has about as much for sale as one can carry on his or her head, and each person has a different kind of product.
I called the moto because all I wanted to do was get some money at an ATM. At home, this would be a 15-minute affair. Pop out to the nearest bank, card in, money out, remove card, go home. Not so in Haiti. I'm discovering that everything takes longer here. Not just a little longer, but prohibitively longer.
The nearest bank is across town, and traffic is heavy. We weave in and out of the traffic, going through roundabouts at a perpendicular angle to the direction the cars are traveling. My knees pass inches away from moving dump truck tires and car bumpers and the ubiquitous tap-taps. My driver honks his horn at pedestrians who weave in and out, trying to cross the street or hop onto a tap-tap. I see one man running along with a slow-moving car, wiping it down with a rag in exchange for a few goudes.
Half an hour later, we arrive at the bank and I dismount. I scan the outside of the bank. No ATM. I check the other wall. No ATM there, either. So... maybe it's inside? But there's a line of about 100 people stretching out the door. What in the world? I go up to the front of the line and poke my head in to ask the security guard if there's an ATM inside and if I can go inside to use it without waiting in line. He says there is none, and says, "56."
"56?" I repeat with a blank look on my face.
"56," he repeats. "Five, six."
"Five, six," I echo, still clueless.
"56 Delmas," he says. That sounds like an address. I go hop back on the moto and repeat that to the driver. He nods and we take off.
At 56 Delmas we stop at a different bank. I get off and scope this one out. Still no ATM. I ask the guard. "52," he says. I figure that is an address just like the 56. The moto driver seems to think so, and he takes off.
At the third bank, the guard outside says the ATM is inside. Finally! I go inside, and a guard there tells me that the ATM is for Haitians only and that I must go to the counter.
I go to the counter. "5,000 gourdes, please," I say to the woman.
"No," she says. "100 dollars."
I shrug. 5,000 gourdes would be 125 dollars, but I'll settle for $100, which would be about 4,000 gourdes. I figure that this is the bank's clever racket. If I put my card into the ATM and ask for 4,000 gourdes, it will spit out gourdes at the "official" exchange rate, but if the bank runs my credit card for $100, then they can give me gourdes at their own rate, taking their own cut out of the percentage they set for exchange.
She scans my credit card and driver's license and makes a printout, causing me to be very nervous with the possibility of identity theft. This is a bank, presumably a professional institution, but this is also Haiti. Why couldn't I just use the ATM? I think. That would be a lot easier; a lot safer; a lot quicker.
Then she makes me sign a paper and take it over to another counter.
I am the 5th person in line at this counter, but I count 35 people in line for the other counter, so I'm very grateful for the fact that I don't have to be in that line. Why does it have to be so difficult just to go to the bank?
I finally get up to the counter and hand my paper to the teller. He hands me back a $100 bill in US money. I look at it. "What?" I say. "No, I wanted gourdes."
"Well this paper says you wanted $100," he says.
"I asked the lady over there for gourdes, and she made me change it to dollars," I said. I really couldn't use a $100 bill. How would I ever break it? Fortunately, I had seen a woman two people ahead of me in line with a $100 bill in her hand, and I had seen them give her Haitian currency for it.
I handed the bill back to the teller. "Can you just change this for gourdes?" I asked.
He looked at it as if he was making a huge concession for me, being a hero and getting me out of my difficulty. He filled out another paper, made me sign it, and counted out the money. I got back 4120 gourdes, which, according to today's rate at xe.com, should have been 4215 gourdes. So they did get their cut after all, about 100 gourdes, or $2.50, which would be 2.5% of my $100.
I ask the teller, "Am I really not allowed to use the ATM?"
"No, you have to come to this counter," he says.
"Hmmm," I reply, silently vowing to find another ATM somewhere. If they have one in Saint Marc, they must have one here somewhere. This is Port-au-Prince, after all.
Finally, I leave the bank and hop back on the moto. We start back towards where we came from. Despite the fact that this is the middle of January, the sun is blazing hot (today's high was 86), and I can feel my face and my arms starting to burn. Dust flying in the air has already caked my hair with a grimy layer.
We drive by people digging ditches, a funeral procession that has traffic backed up for miles in the other direction, and some children who wave when they see a white woman on the back of a motorcycle. I wave back.
The moto driver stops at the gas station and puts 100 gourdes worth in the tank. That gives him half a gallon, making gas approximately $5.00 a gallon. Not nearly as bad as the UK!
By the time we get to our starting point, two and a half hours have passed. I am exhausted and thirsty from my trek, even though the moto has done all the work. I am toasted pink all over on every bit of exposed skin from the sun.
But there is a little smile playing on my lips and a little excitement leaping up in my heart at the fact that this is where I am and these are the kinds of things I get to do and see and experience.
Saturday, January 26, 2013
Friday, January 18, 2013
First day back to work
Today I got to go to the creche. The instant I walked in the door, I was flooded with hugs, as all the children ran to gather around me and smothered me in a huge group hug. One or two of them hung back a bit, perhaps shy, or perhaps wondering if they would be accepted, and I pursued them and didn't let them get away with a big hug. Then it was just like old times. I felt like I had never left.
School went smoothly and we had a great time playing "Race to 100" with the base 10 set that was so generously donated to me right before I left. (Thanks, Becky!!) That was new to them and I think they enjoyed getting to work with a new kind of manipulative.
Right before lunchtime, we had a prayer meeting at the creche. They have begun meeting daily to pray corporately for about half an hour. All the school children and I joined in, and it was the hugest blessing to participate in that. Oh, how they prayed! They prayed for the children and for the creche in many fervent petitions that were beyond my comprehension level of Creole. All the children and adults were praying in unison, lifting up their hearts to God in faith and confidence, addressing Him as if He really were present, and praying as if they were truly communicating with God.
I prayed in English right along with them, particularly asking God for the creche on the basis of the phrase from the Lord's prayer, "Thy will be done in earth as it is in heaven." In Ephesians 1:11 it says that God works all things after the counsel of His own will. In heaven, there is no crying, pain, sickness, discord, or suffering. So I asked for a little piece of heaven on earth, that the will of God would be done on earth the way it is already done in heaven. I asked in faith, based on the fact that Jesus has literally commanded us to pray this way. Audacious prayer--but is it possible that "we have not because we ask not?"
After some time of fervent prayer, we broke into song, and how they sang! They sang at the tops of their voices, belting out the hymns of praise to God. Then we had more prayer. We sang again. We prayed again. We sang another hymn. And then one member of the group closed in prayer. Ah! What a blessing and privilege it is that our Haitian staff can lead a prayer meeting that is full of the Spirit of God and power.
School went smoothly and we had a great time playing "Race to 100" with the base 10 set that was so generously donated to me right before I left. (Thanks, Becky!!) That was new to them and I think they enjoyed getting to work with a new kind of manipulative.
Right before lunchtime, we had a prayer meeting at the creche. They have begun meeting daily to pray corporately for about half an hour. All the school children and I joined in, and it was the hugest blessing to participate in that. Oh, how they prayed! They prayed for the children and for the creche in many fervent petitions that were beyond my comprehension level of Creole. All the children and adults were praying in unison, lifting up their hearts to God in faith and confidence, addressing Him as if He really were present, and praying as if they were truly communicating with God.
I prayed in English right along with them, particularly asking God for the creche on the basis of the phrase from the Lord's prayer, "Thy will be done in earth as it is in heaven." In Ephesians 1:11 it says that God works all things after the counsel of His own will. In heaven, there is no crying, pain, sickness, discord, or suffering. So I asked for a little piece of heaven on earth, that the will of God would be done on earth the way it is already done in heaven. I asked in faith, based on the fact that Jesus has literally commanded us to pray this way. Audacious prayer--but is it possible that "we have not because we ask not?"
After some time of fervent prayer, we broke into song, and how they sang! They sang at the tops of their voices, belting out the hymns of praise to God. Then we had more prayer. We sang again. We prayed again. We sang another hymn. And then one member of the group closed in prayer. Ah! What a blessing and privilege it is that our Haitian staff can lead a prayer meeting that is full of the Spirit of God and power.
Thursday, January 17, 2013
Taming the chaos
Unfortunately, I do not have a camera. It fell face-down in the sand, and now when you turn it on, the lens cannot come out. Hopefully I can use a sharp needle or something and pick all the grains of sand out to get it working again, but in the meantime, you'll just have to put up with my word pictures for this one.
Imagine that you arrive in Haiti. You walk into your new room. The room is half the size of your other room. 5 girls and 4-6 kids used to live in that other room, but ever since you started living there alone, you kind of inexplicably spread out.
Now all that stuff is in half the space, and you have two additional 50-lb. suitcases to unload into the mix.
You start by getting a good night's sleep. At 7:00 the next morning, you remove everything from the closets. You have four suitcases in there. One is your clothes that you left in Haiti, and one is school supplies...but what are those other two???
Ohhhhh! One is all your books, and one is full of random odds and ends, like hangers, a dust ruffle for a baby bed, and a pack-n-play. You used to have a shelf in the other room, but now you don't, leaving quite a dilemma for what to do with the books.
Suitcases start to line all the edges of the room. Then you start unloading all the shelves.
What is all this stuff???
There are bottles of sunscreen, bug spray, lotion, extra shampoo, and an assortment of medications. You line up the bottles 3 deep along the wall in the hallway.
Then you get a rag and a basin with hot water and lavender castile soap and you start to wash the shelves off. The top two shelves are so dusty, you wonder if anyone has ever done this before. You wipe the tops and the bottoms of the shelves, as well as the side walls and the back. The water gets so dirty so fast you have to change it about every two shelves. You also wash the floor, walls, and ceiling of the closet.
As you do this, you notice loads of mosquitoes floating around in the air at the back of the shelves and closet. You get at least a dozen mosquito bites. You try not to think about malaria. You think thoughts of making this shelving area as inhospitable to bugs as possible, and you pour in a little extra lavender castile soap the next time you change the water.
The rag you are wiping everything down with goes from a perfectly-normal looking rag to having so many holes in it that it's basically just the palm of your hand wiping things down anymore. How did it waste away so significantly? you wonder. Did little bits of it just rub off along the way, or did the holes just open up between parts of the material, leaving about the same amount of rag as you had before?
Finally, with a sigh of satisfaction, you gaze over the nice, clean shelves and closet space, and you begin to tackle the unpacking. Soon, both beds are covered with a pile of stuff, and very little floor space remains for walking between the different points of the room.
Hours pass. 12:00. 2:00. The piles are so daunting. Sorting out the clothes and putting them away was the easy part, but now, what to do with all the rest of this stuff? The clothes barely made a dent. How in the world did I acquire this much stuff? I guess I inherited most of it when the girls left.
5:00. 6:00. The pile is almost gone now. Just a few more things on the bed, and I can finally be done.
Yes, it took me an entire day to unpack. How wrong is that? I need skills for making clutter like that disappear. I got through it, but every minute, it felt like I was racking my brain, trying to think, think, think, "What do I do now? What can I possibly do with this thing? Where can that go? How do I find or make a place for this? Where do I put this miscellaneous item?" The thing that took me the longest was getting stuck and simply being unable to think. I would look over the pile of chaos and be completely clueless of what I could do next. Why is that? Eventually one step would dawn on me, and I would do that thing. Put these shoes in this little cubby. Ok, got that. Put that bin under there. Use this shelf for the books. Little by little, I got it all accomplished.
So does anyone else experience this paralysis when it comes to organizing?
And for those of you who organize effortlessly, how do you do it? And more specifically, how does your brain work while you're doing it? How does it know how to direct your actions so that you can rapidly and efficiently sort everything out without confusion-based delays?
Any advice?
~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~
*Edit: Just to clarify the confusion about the shelves (see Katherine's comment), here are two pictures from my old room that show what I was talking about.
Imagine that you arrive in Haiti. You walk into your new room. The room is half the size of your other room. 5 girls and 4-6 kids used to live in that other room, but ever since you started living there alone, you kind of inexplicably spread out.
Now all that stuff is in half the space, and you have two additional 50-lb. suitcases to unload into the mix.
You start by getting a good night's sleep. At 7:00 the next morning, you remove everything from the closets. You have four suitcases in there. One is your clothes that you left in Haiti, and one is school supplies...but what are those other two???
Ohhhhh! One is all your books, and one is full of random odds and ends, like hangers, a dust ruffle for a baby bed, and a pack-n-play. You used to have a shelf in the other room, but now you don't, leaving quite a dilemma for what to do with the books.
Suitcases start to line all the edges of the room. Then you start unloading all the shelves.
What is all this stuff???
There are bottles of sunscreen, bug spray, lotion, extra shampoo, and an assortment of medications. You line up the bottles 3 deep along the wall in the hallway.
Then you get a rag and a basin with hot water and lavender castile soap and you start to wash the shelves off. The top two shelves are so dusty, you wonder if anyone has ever done this before. You wipe the tops and the bottoms of the shelves, as well as the side walls and the back. The water gets so dirty so fast you have to change it about every two shelves. You also wash the floor, walls, and ceiling of the closet.
As you do this, you notice loads of mosquitoes floating around in the air at the back of the shelves and closet. You get at least a dozen mosquito bites. You try not to think about malaria. You think thoughts of making this shelving area as inhospitable to bugs as possible, and you pour in a little extra lavender castile soap the next time you change the water.
The rag you are wiping everything down with goes from a perfectly-normal looking rag to having so many holes in it that it's basically just the palm of your hand wiping things down anymore. How did it waste away so significantly? you wonder. Did little bits of it just rub off along the way, or did the holes just open up between parts of the material, leaving about the same amount of rag as you had before?
Finally, with a sigh of satisfaction, you gaze over the nice, clean shelves and closet space, and you begin to tackle the unpacking. Soon, both beds are covered with a pile of stuff, and very little floor space remains for walking between the different points of the room.
Hours pass. 12:00. 2:00. The piles are so daunting. Sorting out the clothes and putting them away was the easy part, but now, what to do with all the rest of this stuff? The clothes barely made a dent. How in the world did I acquire this much stuff? I guess I inherited most of it when the girls left.
5:00. 6:00. The pile is almost gone now. Just a few more things on the bed, and I can finally be done.
Yes, it took me an entire day to unpack. How wrong is that? I need skills for making clutter like that disappear. I got through it, but every minute, it felt like I was racking my brain, trying to think, think, think, "What do I do now? What can I possibly do with this thing? Where can that go? How do I find or make a place for this? Where do I put this miscellaneous item?" The thing that took me the longest was getting stuck and simply being unable to think. I would look over the pile of chaos and be completely clueless of what I could do next. Why is that? Eventually one step would dawn on me, and I would do that thing. Put these shoes in this little cubby. Ok, got that. Put that bin under there. Use this shelf for the books. Little by little, I got it all accomplished.
So does anyone else experience this paralysis when it comes to organizing?
And for those of you who organize effortlessly, how do you do it? And more specifically, how does your brain work while you're doing it? How does it know how to direct your actions so that you can rapidly and efficiently sort everything out without confusion-based delays?
Any advice?
~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~
*Edit: Just to clarify the confusion about the shelves (see Katherine's comment), here are two pictures from my old room that show what I was talking about.
 |
| This little wall dividing the room into two halves is the shelf that I no longer have |
 |
| These shelves are the ones I was washing, and where I eventually found a spot for my books |
Wednesday, January 16, 2013
I'm back!
Back to blogging, and back to....
I hope to post some back-dated articles about my trip home, so you might want to check for them later (scroll down on the home page of my blog, past this article, and they should show up between "Year in Review," which was my last post of 2012, and this post).
Ah, yes! So I'm in Haiti again.
All day yesterday, the eve of my departure, it didn't seem real that I was going--or at least, it didn't seem like I was going somewhere drastic and far away. I felt so nonchalant and unconcerned about it. Even when I got up at 5:00 this morning to leave for the airport, it didn't quite hit me. Not until I was dragging suitcases through the Charlotte airport did I have a bit of nervous stomach-jitters. Ah! I'm going back to HAITI! I thought. What will this trip hold for me? But even that was as fleeting as thought.
It didn't fully hit me until I emerged from the front door of the airport in Port-Au-Prince and saw the smiling faces of the welcoming party who had come to greet me. And then it hit me: A wave of happiness, huge, ecstatic happiness to be here. When I smelled the distinctive smell of the air and saw the sights that just a few months ago seemed so foreign and strange, I knew I was glad to be here. I was glad, exultantly, jubilantly glad. I smiled all the way home on the tap-tap. I had a private little worship session by myself on that two-hour drive, and with a full heart, I just praised the Lord for letting me come back here. I felt like my face was glowing with an irrepressible smile, and it was all I could do to keep from bursting out in loud songs of praise.
I was sitting in the back of the tap-tap, talking to Jesus, and I had a bunch of very clear and vivid thoughts on many topics, but one of them in particular struck me in a way that demanded obedience and a change of heart.
You see, I have talked bad about Haiti. I've said good things, too, but often I have let myself exclaim in a shocked tone of voice over different negative aspects of Haiti, using words like "incompetence," "massive illness down there," "corruption," and "inefficiency."
What struck me was--that's not just Haiti. That's planet Earth.
Sin has polluted the human race, not just Haiti. Now, Haiti perhaps has some very obvious deficiencies in a number of key categories, but the other countries, the ones that look more "put together," also have glaring deficiencies that are surely just as egregious to God, only they happen to be in different categories, ones that we consider to be more "sanitary," and therefore, we more easily overlook them.
Then it struck me, hard: "What if Jesus talked about earth the way I have talked about Haiti?"
Can you imagine Jesus talking like this? Picture Him (if you can) getting together with a few the angels after he ascends up to heaven, and standing around with them in little knots, talking in low voices and saying, "You would not believe what a horrible place Earth is. You may have heard about it, but there's no way to understand it or imagine it until you've been there. Ugh! The corruption, the dishonesty, the back stabbing, the unbelievable incompetence at every level...it's just shocking. It's really shocking. People are ignorant. They don't know anything. And then the massive illness down there! It seemed like everybody was sick. The amount of time I had to spend just healing people was ridiculous."
I can't imagine Him talking like that. By extension, I ought not to talk like that. It's not Christlike.
So I want to apologize to as many as possible of the people who heard me talking in a negative way. I want Jesus to be the one in the future who informs the way I speak. I want to love as He loved.
How did Jesus act towards "this present evil world"? How did He approach this habitation of sin, treachery, murder, pain, and suffering?
He LOVED.
He loved the world, and he loved the people as individuals.
And so I make it my prayer: LORD, let me LOVE. Let me love as you love, with pure, strong, unquenchable, unconditional love. Let me love you, and love Haiti in general, and love Haitians an individuals.
I hope to post some back-dated articles about my trip home, so you might want to check for them later (scroll down on the home page of my blog, past this article, and they should show up between "Year in Review," which was my last post of 2012, and this post).
Ah, yes! So I'm in Haiti again.
All day yesterday, the eve of my departure, it didn't seem real that I was going--or at least, it didn't seem like I was going somewhere drastic and far away. I felt so nonchalant and unconcerned about it. Even when I got up at 5:00 this morning to leave for the airport, it didn't quite hit me. Not until I was dragging suitcases through the Charlotte airport did I have a bit of nervous stomach-jitters. Ah! I'm going back to HAITI! I thought. What will this trip hold for me? But even that was as fleeting as thought.
It didn't fully hit me until I emerged from the front door of the airport in Port-Au-Prince and saw the smiling faces of the welcoming party who had come to greet me. And then it hit me: A wave of happiness, huge, ecstatic happiness to be here. When I smelled the distinctive smell of the air and saw the sights that just a few months ago seemed so foreign and strange, I knew I was glad to be here. I was glad, exultantly, jubilantly glad. I smiled all the way home on the tap-tap. I had a private little worship session by myself on that two-hour drive, and with a full heart, I just praised the Lord for letting me come back here. I felt like my face was glowing with an irrepressible smile, and it was all I could do to keep from bursting out in loud songs of praise.
I was sitting in the back of the tap-tap, talking to Jesus, and I had a bunch of very clear and vivid thoughts on many topics, but one of them in particular struck me in a way that demanded obedience and a change of heart.
You see, I have talked bad about Haiti. I've said good things, too, but often I have let myself exclaim in a shocked tone of voice over different negative aspects of Haiti, using words like "incompetence," "massive illness down there," "corruption," and "inefficiency."
What struck me was--that's not just Haiti. That's planet Earth.
Sin has polluted the human race, not just Haiti. Now, Haiti perhaps has some very obvious deficiencies in a number of key categories, but the other countries, the ones that look more "put together," also have glaring deficiencies that are surely just as egregious to God, only they happen to be in different categories, ones that we consider to be more "sanitary," and therefore, we more easily overlook them.
Then it struck me, hard: "What if Jesus talked about earth the way I have talked about Haiti?"
Can you imagine Jesus talking like this? Picture Him (if you can) getting together with a few the angels after he ascends up to heaven, and standing around with them in little knots, talking in low voices and saying, "You would not believe what a horrible place Earth is. You may have heard about it, but there's no way to understand it or imagine it until you've been there. Ugh! The corruption, the dishonesty, the back stabbing, the unbelievable incompetence at every level...it's just shocking. It's really shocking. People are ignorant. They don't know anything. And then the massive illness down there! It seemed like everybody was sick. The amount of time I had to spend just healing people was ridiculous."
I can't imagine Him talking like that. By extension, I ought not to talk like that. It's not Christlike.
So I want to apologize to as many as possible of the people who heard me talking in a negative way. I want Jesus to be the one in the future who informs the way I speak. I want to love as He loved.
How did Jesus act towards "this present evil world"? How did He approach this habitation of sin, treachery, murder, pain, and suffering?
He LOVED.
He loved the world, and he loved the people as individuals.
And so I make it my prayer: LORD, let me LOVE. Let me love as you love, with pure, strong, unquenchable, unconditional love. Let me love you, and love Haiti in general, and love Haitians an individuals.
Monday, December 31, 2012
2012 Year In Review
Books I have read:
The Bible
The Power of Prayer and the Prayer of Power by R.A. Torrey
God’s Smuggler by Brother Andrew
The Practice of the Presence of God by Brother Lawrence
When God Writes your Love Story by Eric & Leslie Ludy
Bruchko by Bruce Olson
Bruchko and the Motilone Miracle by Bruce Olson
Crazy Love by Francis Chan
The Cost of Discipleship by Dietrich Bonhoffer
Recovering Biblical Manhood and Womanhood by John Piper, Wayne Grudem, et. al
The Bible
The Cross and the Switchblade by David Wilkerson
Run, Baby, Run by Nicky Cruz
Chasing the Dragon by Jackie Pullinger
The Character of the Lord's Worker by Watchman Nee
Why Revival Tarries by Leonard Ravenhill
C.T. Studd: Cricketer and Pioneer by Norman Grubb
God’s Pursuit of Man by A.W. Tozer
The Bravehearted Gospel by Eric Ludy
Wrestling Prayer by Eric Ludy
Rees Howells: Intercessor by Norman GrubbThe Power of Prayer and the Prayer of Power by R.A. Torrey
God’s Smuggler by Brother Andrew
The Practice of the Presence of God by Brother Lawrence
When God Writes your Love Story by Eric & Leslie Ludy
Bruchko by Bruce Olson
Bruchko and the Motilone Miracle by Bruce Olson
Crazy Love by Francis Chan
The Cost of Discipleship by Dietrich Bonhoffer
Recovering Biblical Manhood and Womanhood by John Piper, Wayne Grudem, et. al
Places I have been:
Spain
England
Haiti
Pennsylvania
Virginia
Tennessee
Colorado
Wisconsin
North Carolina
Highlights of 2012
- Working with Betel
- Visiting my dear friend Irina for the first time
- Touring the city of Oxford, eating at the Eagle and Child (pub where C.S. Lewis, J.R.R. Tolkien, and their friends used to meet), and seeing Blenheim Palace (birthplace of Winston Churchill)
- Attending my cousin Ben's wedding
- Attending my sister's graduation Summa Cum Laude with her associate's degree
- Going kayaking and jumping off the rope swing
- Attending my cousin Vanessa's graduation from veterinary school
- Going to visit Johnny and Megan and Jackson and seeing their house for the first time
- Hiking up Grandfather Mountain
- Visiting our local jail to do a women's Bible study
- Participating in our church's fun VBS program
- Selling my first car
- Attending Ellerslie's basic semester of discipleship training in Colorado
- Going water skiing and spraining my MCL in my knee
- Hiking up Pilot Mountain on crutches
- Celebrating my 30th birthday/going away party at the Nerren's
- Going to Haiti
- Coming home for Christmas
- Visiting Rosie and Mike in Wisconsin
- Delightful times with my siblings, playing games, laughing, and being best friends
Sunday, December 30, 2012
Good things
After a blog post with a title like "Cesspool," I figured that perhaps I was portraying a bit of a negative and/or cynical perspective on Haiti and my work there. So I wanted to follow it up with a blast of encouraging positivity. I want to make it clear that not everything I do in Haiti is like being in a cesspool, nor even half, nor even a fraction. It's mainly "out there" in "Haiti in general" that the dysfunction and icky-ness is rampant. But God is doing GOOD THINGS in our creche, in our lives, and in our ministry. And there are GOOD THINGS about Haiti in general, and Haitians in general, and Haitian culture. So I want to counterbalance the negative effect of the words in my previous post. Even though my conclusion in that post was to rejoice in God's power and soar forth in faith, I still feel like someone may go away from reading that post with a horror of ever going to Haiti and a dead-set determination to refuse to go anywhere like it (India, Uganda, etc.). I hope that is not the case. Here, then, is a view of the sunny side of Haitian life.
God is on the move
There is evidence on all sides that God is reaching down into Haiti to touch lives, redeem lost souls, and break the power of darkness. I expect 2013 to be the best year yet in Haiti. God has already begun to move. God has already begun to answer prayer. Without even any missionary involvement, God is beginning to reveal Himself to Haitian people, who are subsequently so transformed that their maturity in Christ far surpasses the maturity of many believers I know who have been in the church for years. Their wisdom and insight into the Scriptures far surpasses what you would expect in a new believer who is relatively untrained. They have an undaunted faith and boldness and eagerness to share with others. To talk with one of these people is to have hope, great hope, that God is raising up leaders, NOW, from within the ranks of regular Haitian citizens, who will be (and already are) a powerful influence for good on their communities.
Children who pray
Let me give you a glimpse into the first day that I prayed with my students. We begin and end every day with prayer, so I had heard them pray individually, but I was unprepared for anything like this. One day at the end of October, we had finished up all our school work for the day. Lunch was late, so after the lunch break was over, it left only about half an hour before dismissal. As the lunch break drew to a close, I asked the Lord, "What should I do with just half an hour?" My mind ran through possibilities of short lessons that I could introduce, or an easy craft project with construction paper, or something along those lines. But God said, "Have a prayer meeting." So I gathered them back, and when they were seated, I said, "Right now, before we dismiss, I would like to use the rest of our time remaining for some extra prayer." Instantly, a hush fell over the room, a focus, a gearing up for engaging in battle. I have taught Sunday School for years, and I am used to a silent groan when the mention of prayer comes up, but not here. I took prayer requests. Their prayer requests were insightful, reflecting real needs, and not the childish, foolish type that I had come to expect from long experience in Sunday School. ("Pray for my grandma." "Okay, is she sick?" "No, she died." "Oh, well how about if we pray for comfort for the family members. When did she die?" "When I was 2." "Oh.")
I asked Teacher James (the Haitian teacher) to lead them in prayer, and he began to pray. Instantly, the room was electric. Children started praying, crying out to God, regardless of who might be listening to them or what others might be thinking. They prayed fervently, almost shouting at times, confidently approaching God in mighty faith that He would hear and answer their prayers. For the rest of the half hour, the room was humming with simultaneous prayer rising up from about 15 different hearts. I myself was put to shame by my weak, feeble praying, and stimulated to step up my own prayers and regain the childlike faith that my students had.
It should come as no surprise that the presence of God came into that room. We weren't just reaching up for heaven in our prayers--God himself came down among us, His presence burning in every heart, enabling us in prayer, and strengthening our faith as we cried out to Him.
How did these children learn to pray? Who taught them? Where did they get such a transforming experience, where they discovered how to enter into the presence of God? They are ahead of us. What group of American children do you know of who can pray with this much power and faith? What a grand and glorious work God is doing.
Red Carpet Treatment
Of any possible situation that a missionary in Haiti can possibly have, I must say that mine has to be the best. God has basically rolled out the red carpet for me, blessed me beyond what anyone deserves, and treated me with the most amazing VIP treatment I could ask for. I live at Club Indigo, which is THE nicest resort in Haiti. I would never have dreamed of this or thought of being able to live in a place like this. Club Indigo is beautiful, safe, and relaxing. It has a wonderful buffet that is available for me to eat at any time if I need to supplement my diet with extra nutrition (vegetables and protein). We have stable, consistent electricity, running water, hot showers, and internet (which I have complained about being inconsistent in the past, but, it turns out, my own family's wifi at home is about as unpredictable). The windows of my room look out onto the Carribbean sea. Palm trees curve gracefully over the sand. The mountains are visible from just about everywhere, their rugged shapes inspiring the imagination with delightful prospects of exploring them one day.
Not only is my living situation basically like heaven compared to the rest of Haiti, my coworkers are like angels. God has put me in the best organization I have ever heard of. He has put me together with people who are full of faith, vision, and confident expectation that God's word is true and He will fulfill His word. We meet together daily to pray, and these are the best prayer meetings I have ever experienced. We encourage each other on and spur each other to greater faithfulness, love, and surrender.
Not only do I have a great living situation and amazing coworkers, but God has also provided financially. Without me asking people for money or making my needs known to anyone, God faithfully provides everything I need. I need money every month for my rent--and God provides it. I needed extra money for supplementary food--and God provided it. I needed money for a plane ticket to get home--and God provided it. He tells His servants when and how much to give, and they walk in obedience to Him, and I don't have to worry about it. All I have to worry about is being obedient myself, and God provides everything I need in order for me to walk in obedience.
Vibrant, exciting culture
Haitian culture makes me smile. There's just something about driving through town on a moto, the wind in your hair, passing women in the market with their baskets of produce, catching snatches of cheerful Haitian music that float through the air, seeing the vibrant colors, and hearing the Creole language spoken all around you. I feel Haiti creeping into my bones and pulling me in, causing me to feel like I am already, in some mysterious way, becoming Haitian. And when I feel that pull, I want to become Haitian. I want to understand the culture, be able to laugh at their jokes, and fit in (as much as a white person can expect to fit in). There's something exciting and alive about Haitian culture. It hasn't passed through the melting pot or been homogenized yet. It is very much its own thing. It has an exotic, heady flavor, like tasting a high-flavored curry when you've only ever tasted salt and pepper your whole life. The world with its media and peer pressure hasn't invaded Haiti so much yet. It feels insulated, like little jewels of pomegranate still hidden within the unopened rind. The world knows that Haiti is there, and it sees the outside of the pomegranate, but no one has quite opened up the pomegranate and discovered the surprising little bits of luscious sweetness inside. Haiti knows that the world is there, but the little pomegranate jewels haven't made it out of their shell to discover that there are also bananas and oranges and grapes and kiwis out there. I use these analogies, but Haitian culture is very difficult to put into words, like trying to explain the color green to a blind person. And I know that I myself don't even understand it yet. At ALL.
~ ~ ~
So there are a few categories of good things that are going on in Haiti. May God be glorified through His further work there!
God is on the move
There is evidence on all sides that God is reaching down into Haiti to touch lives, redeem lost souls, and break the power of darkness. I expect 2013 to be the best year yet in Haiti. God has already begun to move. God has already begun to answer prayer. Without even any missionary involvement, God is beginning to reveal Himself to Haitian people, who are subsequently so transformed that their maturity in Christ far surpasses the maturity of many believers I know who have been in the church for years. Their wisdom and insight into the Scriptures far surpasses what you would expect in a new believer who is relatively untrained. They have an undaunted faith and boldness and eagerness to share with others. To talk with one of these people is to have hope, great hope, that God is raising up leaders, NOW, from within the ranks of regular Haitian citizens, who will be (and already are) a powerful influence for good on their communities.
Children who pray
Let me give you a glimpse into the first day that I prayed with my students. We begin and end every day with prayer, so I had heard them pray individually, but I was unprepared for anything like this. One day at the end of October, we had finished up all our school work for the day. Lunch was late, so after the lunch break was over, it left only about half an hour before dismissal. As the lunch break drew to a close, I asked the Lord, "What should I do with just half an hour?" My mind ran through possibilities of short lessons that I could introduce, or an easy craft project with construction paper, or something along those lines. But God said, "Have a prayer meeting." So I gathered them back, and when they were seated, I said, "Right now, before we dismiss, I would like to use the rest of our time remaining for some extra prayer." Instantly, a hush fell over the room, a focus, a gearing up for engaging in battle. I have taught Sunday School for years, and I am used to a silent groan when the mention of prayer comes up, but not here. I took prayer requests. Their prayer requests were insightful, reflecting real needs, and not the childish, foolish type that I had come to expect from long experience in Sunday School. ("Pray for my grandma." "Okay, is she sick?" "No, she died." "Oh, well how about if we pray for comfort for the family members. When did she die?" "When I was 2." "Oh.")
I asked Teacher James (the Haitian teacher) to lead them in prayer, and he began to pray. Instantly, the room was electric. Children started praying, crying out to God, regardless of who might be listening to them or what others might be thinking. They prayed fervently, almost shouting at times, confidently approaching God in mighty faith that He would hear and answer their prayers. For the rest of the half hour, the room was humming with simultaneous prayer rising up from about 15 different hearts. I myself was put to shame by my weak, feeble praying, and stimulated to step up my own prayers and regain the childlike faith that my students had.
It should come as no surprise that the presence of God came into that room. We weren't just reaching up for heaven in our prayers--God himself came down among us, His presence burning in every heart, enabling us in prayer, and strengthening our faith as we cried out to Him.
How did these children learn to pray? Who taught them? Where did they get such a transforming experience, where they discovered how to enter into the presence of God? They are ahead of us. What group of American children do you know of who can pray with this much power and faith? What a grand and glorious work God is doing.
Red Carpet Treatment
Of any possible situation that a missionary in Haiti can possibly have, I must say that mine has to be the best. God has basically rolled out the red carpet for me, blessed me beyond what anyone deserves, and treated me with the most amazing VIP treatment I could ask for. I live at Club Indigo, which is THE nicest resort in Haiti. I would never have dreamed of this or thought of being able to live in a place like this. Club Indigo is beautiful, safe, and relaxing. It has a wonderful buffet that is available for me to eat at any time if I need to supplement my diet with extra nutrition (vegetables and protein). We have stable, consistent electricity, running water, hot showers, and internet (which I have complained about being inconsistent in the past, but, it turns out, my own family's wifi at home is about as unpredictable). The windows of my room look out onto the Carribbean sea. Palm trees curve gracefully over the sand. The mountains are visible from just about everywhere, their rugged shapes inspiring the imagination with delightful prospects of exploring them one day.
Not only is my living situation basically like heaven compared to the rest of Haiti, my coworkers are like angels. God has put me in the best organization I have ever heard of. He has put me together with people who are full of faith, vision, and confident expectation that God's word is true and He will fulfill His word. We meet together daily to pray, and these are the best prayer meetings I have ever experienced. We encourage each other on and spur each other to greater faithfulness, love, and surrender.
Not only do I have a great living situation and amazing coworkers, but God has also provided financially. Without me asking people for money or making my needs known to anyone, God faithfully provides everything I need. I need money every month for my rent--and God provides it. I needed extra money for supplementary food--and God provided it. I needed money for a plane ticket to get home--and God provided it. He tells His servants when and how much to give, and they walk in obedience to Him, and I don't have to worry about it. All I have to worry about is being obedient myself, and God provides everything I need in order for me to walk in obedience.
Vibrant, exciting culture
~ ~ ~
So there are a few categories of good things that are going on in Haiti. May God be glorified through His further work there!
Saturday, December 29, 2012
Cesspool
"I heard you were on your way out," a friend said to me when we happened to pass on the road.
"Out of this world, or out of this country?" I joked.
"Both, from the sound of it," he replied. "I heard you were on your deathbed."
"Oh, no, not my deathbed," I said. "I had a fever and got malaria, that's all."
He gave me a meaningful look. "Just be careful. When you jump into a cesspool, it doesn't get clean just because you're in there."
Cesspool, I thought. No offense to Haiti, but in some ways that's quite an apt description.
I thought about the massive dysfunction in just about every category. Massive illness. Massive corruption and fraud. Massive lawlessness and crime. Massive inefficiency. Massive destruction. Massive obstacles to progress and improvement.
Then I thought about jumping into a cesspool. Getting covered all over with the muck and the stench. Getting contaminated with everything. Being unable to escape it or wipe it off. In one sense, that's kind of how it felt to go to Haiti. I couldn't help getting sick. I was surrounded with constant danger. I had to work so hard to prevent good supplies from getting ruined. Uncleanness was all around me. I had to deal with bugs, heat, unsafe food and water, and frustrations of many kinds.
All this went through my mind in a flash, but without missing a beat, I replied with an exuberant smile.
"Good thing I've got somebody bigger than me going down there with me," I said, gesturing with my thumb towards the sky.
"Oh? Who's that?" he asked with surprise.
"God!" I exclaimed. "He's bigger than the cesspool. He's the one who's cleaning it up, not me!"
He nodded as he digested this perspective and went on down the road. I walked on with an extra lilt in my step and a little smile playing around the corner of my lips.
If I had to think of going down to Haiti by myself, it would be like jumping into a cesspool only to get covered with filth, smothered by the cloying oppressiveness, and deactivated by the sickness and harm that came against me. What a hopeless waste of my life. I might as well protect myself and stay here.
But I'm not going by myself. God looks down at the cesspool and says to Himself, "I want to clean that up." He looks around for a willing servant and says, "Will you trust me? I'm going to send you down there. You're going to get covered in filth. It's going to stink. But I have a great plan, and all you have to do is be obedient. I will protect you wherever you go. Nothing will be able to happen to you without my permission. You get to participate in this great, exciting work that I am doing. Will you go?"
I answer with an eager and instant, "YES!"
Because cesspool or no, malaria or no, I love being a part of what God is doing in Haiti.
In Haiti, I have experienced the highest heights of faith and the most intense surges of joy that I have ever known. I have the most interesting and fulfilling work I have ever done. I have the best coworkers a person could ask for. I am surrounded by a climate of faith and fervent love for God, a contagious willingness to be poured out on behalf of the weak and vulnerable. I wouldn't trade this for anything--not even being out of the cesspool. God--GOD is with me--the Living God--and that more than makes up for any bits of sticky muck that may stick to my clothes (or my liver, or my lungs, or whatever) because I went there.
Cesspool: 0 God: 1
"Out of this world, or out of this country?" I joked.
"Both, from the sound of it," he replied. "I heard you were on your deathbed."
"Oh, no, not my deathbed," I said. "I had a fever and got malaria, that's all."
He gave me a meaningful look. "Just be careful. When you jump into a cesspool, it doesn't get clean just because you're in there."
Cesspool, I thought. No offense to Haiti, but in some ways that's quite an apt description.
I thought about the massive dysfunction in just about every category. Massive illness. Massive corruption and fraud. Massive lawlessness and crime. Massive inefficiency. Massive destruction. Massive obstacles to progress and improvement.
Then I thought about jumping into a cesspool. Getting covered all over with the muck and the stench. Getting contaminated with everything. Being unable to escape it or wipe it off. In one sense, that's kind of how it felt to go to Haiti. I couldn't help getting sick. I was surrounded with constant danger. I had to work so hard to prevent good supplies from getting ruined. Uncleanness was all around me. I had to deal with bugs, heat, unsafe food and water, and frustrations of many kinds.
All this went through my mind in a flash, but without missing a beat, I replied with an exuberant smile.
"Good thing I've got somebody bigger than me going down there with me," I said, gesturing with my thumb towards the sky.
"Oh? Who's that?" he asked with surprise.
"God!" I exclaimed. "He's bigger than the cesspool. He's the one who's cleaning it up, not me!"
He nodded as he digested this perspective and went on down the road. I walked on with an extra lilt in my step and a little smile playing around the corner of my lips.
If I had to think of going down to Haiti by myself, it would be like jumping into a cesspool only to get covered with filth, smothered by the cloying oppressiveness, and deactivated by the sickness and harm that came against me. What a hopeless waste of my life. I might as well protect myself and stay here.
But I'm not going by myself. God looks down at the cesspool and says to Himself, "I want to clean that up." He looks around for a willing servant and says, "Will you trust me? I'm going to send you down there. You're going to get covered in filth. It's going to stink. But I have a great plan, and all you have to do is be obedient. I will protect you wherever you go. Nothing will be able to happen to you without my permission. You get to participate in this great, exciting work that I am doing. Will you go?"
 |
| Me at the creche in the last photo taken before I got sick |
I answer with an eager and instant, "YES!"
Because cesspool or no, malaria or no, I love being a part of what God is doing in Haiti.
In Haiti, I have experienced the highest heights of faith and the most intense surges of joy that I have ever known. I have the most interesting and fulfilling work I have ever done. I have the best coworkers a person could ask for. I am surrounded by a climate of faith and fervent love for God, a contagious willingness to be poured out on behalf of the weak and vulnerable. I wouldn't trade this for anything--not even being out of the cesspool. God--GOD is with me--the Living God--and that more than makes up for any bits of sticky muck that may stick to my clothes (or my liver, or my lungs, or whatever) because I went there.
Cesspool: 0 God: 1
Friday, December 28, 2012
Visit to Wisconsin
Over the Christmas weekend, we took a lovely little jaunt up to visit Rosie. Monica, Katherine, James and I made the 13-hour drive in Monica's car, which has like 209,000 miles on it, and it made the trip quite cheerfully, without any threats of a breakdown.
I read aloud The Hobbit to while away the time in the car. It's a good book for traveling, because during most of the story, the hobbit and the dwarves are on a long journey, usually on foot, taking months to get where they're going, and fraught with dangers at every turn, so it puts our happy, safe little trip into perspective. I read chapters 1-6 on the way up and chapters 7-19 on the way back home. Not sure how my voice held out for that, but it did.
It was so fun to see Rosie and Mike, see their new house for the first time, meet their doberman puppy Ava, and do all the things we have longed to do together. I hadn't seen Rosie since she got married a year and a half ago. Ah! It was so good to catch up, to go back and have that instant connection with her that I've always had, to talk, cook together, play games together, and sing together.
Different ones of us also went on walks, took Ava to the dog park, went skiing at the little bump, played pinochle, and went shopping.
One of the best parts of the trip was the Christmas party at the Walkers and then Christmas dinner on Christmas Eve. The Walker family is incomparable. They are so loving, warm, hospitable, and amazing.
After dinner, we all "went to bed." We lay down in the bedrooms, turned the lights out, and got quiet. Soon, what was our surprise when we heard a jolly "Ho-ho-ho!" and a loud ringing of sleigh bells! We all raced downstairs to the tree and found that Santa had left in such a hurry, he had forgotten his glove on the mantlepiece. The kids were absolutely delighted. They kept putting the glove on and taking it off, feeling the soft black leather and turning it over and over in their hands.
We took turns telling the Christmas story, each person adding a portion and then naming another person who would tell the next part. The kids listened and I enjoyed the personalized retelling of the story in each person's own words.
Then we opened gifts. We took turns, going youngest to oldest, with each person opening one gift at a time. I received an orange mug, some orange dark chocolate, an orange dress, and a beautiful silver bracelet. Score! Best Christmas gifts ever!
I read aloud The Hobbit to while away the time in the car. It's a good book for traveling, because during most of the story, the hobbit and the dwarves are on a long journey, usually on foot, taking months to get where they're going, and fraught with dangers at every turn, so it puts our happy, safe little trip into perspective. I read chapters 1-6 on the way up and chapters 7-19 on the way back home. Not sure how my voice held out for that, but it did.
It was so fun to see Rosie and Mike, see their new house for the first time, meet their doberman puppy Ava, and do all the things we have longed to do together. I hadn't seen Rosie since she got married a year and a half ago. Ah! It was so good to catch up, to go back and have that instant connection with her that I've always had, to talk, cook together, play games together, and sing together.
James dazzled us with his illustrious pool skills
We played lots of Seafarers scenarios of Settlers of Catan
We completed a 550-piece puzzle in record time.
And we snacked on yummy Wisconsin cheese. Mmmmm.
Making Chai tea!
Ava sports her Christmas present, a waterproof overcoat
One of the best parts of the trip was the Christmas party at the Walkers and then Christmas dinner on Christmas Eve. The Walker family is incomparable. They are so loving, warm, hospitable, and amazing.
This has got to be the happiest kitchen in America. Or on Planet Earth. Not exaggerating.
How's that for a Christmas Eve dinner place setting?
Such a privilege to spend my Christmas Eve with these people!
If you've been here, you know what a good time we all must have been having.
Almost ready to eat!
The lovely tree
After dinner, we all "went to bed." We lay down in the bedrooms, turned the lights out, and got quiet. Soon, what was our surprise when we heard a jolly "Ho-ho-ho!" and a loud ringing of sleigh bells! We all raced downstairs to the tree and found that Santa had left in such a hurry, he had forgotten his glove on the mantlepiece. The kids were absolutely delighted. They kept putting the glove on and taking it off, feeling the soft black leather and turning it over and over in their hands.
We took turns telling the Christmas story, each person adding a portion and then naming another person who would tell the next part. The kids listened and I enjoyed the personalized retelling of the story in each person's own words.
Then we opened gifts. We took turns, going youngest to oldest, with each person opening one gift at a time. I received an orange mug, some orange dark chocolate, an orange dress, and a beautiful silver bracelet. Score! Best Christmas gifts ever!
Tuesday, December 25, 2012
White Christmas
I never would have guessed that I would get a white Christmas this year! I was planning to discover what it was like to have Christmas on the beach. But there I was, up in white Wisconsin, and on Christmas day we took a walk to enjoy the snowy scenes.
Gas and tolls to drive to WI: $100. All four sisters together on Christmas day: Priceless.
Katherine photographing James playing with Ava, Rosie's new doberman. Fun fun!
Friday, December 21, 2012
Gingerbread house party
Christmas would not be complete without my sister Monica's annual gingerbread house decorating party. She works for days, baking the pieces for the frame of the house and painstakingly building the houses by sticking the gingerbread walls together with an egg-white glue. Then she lets her guests have the fun part: decorating the houses!
I love sitting around a table with Christmas music playing, talking and laughing with a bunch of other girls, sticking bits of candy all over my gingerbread house (and popping the occasional piece into my mouth), and watching how each person's creativity comes out in the many styles of decoration. We've been doing this for years, and every year, we still have creative new ideas that no one has ever thought of before.
Some of the finished products...
At the end, everyone gets a gingerbread house to take home or to give away as a Christmas gift. When we were kids, we would then begin to eat the gingerbread house, since everything is edible. Little by little, the candy would be picked off and devoured, then the cookie pieces, usually starting with the chimney, the shutters, and the door, until in a few days, there would be nothing left. Now we usually just enjoy having the house to look at, and we forego the candy.
One week ago, lying on my bed in Haiti, sick with malaria, how little I expected to get to do gingerbread houses this year! Thank you, God, for this unexpected and delightful surprise! And thank you, Monica, for all the hard work that allows your friends and sisters to have so much pleasure decorating these houses! Love you!
I love sitting around a table with Christmas music playing, talking and laughing with a bunch of other girls, sticking bits of candy all over my gingerbread house (and popping the occasional piece into my mouth), and watching how each person's creativity comes out in the many styles of decoration. We've been doing this for years, and every year, we still have creative new ideas that no one has ever thought of before.
Some of the finished products...
 |
| My house |
 |
| The side of my house (I couldn't have a house without at least one orange wall, now could I?) |
At the end, everyone gets a gingerbread house to take home or to give away as a Christmas gift. When we were kids, we would then begin to eat the gingerbread house, since everything is edible. Little by little, the candy would be picked off and devoured, then the cookie pieces, usually starting with the chimney, the shutters, and the door, until in a few days, there would be nothing left. Now we usually just enjoy having the house to look at, and we forego the candy.
One week ago, lying on my bed in Haiti, sick with malaria, how little I expected to get to do gingerbread houses this year! Thank you, God, for this unexpected and delightful surprise! And thank you, Monica, for all the hard work that allows your friends and sisters to have so much pleasure decorating these houses! Love you!
Wednesday, December 19, 2012
Green smoothie
There's nothing like pure raw nutrition to make you feel better when you've been sick!
And there's nothing that beats your mom's home-grown cocktail of freshly-picked greens to throw into a green smoothie.
You may ask how in the world she has these things growing in the garden in December. I do not know the answer to that. I was as surprised as I could be to see this beautiful selection of fresh, organic produce come in from the back yard.
And this was the most delicious glass of pure nutrition ever! Ah! Thank God for people who pamper me with their tender caring helpfulness when I'm sick.
(You may also ask how in the world my mom's green smoothie made it to Haiti. Actually I have come home. I'll visit my family for Christmas and go back in January.)
And there's nothing that beats your mom's home-grown cocktail of freshly-picked greens to throw into a green smoothie.
You may ask how in the world she has these things growing in the garden in December. I do not know the answer to that. I was as surprised as I could be to see this beautiful selection of fresh, organic produce come in from the back yard.
And this was the most delicious glass of pure nutrition ever! Ah! Thank God for people who pamper me with their tender caring helpfulness when I'm sick.
(You may also ask how in the world my mom's green smoothie made it to Haiti. Actually I have come home. I'll visit my family for Christmas and go back in January.)
Tuesday, December 18, 2012
Reverse Culture Shock: Dazzled by a Banana
I got in the car with my dear mother and sister who drove the three hours to pick me up at the airport. It felt so good to be with them again, to be able to relax in the back seat and close my eyes and not wonder if we would have a head-on collision with a bus while trying to pass a tap-tap.
They asked me questions about my trip and I started telling my stories. "Look at all the lights," I was thinking to myself. "Just think of all this electricity! Wow. Everyone has power, and the power doesn't go out."
I decided it would be best to warn them that I would be experiencing reverse culture shock. I had been trained about this in my debrief with WEC after my experience in Betel. But in all my travels, I had never experienced culture shock so powerfully as I did in Haiti, and I expected that reversing the process would be equally drastic.
"Just to warn you," I started in, "I might be in for some heavy-duty reverse culture shock."
"What do you mean?" Mom asked.
"Well, you know, being an emotional basket case, and having to get used to the way things are here, and stuff like that," I said.
"Do you want a banana?" Monica interrupted.
"Sure," I said. I took the banana.
"So don't be surprised," I continued, "if I'm always saying stuff like, 'Whoa, look at all the lights,' or 'Whoa, niiiiice houses,' or--"
I started opening my banana as I was talking.
"Whoa! Look at this BANANA!" I interrupted myself. "Oh my goodness! It's so large! And yellow! And perfect! And there are no ants on it! Whoa! This is the nicest banana I've ever seen!"
The irony was lost on me until Mom and Monica said, "Are you serious, or is that just another example?"
"Oh! No, I'm serious!" I said. "Look at this thing!" I giggled with delight as I bit into its pure lusciousness. Yum, yum, yum, yum. Bliss, all the way down to the bottom.
They asked me questions about my trip and I started telling my stories. "Look at all the lights," I was thinking to myself. "Just think of all this electricity! Wow. Everyone has power, and the power doesn't go out."
I decided it would be best to warn them that I would be experiencing reverse culture shock. I had been trained about this in my debrief with WEC after my experience in Betel. But in all my travels, I had never experienced culture shock so powerfully as I did in Haiti, and I expected that reversing the process would be equally drastic.
"Just to warn you," I started in, "I might be in for some heavy-duty reverse culture shock."
"What do you mean?" Mom asked.
"Well, you know, being an emotional basket case, and having to get used to the way things are here, and stuff like that," I said.
"Do you want a banana?" Monica interrupted.
"Sure," I said. I took the banana.
"So don't be surprised," I continued, "if I'm always saying stuff like, 'Whoa, look at all the lights,' or 'Whoa, niiiiice houses,' or--"
I started opening my banana as I was talking.
"Whoa! Look at this BANANA!" I interrupted myself. "Oh my goodness! It's so large! And yellow! And perfect! And there are no ants on it! Whoa! This is the nicest banana I've ever seen!"
The irony was lost on me until Mom and Monica said, "Are you serious, or is that just another example?"
"Oh! No, I'm serious!" I said. "Look at this thing!" I giggled with delight as I bit into its pure lusciousness. Yum, yum, yum, yum. Bliss, all the way down to the bottom.
Monday, December 17, 2012
Stuff you can't buy in Haiti
Some of this may be available in Port-au-Prince and I just don't know it, but we never get a chance to go that far away to do our shopping. If you're a traveler or missionary who is going to be out in the rest of Haiti, shopping in smaller cities (we shop in Saint-Marc), you might want to bring these along with you so you'll have them when you need them.
Barleygreen or similar powdered nutritional drink
Bug spray
Calendar
Calligraphy pens
Cardamom pods
Can opener
Canning jars
Chili powder
Clipboard
Duct tape
Green tea
Instant oatmeal (but regular oatmeal is available)
Knife (good, all-purpose, kitchen use)
Latex gloves
Laundry basket/bag
Mosquito nets
Pencil sharpener
Pepper spray
Scissors (heavy-duty, all-purpose)
Sharpie markers
Straight pins (like for sewing)
Travel coffee mug (with a lid, unbreakable)
Vegetable peeler
Washcloths
Wooden spoons
Yarn
Yeast (for bread baking)
Barleygreen or similar powdered nutritional drink
| When you're eating nothing but carbs and starch, you need something to keep you healthy. |
Bug spray
 |
| When you're repelling malaria mosquitoes, you want the best protection you can get. |
Calendar
Calligraphy pens
Cardamom pods
Can opener
 |
| Wide-mouth quart jars are great for storing things away from bugs and for making your own homemade versions of foods you can't buy (like pickle relish) |
Chili powder
 |
| The rest of the ingredients for chili are available locally |
Clipboard
Duct tape
 |
| If green tea is your thing, you might have to ration what you brought with you to last your entire time. |
Knife (good, all-purpose, kitchen use)
 |
| Also consider a knife sharpener. |
Latex gloves
Laundry basket/bag
Mosquito nets
 |
| After getting Malaria, I can't overemphasize this enough! |
Pencil sharpener
Pepper spray
Scissors (heavy-duty, all-purpose)
Sharpie markers
Straight pins (like for sewing)
Travel coffee mug (with a lid, unbreakable)
Vegetable peeler
Washcloths
Wooden spoons
Yarn
Yeast (for bread baking)
Sunday, December 16, 2012
Not eating makes me think about food.
Chinese food
Some good sweet'n'sour chicken. Or sesame chicken. I think I'd go for the sesame chicken.
How about some garlicky beef and broccoli. Mmmmmm.
Christmas food
Like eggnog.
And Mincemeat pie.
Junk food
Like Pringles.
And especially, a Culver's Butter Burger.
Comfort Food
Like Granno's apple pie.
Or a cheese ball.
Can't find a proper picture of either one of these, but it's just as well, because Granno's apple pie is unlike any apple pie on google images, and the cheese ball ("Party cheese ball"--YUM!) is so epic, it would be overwhelming to see a good picture of it. Especially with the right crackers. Ah!
Mexican Food
For instance, an incredibly huge, juicy, beefy burrito.
Or a drippy, cheesy, melty, chicken quesadilla.
[Oooooh.... This has nothing to do with Mexican food, but I just got sidetracked at a lovely new place, a blog called Cooking for Seven. Oh such beautiful creations of food. Tantalizing! I'll be visiting there again frequently. Pear, dark chocolate, and muenster panini??? Twist my arm! Dirty Chai pancakes with Spiced Caramel Sauce??? Sign me up!]
Homemade Food
My family's homemade pizza.
'Nuff said.
Oh boy. This is getting dangerous. And that's without mentioning...
- melt-in-your-mouth frozen custard
- Mrs. Sadler's chicken pot pie
- reuben sandwiches
- biscuits and gravy
- liver and onions
- moroccan tajine
- chili and cornbread
- split pea soup
- bacon
- hummus and pita
- cranberry sauce
- hot apple cider
- milk and cookies
I think it's time to stop. I can tell I've been in Haiti for quite a while now. When you're in Haiti, you don't get to eat like this. So it's not just that I haven't been eating for a week, it's that I haven't had any of the above for 3 months, and there's no chance in the near future to have them, either.
(Note to my friends and family: When I come home, if you serve me spaghetti, rice, beans, and/or cornmeal, I will eat it with a cheerful attitude, but it will not be a long-desired special treat! Take the foods mentioned in this post under consideration instead.)
(Another note to my friends and family: If I come home early due to this hepatitis, and I can't eat all this heavy, rich, decadent food because of a special diet, and you serve any of the items pictured here, it will be worse torture than looking at the pictures. Just sayin'.)
------------------------------
Now I'm going to switch gears entirely and take this otherwise-pointless point in a redemptive direction. Let me point to Jesus.
I'm fairly sure that the pictures and food suggestions above resonated with my readers and caused you, too, to feel hungry and appetized for one or more of the choices I listed. But here's the question: would you or I be that interested if we replaced all the foods with Scriptures?
Jesus said, "Man shall not live by bread alone, but by every word that proceedeth out of the mouth of God."(Matthew 4:4).
I ask myself honestly, "How seriously do I take that?"
Jesus said, " I am the bread of life: he that cometh to me shall never hunger; and he that believeth on me shall never thirst." (John 6:35)
I have to evaluate my own heart: How far is that true for me?
I hunted all these yummy food pictures gloatingly, with a sweet glee bubbling up from within me, relishing just the look of food, without even smelling, touching, or tasting it. Do I delight that tangibly in feasting on the Word?
Do we just pay lip service to that, or is it a defining reality of our lives?
The Psalmist could say, "How sweet are thy words unto my taste! yea, sweeter than honey to my mouth!" (Psalm 119:103)
What will it take for us to truly treasure the Word of God in this way?
What if we were so hungry for Scripture after a week-long fast from it that we just couldn't resist doing a blog post with all our favorite verses that we hadn't read for a long time?
What if it didn't matter to us what we ate or when or how often, just so long as we got to have our dose of Scripture for the day?
What if searching the Word was more delightful to us than the most delightful eating experience we've ever had? I can think of some really good tiramisu I had once. I still remember how great a pleasure it gave me to eat every.single.bite. I think of Kopp's Midnight Chocolate Cake ice cream, of savory cheeses, of garlicky doner kebab meat, of a bowl full of cherries, and of many other things that are so absolutely delicious that the pleasure just never goes away.
| Doner Kebab, straight from a website in Turkey. The real deal. (Did they intentionally make it to look sort of like a smiley face?) |
Am I not blind and deaf and utterly confused if I do not treasure the Word of God more than these temporal pleasures of food? The eyes of faith look beyond the power of the senses to discern the clear and true and living realities. It is TRUE, deafeningly true, resoundingly true, that the Word of God is objectively far greater and sweeter and more nourishing and life-giving and pleasure-giving than all the best food the world has ever known.
We are fools not to bring our lives into conformity with this reality. We are missing out on exquisite beauty, pure satisfaction, and endless pleasure by staying outside of the place where we feast on the Word.
I pity the poor Haitian people who have never tasted even one of the foods I've listed here. Most of the people in Haiti probably have literally never tasted or conceived of even one of the foods in this post (with the exception of bread. They've probably tasted that). Aside from the fact that they're not even guaranteed to eat at all on any given day, they have a vocabulary of like 4 food options. Spaghetti. Rice. Cornmeal. Wheat mush. Ah! They don't know what they're missing out on! But NEITHER DO WE who leave the Bible to gather dust on the shelf, or take it out for our obligatory five minute devotion time, and never discover the true riches and joy-filled LIFE that God offers us.
The Haitian who has never eaten a nutritious, balanced diet is to be pitied, but only insofar as the natural world goes. Pity the person far more who has never eaten the nutritious, balanced diet of the Word of God, which brings life to the spirit and awakens the soul to union and fellowship with God. The one is malnourished for this life only, but the other is malnourished for this life and the next.
Why is the Word of God so precious? Why is it so good? What is so great about it, after all? Isn't it just a bunch of spiritual-sounding hype to place God's word so far above our greatest earthly pleasures?
No.
No.
Because the Word of God---IS JESUS.
And if you don't know that Jesus is precious and good, far above the greatest earthly pleasure, then I doubt you have ever encountered Him at all. But that's a conversation for another day.
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