Almost There

Last week I told you about all the exams we were dealing with. Well, we're still in that stage. And now I have to edit, print, stamp and copy three more tests with one broken printer and no paper by tomorrow!

No worries, though. We have a back-up printer and we're making a trip to town tomorrow to get the paper. Very solvable problems. We deal with lots of these kinds of things in Haiti. So goes life.

Tomorrow is also my last day here before my Stateside visit. I have nearly finished all of my goal projects. I spent most of my day today making admission badges for our women's conference in January. It's great to get those things done ahead of time and they look really great. Everything I have left to do is quite minor, Thank God.

I hope I'll get to see most of you while I'm around. It really is a privilege to have you on my team.

Much love. See you in America.

C

Exams, exams, and more exams!

We've been typing exams for a week now. Last year I cried more than once because this time is so stressful. But, as with everything else this year, there is a team within which we can distribute the work.

We took a bit of a break today, though, and swam in the ocean for several hours, catching starfish for a UN group of Jordanian SWAT team members. No, I'm not kidding.

But now I'm back to trying to cross some things of the list. I'm having a hard time finding any motivation today. I must have lost it last night when I stayed up until midnight typing exams. I tend to lose quite a few things in that context.

I'm headed back to the States in a bit more than a week. I'll miss the ocean, warmth and work while I'm gone. I haven't seen or felt winter for awhile, though, either. So I'll take the good with the not-as-good.

Hopefully we'll get everything done that we need to get done before the end of next week. I'll let you know.

Much love.

Another Saturday in Haiti

For today's post, I thought I'd give you an account of normal Saturday activities. I think that the best way to do so is to give you my to-do list for the day. This is what is written on it for today:

1) Sort clothes. (Sometimes they pile up if they aren't ironed. I just toss them in a pile.) Check.

2) Organize grocery store. (Our grocery store consists of three suitcases under my bed. Aisle one is food products. Aisle two is non-food products. And aisle three is bulk food products.) Check.

3) Sweep under beds. (There is a lot of dust and dirt in Haiti that accumulates. We need to do this often.) Check.

4) Clean corners. (Another habit of mine is to lose control of the odds and ends that build up. In America, you have junk drawers. In Haiti, we have corners.) Check.

5) Send 2nd e-mails. (This is a must for communicating with people Stateside. I have to stay disciplined about this or things could go wrong.) Check.

6) Update blog again. (Another communication must. I wanted to make up for the huge intermission between my last few entries.) In Process.

7) Attempt to measure boys. (Sounds odd, I know. I need to measure them for dress pants and shirts. I want to bring them new sets of nice clothes to wear to church. The hard part is that because I don't have measuring tape I have to measure them with a child's toy measuring tape that only extends to 24 inches. No check yet.

8) Clean bureau. (Bureau is the creole word for office. I have to organize that as well because it gets a little out of hand by the end of each week.) No check yet.

9) Scrub down bathroom. (This one is self-explanatory. The only Haitian hiccup was that I only had a 4 oz bottle of Lysol to scrub the whole bathroom down. I successfully stretched it out. Check.

10) Make Bed. (I put this one on there just so I had one to cross off right away. Made me feel better.) Check twice.

11) Clean on and under table. (Had to add this one because it was full of crumbs and dust. I couldn't have a clean room with a dirty table.) Check.

12) Start organizing file cabinet. (Got ambitious. Probably won't conquer that today. p.s. I keep this cabinet-with all the mission's files- behind my door.) No check....yet.

13) Clean safe. (Our "bank" is kept under my table. It need a once-over as well.) Check.

14) Cobwebs. (I feel so much better without those little webs all over my ceiling.) Check.

So, now I have to go back to work. Must complete the to-do list!

Happy birthday, Misty and Grandma!

Baptist Revival- Haitian Style

The local baptist church held a revival that was led by our Berea staff last night.

Usually I don't like to go to these things because I'm not a huge fan of "revivals," but this one turned out to be pretty fun.

The first thing I noticed as I sat down was the wall on the other side of the building which was lined with the school's chalkboards. Like our, and most, churches which also run schools, the same building is used for either purpose interchangeably. Only today was this a somewhat uncomfortable issue.

It wasn't that the boards were taking up too much space. The problem was that yesterday's lesson, immediately previous to the service, was one on STD's. That's right- not only did we get a great Biblical lesson from a sound preacher, but we also had wonderful reading material on the causes, symptoms and treatments of AIDS, gonorrhea and syphilis. What a well-rounded service!

The service was loads of fun. We danced to awesome music and listened to a few solos. Then we danced some more. Haitians love when white people dance. They always assume that we lack rhythm. But boy did we teach them a lesson! I cut the concrete, raised the roof, and shook my booty like no one has ever dared to do in any baptist church.

Needless to say, Haitian church services are much more fun than any I've been to in America. Nothing intimidates these people. They sing solo even though they're not the best at it. They dance in the aisles even if everyone else is in their seats. They clap whether they're supposed to or not.

I like it. A lot.

You should come enjoy a Haitian church service sometime. I promise you won't be disappointed. Whether it's by STD lessons, naked children or a contagious beat, you are sure to be surprised at one point or another.

Much love.

God of Details

I will wait for my next entry to tell you about our visit to our school/church in the mountian village called Counol. I was going to recount it for you now, but something has taken place which is important enough to jump to first priority.

Over a series of e-mails a whole plot was unfolded which none of us expected to start our day with. It starts all the way back between 1990-96.

One of our supporters, Lola Mitchell, partnered with Dee and Wilckly in the 90's and sponsored a child named Marie Ange in their children's home.

I met Lola in the week before I came back to Haiti in September, having made a visit to New Lenox, IL to meet with her and some members of her church.

Lola heard that some youth from her church will be preparing food at the National Missionary Convention for distribution to various Haitian ministries and wanted to make sure that we were one of the recepients.

She e-mailed Shelby Baxter, a volunteer at the ministry that, among other things, distributes the food once it arrives in Haiti.

Shelby passed our information along to one Gretchen DeVoe, who is in charge of the distribution.

Gretchen replied postively stating that she is already aquainted with Dee and Wilckly from years passed. Want to know how she is aquainted with them?

It turns out that Marie Ange (Lola's sponsor child) and several other kids whom Dee and Wilckly raised are from the same area as Gretchen's ministry. Marie Ange works for her now!

So the circle is complete. One child raised by dedicated parents was sponsored by a Stateside partner and grew into a capable young woman who now works for another Christ-centered mission. And the connections between all of us will come to fruition in the form of hungry children getting food in their stomachs!

Now, it is not official that we will recieve this food, which will feed hundreds of hungry children in our schools, but I do not serve a God who teases.

I am confident of the positive result that will come of this intricate web of God's divine- and somewhat humerous- plan.

Wow. This job is so much fun!

Much love,
C

Donkey Days

A recent invitation to a mountain village caused us quite a bit more turmoil than we could have expected.

One Pastor Julmis works for us and has been for about six months now. He used to pastor a church in the mountains before he came here looking for work to support his family and growing children. He's been asking us to go see his church since the day he started working for us.

Well, the time had come. Last Monday Wilckly decided to take a day and go see what Julmis had been up to on his mountain. Poor Wilckly had no idea what he was getting himself, and us, into.

Here's how the day went in a nutshell:

4 am- wake up, load truck, get everyone ready
5 am- departure to a mountain I've never been to before
7 am- arrival at second leg of our journey. End truck ride, begin trek atop a donkey.
9 am- thought I would die a death by donkey
10 am- was sure I would die a death by donkey
11 am- wanted to die a death by donkey, simply to end the agony
11:30 am- arrival at the mountain village
2 pm- departure from the village
4 pm- numbness kicked in
5:30 pm- clouds hid the sunlight (darkness on a donkey)
6 pm- rain began to pour
7 pm- arrived at the truck in the yet pouring rain
8:30 pm- arrived home after driving the last leg of the journey in the back of the truck in the worst rain we've had in weeks, freezing my backside- and all my other sides- off.

Those donkeys had no compassion on us whatsoever. Neither did the terrain. I rode that donkey for as long as I could, all the while being told by our Haitian guides that, "We're almost there. We're almost there."

We were never almost there.

I finally told them to stop, that I couldn't take it anymore, and that I was walking from that point on. Half an hour later thay let me get off. It was one of the most frustrating exchanges I have had in a long while.

It took four hours one way. So eight hours of travel in order to spend three hours in a pleasant little village on none other the Haiti's Terrib Montan. (Terrible Mountain) No, I didn't make that up- that is the name of the mountian we climbed on donkeys. And I'm sure the name of my donkey was Terrib Bouwik (Terrible Donkey). I have no doubt about that.

The visit was splendid, though. Wonderful people greeted us. And they worked hard to get us there safely. One thing that stood out for me was the way the parents there treated their children. They played with them and made them smile and bounced them on their knees and joked with them. And I saw children clinging to their parents' legs for protection, both mothers and fathers. That is not common in Haiti. Not at all.

It was an adventure, for sure- one that I won't soon forget, although my back would love to forget it right now and for all time. It was hard on our bodies, but good for our spirits.

All my love,
C

Quotable Kelsey

Many of you know who Kelsey is- Dee and Wilckly's middle child. She's four years old and at that learning stage when every fact demands a question, every question demands an answer and every answer demands an explanation followed by another question.

The questions are unending, which naturally becomes a bother after too long. But there are those gold-nugget questions that entertain us enough to make up for all the rest. Such as...

On our second day here in Haiti, we had our first official meeting to attempt to organize our thoughts, needs, goals and priorities. As Dee, Wilckly, Shaina and I sat down under the light of our brightest generator-powered light bulb, Kelsey turned to her dad and said, "Daddy, why are you having this meeting?"

His answer was billiant: "So you can exist."

It seems as though Kelsey's quotability comes from her dad's side of the family.

It's true, though. Without those meetings we are totally at a loss. We can't even eat without having a meeting to find out where the food will come from, who will cook it, where it will be cooked, when it will be cooked and what supplies are needed to cook it. It sounds complicated, but it's also necessary.

That's what life is like here. We are team in every way, and we have to be. If we weren't on the same page you would come here to find four people working harder than anyone else in the world who also happen to be getting absolutely nothing done. Granted, it's difficult to get the four of us to sit down at the same time, but we make it work.

Of course, we can't seem to have many of those sit-downs without our resident entertainer. And Kelsey tends to declare her curiosity with questions on every issue-

"Why are you giving them food?"
"Why did their house fall?"
"Why do they need a job?"
"Why is Daddy talking to that man for all day?"
"Why do mosquitoes reproduce?"

That last one was the result of one of my rants about my hatred for mosquitoes. I'm still getting the hang of having a four-year-old around. It's taking longer than it should.

In any case, we're all learning a lot about what it takes to work as a team and answer all of Kelsey's questions simultaneously. And let's be honest, when she expresses one her cute little four-year-old bits of wisdom, we can't help but melt.

I mean, what would you do if a four-year-old walked out toward the beach and upon reaching the water looked up at you and said, "This ocean is too big"?

A Few of the Differences

Between this year and last, there are numerous contrasts:

This year, I take UNINTERRUPTED naps.

Last year I was an okay nurse, a poor veterinarian, an unsuccessful farmer, an inconsistent mother, a self-taught stick-shift driver, a rookie boss, a rat's worst nightmare, a frustrated school director, a mosquito's daily bread, a poor excuse for a relief worker, an almost teacher, a bad electrician, a promising mechanic and a missionary without her sanity.

This year I'm a normal administrator.

Last year I missed people so bad it hurt.

This year I have friends who live here AND speak English.

Last year I thought everyone hated me.

This year I'm planting trees with the prime minister.

Who's having a good time now?

That would be ME.

Time passes...or does it?

I feel like I've been here for months already. We've been in full swing since the moment we landed. Already today I've been typing contracts in French, writing up payroll reports, having endless conversations with Haitian after Haitian with all the frustrations we can take in between.

Dee and Wilckly bear the brunt of it. I remember last year having to halt whatever administrative (and necessary) work I was doing so that I could talk to visitors for hours and hours. Most of the Dorce's work is done sitting in the same chair all day dealing with the dozens of people gathering at our door. It's much harder than what 'm doing now.

Every once in a while I'll have to stop and participate in the visits. I have to greet all the people that come through our doors because most of them just come to tell us hello and that they missed us when we were gone. It's actually pretty sweet. But, of course, they come hungry and in need of something. That's where the work comes in.

One of the greetings I really looked forward to when I got here was the one from Melissa. That sweet little girl was so bashful when I first saw her last Sunday. She wouldn't look at me at first, but I could tell she was holding back a smile. Then she grabbed my hand when I wasn't looking. Eventually she fell asleep in my lap. Just the way I like it.

It's difficult here, but it's nice to be back in a place where the things that should matter, do.

Back In Haiti

What's great is that I'm back in a pace that I enjoy: easy, relatively slow, but oddly productive. In America I was going a mile a minute but I never felt like I was getting anything done. This feeling is much better. I've only been here for a couple of days and I've already alphabetized some lists, made a few lists from sratch, picked up a load of food, bought a phone (takes more work here than there), and completed a few other fine tasks.

There was a lot more familiarity coming back here than I have ever experienced coming to a foreign country. It makes sense having been here for so long and doing all the things I did before, but still I was just surprised at what didn't surprise me.

Coming back to familiarity didn't soften the blow of returning to the normal Haitian scene, which just happens to be poverty and devestation beyond what most peope ever see, much less understand. The first pictures I saw were of the headless body of a 3-year-old boy that was killed in the recent flooding right here in Carries, not more than five minutes from where I sit.

Now we do damage control. The shipment of food we just picked up will be gone momentarily. Among other tasks, we have to find more.

We're stressed, but not worrisome. This is not a job for the worrisome, it's a job for the faithful.

And so we continue.

Late nights

Having been slowly weaned out of falling asleep with the sun, I am experiencing on of my first really late nights. It feels good to work while everyone sleeps. This tends to be the only time I feel truly productive- when I know I won't be interrupted by a phone call or a house full of busybodies.

The last month has been more difficult than I expected, less productive than I expected, and altogether much slower than I expected. I feel like I'm just now able to live out a normal day of work and rest and conversation without being overwhelmed with fatigue or unexplained tension. At first, I thought it was just tightened nerves. But as time has passed I've noticed that it's simply because of what I know now.

It's hard for me to live here, to drink coffee and watch a tv show and drive to the park and eat a turkey sandwich when I know the turmoil that's out there. I have seen and experienced some of the harshest living conditions in humanity. I've known the truest of hard days. I've seen the filth of neglected children and the struggle that families go through to make it to another day.

But now I'm back to the sweet life. Structure everywhere. Enforced laws. Electricity freely flowing. Water from a faucet. Kids with sneakers on. Carpeted floors. English-speakers all over the place. And after a whole month I'm still not quite sure what to do with myself. I've never known this type of re-acclimation. I have to get used to my own country again.

It's happening, only much slower than thought.

I wonder...

if it's normal to crave salt.

if I've just gotten up from a magnificently intense dream.

why I wake up thinking that I'm still in Haiti.

whose life Dee saved today.

how I survived the last year.

if it's okay to buy cookie dough by the pound.

what the kids are doing.

how I was ever satisfied with an indifferent lifestyle.

what time it is.

why I'm not asleep.

who I might meet next.

why I seem to be the purest gravitational force of blessings beyond my wildest dreams.

how may people wore this t-shirt before I did.

how much it costs to see a movie these days.

what will happen next.

My American Firsts

I wanted to put together a little compilation of the first things I got to experience after returning to the States after a nine-month absence. Some are fun, some are awesome and the rest are simply spectacular. Enjoy.

First Meal: Turkey sandwich and coffee at Starbucks.

First Beverage: Apple Juice.

First Person I met for the First Time: My 4-month-old niece, Elliot (Woohoo!)

First Hugs: 1 of my brothers, both of my sisters and Misty.

First Drive on a Road with Lines on it: St. Louis to Quincy, just like the good ole days.

First Night's Sleep: On a cot in Elliot's room. Comfy and COLD!

First article of clothing I had to procure: Jacket. Brrrrr.

First Person I Surprised: Lindi, followed by Kelsey. Kelsey's reaction was awesome!

First time I Drove ALONE: To church on Sunday morning, 6 hrs after I got off the plane.

First Walk ALONE: Sunday afternoon in the rain. Perfect.

First Book I started Reading: "Shakespeare's Four Great Comedies". I recommend it.

First Dessert: Cheesecake on Monday. Wonderful.

First Nap: A couple days after getting here, home alone in a recliner. Doesn't get any better than that.

First "Duh!" experience: The second night, I watched a movie on my laptop because I forgot there was a tv. Near the end, the computer's battery died and I put it away, not realizing that I could just plug it in and finish the movie. Electricity . . . who knew?

Those are the good ones. All the little things may seem unimportant, but it's a comfort thing. Familiarity is nice to experience. My days are still pretty random, but in a way that's very normal and mostly unstraining- pretty much the opposite of the last nine months in Haiti.

The negative is that Dee and I are seperated again, so we're back to trying to work together while we're a couple thousand miles apart.

I'm working hard at filling my schedule now. It's working out pretty well so far. I'm making new contacts and nourishing others. It's been quite refreshing so far.

Much love and more soon,
C

Story Time 2nd Edition

After the fated mango harvest of a single tree, Crash didn't give the donated shot of Promethazine a chance to work, because, in her misery, she wanted to take as many doses as possible of anything that promised relief.

Having been told by the generous pharmacist that it was okay to take a second shot, which Crash didn't have, 4 hours after the first, Dee contacted a friend that lives near a pharmacy about 30 minutes from where they live. The pharmacy, by the grace of God, had Promethazine, but in one big bottle and no individual doses. The only solution to this problem was to open a syringe, take out a dose of the shot and send the open syringe on a tap tap Crash. So it was done.

When the opened and unlabeled syringe arrived, Crash had to wait yet another 30 or 40 minutes while her nurse, Monique, called the pharmacy to verify that the syringe contained none other than Promethazine. The pharmacist gave her guarantee, whatever THAT is, that it was the right medicine that they were about to inject into Crash. On faith, they did so and had to wait until the next morning to repeat the process.

In the morning, with no changes having occurred, Dee sent for another opened and unlabeled syringe to be brought. But there was a different pharmacist at the pharmacy that morning than was there the night before. This pharmacist insisted that the price they paid the previous night was incorrect and that they would have to pay double for it today. With an amused and understanding chuckle (because that happens a lot in Haiti), the double price was paid and the medicine brought.

After 3 shots and still worsening reactions, Crash nearly paid to have her plane ticket changed to that very day to go to America where this problem could be quickly solved, but decided to wait another day. During that day, her mom called and suggested taking a steroid to help it out. And by some more of God's grace, Dee found 5 steroid pills in a first aid kit which Crash, not sure about but totally desperate to find relief, took all at once at the suggestion of the bottle containing the pills.

She went to sleep hoping for the best, which is exactly what came piece by piece over the next week.

Crash woke up the next morning with a less-swollen face, which is the best improvement anyone had seen thus far. The day after that it looked almost its normal size. The rash persisted everywhere, but the swelling was going down and Crash could begin to move her mouth, talk more clearly and even smile a little in another day or so.

The rash went away very, very slowly and, as unpleasant as this may be, caused her face to crack and peel as it departed. The rash on her arms and chest and ears took much longer to calm down and is still irritating and itchy, but not so great a problem that she can't be thankful for this condition rather than her former one.

And let's not forget emotional damage. Crash can't so much as look at a mango without a certain terror encompassing her. She smelled some ripening mangoes in a depot and immediately ran away to wash her body, praying that the milk wasn't airborne or something. Another time, moving a playpen for the baby, a hanging mango bumped her on the head and she screamed, unhealthily afraid. Never before has a fruit drawn so much fear from a person, but she is recovering as best as can be expected.

She is thankful for those who prayed so fervently for her recovery and hopes never to encounter such a fruity disaster as this one ever again.

Story Time

Once upon a time under a mango tree, a white girl decided to be a part of the mango harvest (and by harvest, I only mean one tree in our yard) in Haiti. She isn't quite able to climb like the natives, so she decided to be the catcher of the picked mangoes on the ground while the natives threw them from above.

All was wonderful while she caught the mangoes and got all sticky from the syrupy milk that's in the mango vines. She and the natives played speed games to catch the mangoes and had a generally merry time.

After the fun, the white girl washed the sticky stuff off of her tanned skin and continued in normalcy until the next day, which was anything but normal...

After a night of restless sleep and seemingly random and unexplainable itching, the white girl, named Crash, got out of bed. After changing Lonia's diaper and wondering what that weird look on her face was, Crash exited her room and upon approaching her best friend, Dee, opened her mouth to ask a question. But Crash didn't have to speak, for the look on Dee's face had answered the question already.

"Whaaat in the wooooorld???" asked Dee.

"Yeah, I feel deformed, but from the look on your face, I must LOOK deformed as well," Crash answered.

"What happened?"

"I have no idea. What does it look like?"

"Not good," replied Dee, graciously understating the monster face Crash was wearing.

It turns out that after 23 years of life without a single allergic reaction to anything ever, Crash was allergic to the milk in the vines from which mangoes hang from the trees. Her face swelled up, barely leaving enough room for Crash to see beyond her protruding eyelids. She developed nasty rashes on every single solitary spot where the milk stuck to her, including both arms, both hands and all across her chest, and the same rash covered her swollen face.

Day one was nothing but questions, only a few of which were answered in the least. Pain was a general constant. Itching and burning came later that morning.

After a virtually sleepless night, which Dee joined Crash for just in case an emergency took place, day two was when monster face took its full swing. The resident nurse, Monique, went on a trip to find as many remedies for Crash as she could. She brought back, 3 creams, 2 lotions, 2 syrups and 1 box of pills.

None of them worked.

Two days passed.

Finally, Dee and her husband decided that Crash had been through enough, so they took her on a bumpy one and a half hour ride to a clinic. At the clinic, the guy in scrubs told them, after looking at the 3 creams, 2 lotions and box of pills, that they were using all the right medicines, they just needed to wait longer.

But after seeing the way Dee's face went savage and hostile as it did (and Crash's would have if she could have moved any facial muscles), the guy in scrubs said that a shot of Promethazine would help. But the clinic didn't have any.

Dee walked briskly across the street where there happened to be a hospital. She entered the hospital pharmacy, but Dee didn't have small enough change to buy the medicine (an ironically common problem in Haiti) so she waited 10 minutes while her temporary guide went to buy a coke to break the change, drink it and come back.

Upon his return, Dee asked for the exact shot she needed and the pharmacist said, "Oh, we don't have this."

"Of course, you don't," Dee said, dejected.

"But we do have individual doses in the operating room. But I can't sell that to you," the pharmacist replied.

"Then give it to me," Dee said with a sternness that cannot possibly be ignored.

And the pharmacist did just that.

Now, whether the shot worked or not, you will find out in the next edition of Story Time.

Our New Digs

After seven months of living inside the schoolyard with children everywhere, all the time, no privacy, constant noise, it's a dream-come-true to have a room with a breeze and open space at the beach property.

It's a whole new way of life with the whole team here. Dee's been looking out for me, letting everyone know to let me be when I sneak away for some desperately overdo time alone. I've tossed rocks at the ocean all by myself, not a soul within fifty yards of me. For months I've had people at my side, which can be good or bad, depending on your personality. For me, it just added to the infecting loneliness I'd been feeling for so long. I wanted companionship, but at the same time I wanted solitary confinement. I think what it all came down to was detaching and taking time to pray out loud knowing that only my Father could hear me. That one little thing turns out to have more value to me than I ever knew.

I value that time now for what it should have been to me all along- necessary. That time is necessary for mental sanity, emotional bearing, spiritual renewal. I have never known that more than I do at this very moment.

So now I relish. I relish in shutting my door and not being disturbed, in reading and napping without constant perusal, in working, eating, drinking and sleeping on my own schedule, and in speaking English and having those in my presence understand every word.

I am enjoying this new life. It's still adventurous. It's still challenging. It's still wonderfully complex. But it's become something now that's never been before- more than bearable, less than spoiling- it's become comfortable. I know that in spiritual terms that word may carry negative connotations. But at this point, I'll take comfortable over what it previously was any day.

Much love,
C

Preview: I believe I owe you a "Joy of Giving: Part 2". Be on the lookout.

That Look

Now that Lonia is in our midst again, I have had countless opportunities to look in those eyes that are too big for the body that holds them. Dee has spoken over and over of the fire in that little girl's eyes. But it's different to hear about it and now to see it for myself.

It's no matter what kind of look I give her, whether it is stern or gentle, full of panic or laced with joy, she always answers back with that same mysterious look, like she's got wisdom behind those eyes that I'll never touch.

Granted, there are those comical moments when she tries to imitate my features before I realize which ones I'm wearing. But when it's just her watching, looking, observing, searching, even silently replying to a statement I've made, she's got that look- that awesome, innocent, deep little look.

Gives me goosebumps everytime.

Dee can't quit repeating that this little fireball is especially special. She's known it for awhile. I'm just catching on. And for the both of us, it feels like God's working a little momentum into play. Care to join in the fun?

Much love,
C

Team of Friends

The team that visited last week is the same team that I have lead the last two years. Talk about a switch in role-play! I knew all but two of the girls that came personally so, after five months of fairly lonely circumstances, you can imagine how ecstatic I was to have a group of friends around.

It started out as the normal airport chaos. But this time I got to run the other end of it. Before, all I had to do was usher the girls around and wait for Dee's orders. This time I was negotiating and arguing and giving orders in Creole and driving and, well, you get the idea. I'm sure they were slightly taken aback.

And what better way to end a day of chaos than with a little more chaos? To say it simply, the truck broke down. Not only did it break down, it broke way down. The head gasket. It broke. Big time. So we pulled the little truck home by way of the big truck, which was just recently fixed. Did I mention that we had just replaced the clutch in the little truck THE DAY BEFORE all this happened? All I have to say is, Dorce Ministries will think twice before putting on the team someone who's very aura makes vehicles' entrails crumble.

Nonetheless, the team of the ladies from Hannibal-LaGrange College was more than happy to join us for the adventure. The week was spent telling stories and laughing and travelling and laughing. We made visits to four of our main locations- Carries, Cupois, Verrette and Montrouis. About four hundred kids got gifts of toys, food, candy, pencils, etc. The week was wonderful in every way I could have expected.

One of my favorite things to share was the testimony that this is not supernatural work for supernatural people. I know that most short-term student missionaries think that only special people are qualified for the work. I know that sometimes missionaries are put on a pedastal. But I got to tell them and prove to them that they're all candidates by saying that a year ago I was in their seat. I was a student leading a week-long mission trip. I was a college girl. A year ago. I'm a 23-year-old single gal. My qualifications are not exceptional. I have barely passed the stage they're in now.

That's what makes this whole situation so extraordinary. I have no idea why God chose me for this position at this time instead of someone else. But I guarantee that if He's done it with me, He can and will do it with whichever person in whichever place for whichever reason He wants to. If this has proved anything to me so far, it's that God doesn't need me.

The whole week was overwhelming and wonderful. And now we're back down to business.

Thanks for being with me for all this. It's a very big deal.

Much love,
C

No More Jokes

Question: How many Haitians does it takes to get a dump truck stuck in a ravine?
Answer: Usually just one, but this time it was two.

Question: How many Haitians does it take to attempt to pull a dump truck out of a ravine?
Answer: 56...on the first day.

Question: How many days does it take to pull a dump truck out of a ravine in Haiti?
Answer: 2

Question: How many Haitians does it take to actually pull a dump truck out of a ravine?
Answer: 27 on the second day.

Question: How many Haitians refused to listen to Crash throughout the entire ordeal?
Answer: 56+27=83

Question: How many 1/2-inch steel cables does it take to pull a dump truck out of a ravine in Haiti?
Answer: 1/2-inch steel cables aren't strong enough.

Question: How many times does a 1/2 steel cable need to break in half before 56 Haitians and one American finally realize that 1/2-inch steel cables aren't strong enough?
Answer: 6

Question:How many friggin-huge chains does it take to pull a dump truck out of a ravine in Haiti?
Answer: Only one, praise God.

Question: How many times when the camera malfunctions and misses the best part of trying to pull a dump truck out of a ravine in Haiti does it take to really tick Crash off?
Answer: Only a few.

Question: How many times did Crash praise God after He kept the truck from tipping over?
Answer: stopped counting after 18.

Questions: How many people think that if they'd done it their way in the first place the dump truck would have pulled out of the ravine before lunch on the first day?
Answer: 83 Haitians and one American named Crash.

Either way, it's out and I can breathe again.

Hope you enjoyed that.

Love.
-C

Book Quotations I Love

A vision without a task makes a visionary.
A task without a vision is drudgery.
A vision with a task makes a missionary.
-Dunning
As quoted in "Spiritual Leadership" by J. Oswald Sanders


Through prayer you can accmpany any missionary to remote parts of the earth. Through prayer you can walk through crowded bazaars, minister in steaming jungles, feed millions of starving men, women and children, hungry for bread for their bodies and for the Bread of Life.
-Wesley Duewel
"Touch the World Through Prayer"


The person accepting the Lord's call into the ministry is agreeing to live in a world of unfinished tasks. You are literally being sentenced to live beyond yourself. It is by its very nature impossible to live this life and do this work in your own strength. You will develop a strong prayer life or you will not survive. It's as simple as that.
-Joe McKeever
As quoted in "Prayer: The Timeless Secret of High-Impact Leaders" by Dave Earley


All men dream, but not equally. Those who dream by night in the dusty recesses of their minds awake to find it was vanity. But the dreamers of the day are dangerous men, that they may act their dreams with open eyes to make it possible.
-T.E. Lawrence
As quoted in "The Leadership Genius of Jesus" by William Bausay III


I wonder why it is that everywhere the apostle Paul went they had revolution, and everywhere I go they serve a cup of tea.
-some Anglican bishop
As quoted in "The Winning Attitude" by John Maxwell


(In the context of speeding up a learning process...)
When God wants to make an oak tree, He takes a hundred years. When He wants to make a squash, He requires only two months.
-James Garfield
As quoted by Maxwell


Let's discipline ourselves so that words are few and full.
-Richard Foster
"Celebration of Discipline"


Parents hold steady through the teen years, knowing that their children will emerge at the other end human once again!
-Richard Foster
same book...this one makes me laugh every time

I made up a joke

Question: How many Haitians does it take to change a lightbulb?

Punchline: How would I know?

A Haitian Wedding

4 am...woke up

5 am...packed my red dress and hit the road

6 am...drove as far as possible 'til we hit a ravine and had to hike from there

7 am...couldn't see a trail ahead, but saw a man leading a donkey which was carrying a pig, all being chased by a dog, so I figured we were headed somewhere towards civilization

8:30 am...arrived for the wedding and changed into the red dress

9 am...wedding at which I turned out to be the only photographer so people pushed me towards the bride and groom during all the important parts and made me sit in a chair on the stage...in the red dress

11 am...3o minute hike farther up the mountain to the newlyweds' new home

11:01 am...all the children of that and all other surrounding mountains spotted the white girl (me) and latched on for the hike, petting my arm hair and telling me I'm pretty

12:30 pm...arrived at the house drawing more attention than the couple because of the mob attached to me

1 pm...Wilckly started his toast as the best man

2 pm...Wilckly finished his toast (that's a joke)

2 pm for real...sat down to eat the wedding feast which consisted of rice and beans, pickley, pork, beet salad and all the other Haitian delicacies with exotic fruit like papaya, mango, pinapple and oranges- all decorated beautifully with cheese curls stuck to the end of toothpicks (that's not a joke). They made the shape of a heart with the cheese curls- how romantic.

2:30 pm...looked on as the whole place was attacked by people trying to get to the food. I saw rice and beans and cheese curls all flying in the air over a group f people crowding the table. I thought that if that was my wedding I would've cried, but the bride and groom just sat calmly nibbling their cheese curls.

3 pm...started the hike down the mountian in the red dress

5 pm...arrived at the truck which was waiting for us at the infamous ravine

5:01...the boys laughed at me because I was wearing a red dress...with my soccer shorts hanging lower than the hem of the dress.

5:30...chugged a coke

6 pm...bucket bath

7 pm...went to sleep and had nightmares about cheese curls

The Next Phase

Having been here four months now, I am seeing the different phases of my stint marked by very visible changes, mostly in relation to my company.

Upon arriving, I was naturally overwhelmed yet graciously in the shelter of guidance with Wilckly here to regulate things. But when things turned and he was carried away to prison, my dwellings were paralleled by the shift from shelter to the tent of independence. Praise God, I was not fearful of that condition, but savored Wilckly's presence in the weeks following his release. But then, from shelter to tent, I was introduced into the open skies of loneliness in leadership when he travelled Stateside.

Now, it may sound as if I'd been booted into the condition against my will, but I assure you that Wilckly's sabbatical (if it can be called that) was more necessary than I can describe to you. In saying this, though, I will not deny its difficulty. But in its difficulty, I can not also deny the necessity of this dwelling place for me. Without this time of orientation (in the extreme of the word) and if I hadn't learned the things I did during it, I would be the worse for it.

It is a privilege to be so honored of the Dorce's to have me sit in such a position in their absence. And to trust a person as they have trusted me is no small thing. Even further, God carried out His perfect, though uncomfortable, plan of accelerating me to the understanding I have now for this ministry, this people, this type of leadership and the things that are necessary to carry it out. I will be much more valuable to them in the rest of my time with here than I would be if Wilckly had stayed and cushioned the work for me.

Though I'm sure they didn't anticipate this time to be as it has been (and who could possibly do such a thing?), God knew since my first thought of this work, my first conversation with Dee, my first taste of the responsibility in this ministry that this would be His reckoning of it. And who can argue with sovereignty?

Anyway, I'm thankful for the whole lot of it. I have been refreshed by the conversation and fellowship of my visitors (though they have left me now). I am ready to jump back into the swing of Wilckly's presence and am taking a deep breath as the work begins again, as Wilckly always attracts more activity when he's here.

A few things I've noticed about Wilckly already:

1) he's more annoyed by the rats than me.
2) he has a higher standard for bananas than me.
3) we tend to drink more lemonade when he's around.
And 4) people generally respect him more than me, which is to be expected when you stand, in Haiti, a 40-something married Haitian man who founded the mission next to a 23-year-old white girl with no husband, no kids, no Kreyol, no experience and no idea what she's doing.

All my love,
C

Really?

I've always wondered why cars, trucks, vans and all other other motorized vehicles seem to fall apart, not just in my possession, but in my very presence.

My first car was previously driven by my brother and sister and their friends, but of course did not reach its end until the worst possible moment when in my possession. My second vehicle was, granted, as old as my first (both built in '88), but had its own set of problems that waited until the car was called mine before they surfaced.

You name it, I've had to deal with it- flat tires, bad engines, needing to start the car from its exterior, radiator problems, broken hoses, coolant leaks, noisy belts, pump failure, faulty horns, shatter-prone bearings, no heat, no gas, no wipers, no lights, no working gauges, the works.

Well, here in Haiti, my past seems to be repeating itself in all the ways I would have liked for it not to.

Since we got our "new" pickup, I've driven it for maybe a total of 8 hours and sat in the back waiting for it to be fixed for a rough total of 28 hours. The same tire has gone flat twice, the first of which was the first time I ever sat in the friggin' thing, and the time I tried to get a woman to the hospital so she wouldn't have her baby in the dirt a bearing shattered, which caused my serpentine belt to rip to shreds, handicapping the truck in the middle of nowhere with a screaming pregnant lady in the back.

We put her on a tap tap to the hospital and 6 hours later she came riding back toward home with a little baby girl. 4 hours after THAT, we finally got the truck pulled back to my yard and fixed a few days later, only for the radiator to break the next time I drove it. Holy crap.

So as you can imagine, I am wary of taking it too often, hoping that when I do need it to go to the city, it won't break again. So I ride tap taps or a bus instead when I have to go to Port au Prince.

I went in a bus on Monday, on which there was no sitting room. So I practically stradled the gear shift and held on to what was left of the rear view mirrior for an hour. Then we hit a motorcycle. Thankfully, the Haitians on the motorcycle were smart ones and instead of gripping the moto for dear life, they did the right thing- they bailed. And that was the end of the moto. What was a 2 hour trip turned into a 3 hour one, but we were fine.

I went to the city again yesterday and everything was perfect. Sitting room on either vehicle we rode- bus or tap tap. The whole trip was smooth, until about a mile from home...when the tire exploded.

Only God knows why it happens to me. I've got no explanation.

Happy New Year!

Love you.
-C