Simple Gifts

 
Our bags are packed. We are ready to leave Mizak early tomorrow morning.  In our bags are souvenirs, artistic gifts for our loved ones back home.  The gifts we bring home for ourselves can not be packed in a suitcase.  They are much more simple and much, much more valuable.
 
Tonight, following our last meal, we sat in a circle under the tangerine trees.  We watched the sun set and reflected on this amazing week.  For a group that barely knew one another just a few weeks ago, we have become a rock solid (make that volcanic rock solid) mission team.  From these kind, caring, amazing people, I have received many gifts.

On the second night here, I joked that I had figured out Valerie's secret.  She was really "Batman."  By day, quiet West Michigan Conference colleague, but by night unstoppable change-agent of Mizak, Haiti!  Fore those who know Valerie, I wish you could see her in action on this mountain.  She is Mizak's U.S. partner, passionate for change.  She is also the person to thank for nudging me to take this unforgettable journey.

Sue brought a special gift of compassion.  An attorney and divorce arbitrator, she donates countless hours to keep Michigan homes free of violence and abuse. I watched as she gently and sensitively introduced the topic to about 40 Haitian women.  I expected nothing but stony silence.   Soon, Sue had them sharing their own stories of abuse and survival and thinking how they would protect one another.

The gift of preaching came from Carol. Who else could offer up a sermonette on Jello, in a country that will never see the jiggle or the wiggle of that food, and still be able to powerfully translate the story of caring for one another as Christians.  

Nichea, our United Methodist Woman board member, provided the steady keel of our mission ship. Funny and easy going, her relaxed demeanor is in contrast to her constant keen eye for opportunities to leverage future support for this country.  Thank you Nichea  for helping us talk through each emotional  day.  We all slept more soundly because of that caring gift each night.

Don is our senior team member and my roommate this week.  A person of quiet strength and spirituality as deep as an ocean. His special gift was to capture each day in one single powerful and meaningful story.  Each night we sat, captivated by his tranquil baratone voice, as he shared where he saw the face of Christ each day.  

Ulrich, our Haitian native translator, able production assistant, and guide gave us the gift of both understanding and peace.  He became our main bridge between two languages and two cultures. Ulrich brought clarity to every thing we experienced.  Thanks to his gift, I was able to step way out of my box this week in peace.  I knew we were always safe in Ulrich’s hands.

The entire staff of HAPI provided us endless daily gifts.  They became our family away from home.  They fed our bodies and spirits. They cleaned our clothes of the red earth and worked to meet our every need.  They were Shalom.  I will never forget them.

And all of us need to take time this week to offer thanks for the gift of Ash Norton.  It will be hard saying goodbye to Ash.  We feel like this Gaylord native should be flying home with us tomorrow.  Back to his home in Kalamazoo, to his wife and fellow mission intern Stephanie.  Ash and 17 other interns live this life on behalf of The United Methodist Church every day for 18 months. They are your ambassadors of Christ to the world.  It is hard, often thankless work.  Please pray for all of them and for the critical work they do.

My greatest thanks was for the gift of the people of Mizak, Haiti.  Your spirit.  Your heart.  Your kindness.  Your hospitality.  You will never know how deeply you have changed me. Every encounter I will cherish.  I came fully expecting to be the gift giver, but you have out-gifted me.  My heart has never been fuller. My relationship with God never deeper. 
Goodbye Mizak, Haiti.  Thank you for your gifts.

Until we greet one another again I wish you Shalom.

Remembering Ed

Remembering Ed

Word reached me that Pastor Ed Mohr had been killed in a tragic bike/car accident the week before we left for Haiti. It left me stunned. 

Ed was a trusted colleague, who in addition to pastoring two United Methodist Churches,  used his gift for technology to bring websites to other churches, districts and ministries of the conference. His calling came late in life and he only served as a pastor for the last 8 years of his life.  Ed was a giver.  Often I would tell him about a ministry struggling to get a websites up and he would say, "Send them to me, I'll take care of it."   Weeks later I would hear that Ed the job was done and there was no bill for the services.  That was Ed. 

He had other passions too.  He loved cycling.  He also shared a love and devotion to Haiti. No one has been able to tell me if Ed ever visited Haiti. We never discussed it.  Whether he did or not, he acted like it.  He gave countless hours to support the people of this island.  He produced the Ride for Haiti website and each year climbed on his bike to help raise thousands of dollars to support ministries on this island.  

Ed was a gift to our church and a gift to me.  He was always there when I needed a spare hand connecting our church with the world.  I confess, the week before leaving for Haiti, I was getting really cold feet.  My opportunities to back out of this trip were running out and my anxiety was rising.  Ed's death reminded me that we can be taken any day.  Live life to its fullest.  The night of Ed's death I handed my life over to God.  If my creator wanted to take me in Haiti so be it. One week later, I climbed on a plane, took a leap of faith and have been transformed by the people of Mizak.

As the sun set tonight, Nichea, Don, Carol, Sue, Valerie and I climbed to the ridge overlooking  Mizak valley.  We gently placed Ed's photograph on an ancient burial rock as I read Rev. Laurie Haller's beautiful tribute to Ed.  I don't mind sharing that I shed a few tears tonight for Ed.  Tears of loss for an incredible friend and colleague.  Tears of joy for my new life found in Jesus Christ.  Goodbye my friend Ed.  Thank you and Amen.  

How to eat an elephant

Do you know that old joke, "How do you eat an elephant?"  The answer: "One spoonful at a time."  That old bit of wisdom has been running through my head since the first day we arrived in Mizak.   

The people of this village needed to fix a terrible road outside of the Shalom Zone.  It was a rugged volcanic trail about the length of a city block.   Most of us would have looked at that huge job and waited until we could rent a bulldozer.  Not here.  HAPI arranged for 30 people to volunteer for a few days.  From the construction site, about a quarter mile from the road, men filled 5 gallon buckets by hand. Then, the women put these buckets of rocks (yes rocks) on their heads and began the steady walk to the road site.   After the buckets were emptied, teenage girls raked them into place.  That is how you build a road in Mizak. One bucket at a time. That is how you do everything in Mizak.

This morning, we met with a group of community leaders.  We sat in a circle with a wonderful mix of ecumenical pastors, business leaders, HAPI staff, even a real-for-real local witch doctor.  Our free-wheeling conversation centered on what Mizak leaders felt the area needed to move forward. These leaders all talked of elephant-sized projects.   Schools, hospitals, trade-centers and more.   What they did not discuss was if they could get a hand-out.

On this mountain leaders have learned to seek out those who will walk beside them offering guidance and the exchange of knowledge.  That has been the gift of HAPI.  The re-education of aid.  That is not to say they would not appreciate receiving a free ambulance, or some building supplies.  They appreciate practical donations that provide a means to an end.  They have a deep pride and dignity. They want to build up their own community one spoonful at a time.  All we have to do is guide them in the best direction.   But that is not the case everywhere.

After our meeting and lunch, 19 of us crawled into a small van. Our van carried our six-member team, the mission intern and the staff of HAPI.  We headed to Jacmel, a city of about 100,000 people that sits at the base of the mountain.  The poverty there is palatable. Our driver took us to a magnificent public beach. Shortly after arriving, we began to feel like light bulbs glowing in a community of moths.  The sight of our team immediately brought out swarms of vendors and beggars.  They quickly surrounded us on the beach.  Locals loudly argued over who would take our food order as tables of crafts began springing up around us.  Boys with machetes and coconuts pulled at our sleeves. 

Understandably, the tranquil water called to us. It was amazing!  After baking in 90+ temps every day this week, the ocean water provided a soothing float.  Soon, we were approached by five boys floating on plastic milk jugs.  They offered us beautiful conch shells. Cost $1.  We declined.  Two for $1. No thank you.  Three for $1.  Really, no thank you!   Finally, I had to ask the mission intern, Ash, the Creole words for “I have no money on me!”  Those words changed the equation.  First, the boys teased me and patiently helped me correct my Creole.  Then they began to ask questions.  After a few minutes, a 7 year old boy placed a shell in my hand and said something I could not understand.  Ash translated for me, “It’s a gift. He wants you to have it. No cost.”  Something changed in that moment.  I was the recipient of a friendship gift.  These boys quickly joined our group of happy swimmers, splashing in the water. 

Back on the beach, lunch arrived.  An amazing grilled lobster meal for $5.  As we ate, looking out to the ocean, other kids sat and watched us take every bite.  Frequently, one would approach and try to sell us a shell, or beg for food. Let me tell you, nothing tastes very good when you are under the hungry gaze of beautiful kids.  After our meal, we left the beach and headed back up the mountain to our guest house.  When we arrived, the HAPI staff had prepared yet another meal for us.  None of us had much of an appetite thinking about those kids on the beach.  Out of respect for our gracious and hard-working hosts, we ate some of the food.

After our meal, we sat together and talked through our day.  We had such complicated feelings of guilt.  What did God want us to do in those situations.  Were we "puppy kickers" as one put it?  Everything on the beach felt like a lose-lose situation.  If we gave in to the temptation and handed over food or money, we would find ourselves complicit in a life of begging in these young children. That is a life not sustainable over time.   But, by not giving in, those kids went hungry tonight.  Either path did not feel very Christ-like.  

Thankfully, as we sat mulling over these difficult thoughts, 18-year old Mackendy (see photo) and his 16-year old sister Fabie stopped by.  What awesome kids they are.  Smart, funny, polite and filled with confidence.  Every night, they are a joy to be around and are such a superb example of how HAPI has helped empower this community.  These kids build roads one bucket at a time. I have seen it. They came to the porch to hang out with us, practice their English and ask questions about Michigan.  They have done nothing but give of themselves. I was able to set up a quick Skype video chat with my family and it was so awesome to watch as my wonderful wife Barb and our daughters chatted with these two terrific kids from Haiti. I could not tell who enjoyed the conversation more.

In my heart, I know that handing Mackendy and his sister a fistful of cash on my way down the mountain might make me feel a bit less guilty, but it won't really help them reach their total potential. Instead, we will need to figure out how to walk with this community and help build a school on this mountain top.  That's an elephant sized job. Somebody hand me a spoon.

BonDye Bon

 

When God created man, he made him in the likeness of God. He created them male and female and blessed them. -Genesis 5:1-2

  

Life is hard for the women of Haiti.  What I have witnessed has kept my wife Barb and my two daughters, Katie and Emma, on my mind every day on this trip.  I see them in the eyes of those I meet.  Woman must survive in a complicated and complex social order.  They are expected to raise children, work, keep the house and support their family. They earn little respect and the inequalities are very hard to understand.  HAPI is trying to change that.

This morning we visited the home of a woman named Allude.  We had to take the motorcycles down to her home (sorry mom, I know my last blog on my cycle experience had you shaking, but now I’m accustomed to gliding down a mountain without power or holding on).  After the cycles could go no further down the trail, we hiked down a long and narrow path to Allude’s simple home.    

She is the recipient of one of HAPI Credi’s micro loans.  Allude was given about $75 to create a “store” for herself.  She used the money to purchase a few products, rice, oil, sugar, flour, bouillon, dried milk and a few other items to sell at market. She piles them into a metal bowl and places it on her head, walking about 2 hours to market.  Taking the cost of product and payment of the low 3% interest loan, she has enough money to feed her 8 children and send 5 of them to school.  She cannot yet afford to send all of her children to school.  Alude is grateful that HAPI will loan her the money.  As she said, “Otherwise, I would have to wait for God to provide.”  During the wait, kids go hungry and school stops. Thankfully, the loan has empowered her to run a small and effective business.

The key to these micro-loans is self-sustainability.  The world has been very generous, particularly following earthquakes and hurricanes.  The problem with charity though, is that it stops when the news stories end.  The money dries up and then those receiving are left without useful skills to figure out where the next meal comes from.  

We followed Allude to HAPI’s training center and co-op. Eddy Joassint, Director of Enterprise, Facilitation and Financial Services helped lead a class on business for the HAPI artisans.  They are training these women to be savvy business operators.  Niche marketing, competitive pricing, inventory management, labor and materials cost and more.   

Our next dusty ride was to HAPIKlinik.  About 20 women, nearly all in their first trimester of pregnancy, sat on the shady front porch.  They were receiving valuable health lessons and then provided a lunch.  Some walked almost 90 minutes to attend.  This is a completely up hill march, over Mizak’s red, “Mars like” volcanic trails.  Oh, have I mentioned at some time that it’s really hot here?  You can not believe how difficult these journeys are, but the care provided makes it all worth it for the women of this community.

Most of you viewing the HAPI clinic would think you had stepped back into the early 20 century.  We are talking very, very basic.  Inside there is a bed, a basin and thankfully a few medications on a shelf.  But here, the fact that HAPI even has this to offer, is considered a major blessing.  In this community of 30,000 people there is not one single doctor.  There are a few midwives, most with very limited knowledge.  The closest hospital is a two-hour walk or 50-minute ride in the back of a truck down unpaved rocky roads. For delivery, you are basically on your own.

Following the clinic visit, we were invited by three of the women to visit their homes.  We were welcomed as honored guests in these modest two room homes and great effort was made to make us comfortable.   The first woman, a 38-year old mother of 6 was expecting her 7^th child.  She was remarkably frank with us.  Giving birth was weighing heavily over her head.  Giving birth is not a time of joy and anticipation, but a time of fear.  Death is always a serious and very real possibility for mother and child.   

It is here where you really have to work hard not put on the American “Something is very wrong here and we have to do something to fix this” viewpoint.  Haitians have experienced hundreds of years of women giving birth free of hospitals and doctors and technology.  It is accepted that this is part of life.  They would gladly welcome any assistance and desire a maternity hospital, but they believe, “BonDye bon!” God is good.  What happens on the day they deliver, they believe, is in God’s hands. 

Standing in the doorway of these women’s homes, I was chilled at the idea that my wife or daughters would ever have to experience childbirth this way.  I was sad that any woman anywhere in the world would have to experience child birth this way.  The mission team  looked at each other. We all felt helpless.  But we could not just walk away and so we asked if they would be willing to accept our prayers.  We surrounded these women, placing our hands upon their shoulders and prayed.  We prayed for their safe delivery, for healthy babies, for freedom from fear and anxiety and for their homes and families.   

Then quietly we left their homes, waving goodbye and quietly saying, "May God be good to you."

Let there be Peace

John 14:27  Peace I leave with you; my peace I give to you. Not as the world gives do I give to you. Let not your hearts be troubled, neither let them be afraid.

Today is the United Nations Day of Peace.  On the porch I watched as children, dressed in their matching lime green peace brigade uniforms, walked past the gate on their way to church.  Today, the worship service was celebrated at the Mizak Center, instead of Peace Park.  The people of this community wanted to offer thanks again to God for this wonderful new center.

As part of the celebration we used Skype technology to link to Trinity United Methodist Church in Grand Rapids and with the children of University United Methodist Church in East Lansing.  What captivated me about connecting these children today was how similar the experience seemed to be in both countries.  They all wanted to share names, learn what each other did for fun, what everyone had for breakfast this morning and when they went to school.   

It was great to take the children of Mizak on a video field trip.  On Friday, Valerie Mossman-Celestin took me to a jaw dropping vista where you could see the ocean and the city of Jackmel below.  She told me that many of these kids will see this view nearly every day of their lives, but never experience the sand, sun and beckoning blue waters. The time and cost to get there is too much. 

When the chat ended, the HAPI kids were much too excited to leave and go to church.  We sat for hours and looked at photos of Michigan and of my family.  Honestly, I skipped a few.  Like the water balloon battles at church camp.  When you consider water as lifesaving liquid gold, the thought of putting it in balloons and throwing it at each other for fun would seem totally insane.   And, by the way, before you worry that I kept children from church, keep in mind that today’s service lasted an entire day.  It went so long that sandwiches, drinks and cake were distributed among the congregation during the service.   

Hundreds showed up in the 90+ degree heat to give thanks to God for this center and to talk and pray for peace. There were hours of testimonies on the need for peace.  Our own Carol Hillman even sharing how God’s peace showed up at her house in the form of a jello mold. Her testimony was a hit, even if the locals have no idea what jello is. We sat and meditated ALL DAY on peace.  When was the last time you spent an hour focused on peace, let alone six?  Maybe the world would be a better place if we all spent that half that much time meditating on this critical topic and getting to know our brothers and sisters in Christ around the world.  I know my opinion of the Haitian people has been forever changed by three simple days.

Tonight, a young 18 year old man named Mackenzie, a new pal, offered to take me and mission team member Don Meadows to a soccer game.  I assumed he was referring to the pick-up game a young boy had mentioned earlier in the day.  A side note; when a local say it’s just "a short walk", they mean "short" in Haitian terms. Bring water.  Soon, we were walking quite a distance along narrow trails, past huts and farm fields and animals.  Three days ago, the thought of doing this without the security of our translator at our side would of totally freaked me out. And yet, here we were, walking with our new friend, being warmly welcomed by villagers along the trail.  The path opened onto a huge rocky field.  We were amazed to see over 500 people watching  two local teams duke it out for the community championship.  Unreal.  We stayed until half time, then Mackenzie took us back to the Shalom Center so we could catch the sunset.  Looking out across the tranquil valley, I found myself totally at peace.   

My prayer is that you were at peace today too.  Shalom!

Peace Pals

Today proved to me that children around the world are the same everywhere.  Well, maybe they are a bit different here in Haiti.  I have not seen 200 children in America, immaculately dressed, packed inside a non air conditioned concrete building, in 90+ degree humid heat, sit quietly over four hours to watch adults talk about building and peace construction. Not only did these kids do so, dozens more stood in line frustrated they could not get inside. So they stood outside in the baking sun, craning to stick their heads inside the few open windows to catch some of the action.  Really.  Seriously.  It happened here in Mizak, Haiti.

Today we officially opened the Merlet Center, a 7000 square foot building that will house local artisans, internet café, staff offices, HAPI credi (micro-credit center)and classrooms that will provide extension education from a major United Methodist University.  This building was a gift from the people of The United Methodist Church. $295,000 used to hire local people to build a life-changing facility.

Can you think about the last time a building opened in your community that as so important to your life that the entire town shut down and showed up for an entire day to celebrate its opening.  This is a huge deal for Mizak.  This center means jobs, education, connection to the world and it will be run locally and self sufficient.  The local artisans will have lights and electricity to create the works that will bring income back to Haiti.

And a message to all my Michigan Peace Pals;  To the kids at University, Trinity, Millwood and Lincoln Road UMC in Riverdale. Your portraits and messages of peace were a total hit! The kids here loved them. You should see what they are sending back to you! Watching them sing and play and glue their portraits together reminded me exactly of all of you. Yup, kids here are exactly like you (except for that sitting quietly for hours in a hot church thingy).  They giggle and laugh and play, just like you.   The teens and tweens listen to music on their cel phones, braid hair and talk about each other, just like you.  While I photographed a road being built, the occasional donkey walking by, I heard the very music my own daughters listen to coming from their cel phones.  The girls were dancing to the music, raking the road, while others brought buckets of rocks balanced perfectly on their heads to build the road.  Last night we watched dozens of kids playing soccer, laughing and having a blast.  Could have been in East Lansing for all I knew.  Okay, the donkey sitting on the side of the field kept me in check. 


Today, we also played “Sears Portrait Studio.”  Here in Mizak, you can’t just zip over to your local photo studio to get your family portrait taken. So, we took the portraits of 115 families and children.  Later, we’ll get them printed and sent back to Mizak to hang in the Ti Kai “little house.”  When I post them, don’t be surprised that there are few smiles. Culturally, photography is a serious business. Especially, for the men. Many went from laughing to drawn faces when it came time to snap their photos.  Then when we were done, a huge smile would come back over their face and they would say “Merci!.” 

The simple things in life.  A family photo, an art project, a new building that means your family can have a meaningful job and food on the table.  That’s this place.  There is much Haiti can teach us about life and faith and gratitude for the life giving things God provides to you.  I’m starting to get it…and we’ve only been here 48 hours.

Wishing you a very HAPI International Day of Peace.  May God Bless you!

A light in the dark

“You are the light of the world. A town built on a hill cannot be hidden. ¹⁵ Neither do people light a lamp and put it under a bowl. Instead they put it on its stand, and it gives light to everyone in the house." - Matthew 5:14

Today, I basically violated every single bit of safety advice I would ever give to my own daughters Katie and Emma.  Our team leader Valerie informed me we would be climbing on motorcycles (3 to a bike) and traveling down the mountain to the river.  One of the long term missionaries heard we were going and remarked, “You’ll love it, there is absolutely no sound going down the mountain on a bike.”  Wait, no sound?   Only later did I figure out that the use of valuable gasoline to go downhill is a waste when gravity will happily pull you down the mountain. Duh.  I climbed and prayed, “please God, be my co-pilot.” 

We were following a lovely woman named Francoise or her way to the river. I filmed as she gathered empty cement sacks from construction sites and then traveled to the river to wash them.  Later, she will bind them into beautiful gratitude journals.  HAPI will help her export them.  Her story, is a great example of how HAPI and The United Methodist Church are transforming lives here in Haiti. 

From the back of the bike you get a real context for Haiti.  The many stories told here are formed against a backdrop of a country that has virtually no infrastructure.  It is so hard for anyone to comprehend the total lack of infrastructure. The majority of the roads, particularly where we are, would be considered rugged two tracks in our country.  There is no electricity, no running water, no sewers.  Need to use the bathroom?  The tree is right over there.  Let’s pretend that the United States as it is would be a perfect 10 for infrastructure. Haiti is a 2. On a rainy day, a 1. Living in Haiti is a lot like living in a very-very rustic campground.

Many of the people of this region live right on the side of the road in shelters built from whatever materials they can find lying around.  Here, they sleep, eat, and run small businesses. From these crude sheds, that many Americans would consider too small, too rundown or too dirty to store a lawnmower, you will find tiny shelves offering a small assortment of wares for sale. Some sell the fruit from their own gardens, others sell hair care products, or shoes, or car batteries.  What ever can be found will be sold. 

Haiti is a country built of entrepreneurs. Survival is a powerful incentive. There is basically no middle class to be found in Haiti.  There is wealth or poverty.  70% of the people live on less than $1 US dollar a day. If you can take some free used cement sacks and create an artistic gratitude journal that earns you $7 or $8 for a days work, that goes a long way towards feeding a family.

The whole idea of charitable work here is a complex and difficult idea.  Here’s one example.  Following the earthquake of January 2010, compassionate people of the world flooded the country with much needed safe bottled drinking water.  So much in fact, that the Nestle bottling plant in Haiti lost significant revenue from sales and was forced to layoff workers who had some of the few jobs spared from the earthquake. 

The world often sends expertise to Haiti but then fail to teach anyone how to do it for themselves.  So when anyone with any knowledge leaves, so does the opportunity for self sustainability and advancement.  When we generously bring young people to our country, care for them and educate them, it’s also understandable why they want to stay put.  Another opportunity to grow Haiti is lost.

The Shalom Center in Mizak is a compound that sits high atop a mountain.  For the people of this area it truly is a place of peace.  On this acre there is a colorful community center, a modern playground, 30,000 gallon cisterns that offers clean drinking water, a clinic, the soon to open Merlet entrepreneur center and much, much, more.  The people of this community have been educated and hired to build these facilities.  The artisans are given business lessons on how to get their products to American markets.  It is ministry WITH* the poor and it is growing.  That is not to say that our gifts are not needed.  When you donate to a place like HAPI, the funds are used to care and educate those living here. The knowledge stays here.  Watching Francoise, beautifully dressed, kneeling at the river, creating a beautiful writing book from a filthy used concrete bag, is a living testament to what God is doing here through the people of The United Methodist Church.

The sun has set and the generator has kicked on.  As we walk back in the pitch dark, after touring the village water source in the valley, we see that the Shalom Center literally becomes a bright beacon on the top of the hill.   The people of Mizak are naturally drawn to it.  So am I.

Into the rabbit hole

Sitting on the front porch of the Peace Inn, inside the Shalom Zone of Mizak, Haiti, it feels like I am experiencing a very strange dream.   The generator is running, providing a few lights and powering four laptops.  We are all trying to access the satellite internet before the gas runs out and we are plunged into total darkness.

There is absolutely no way to fully explain our introduction to Haiti today.  It was complete and total sensory overload.  My brain can not stopped spinning, even though we have been up since 3AM. 

Our flight left Detroit at 6AM. A minor issue set our flight back more than 30 minutes.  This is  typically not a problem, unless your next flight leaves at the time you arrive.  We found ourselves running through Miami airport as our names were paged for final boarding.  Valerie had warned us to fill our water bottles before we left.  We had to call our translator Ulrick.  We needed food.  Most of that would have to wait. We jumped on the plane and arrived in Haiti a short 90 minutes later.  Thankfully, Ulrick had everything arranged and after a frenzied period of getting through customs we were loaded into a van.  Then our adventure really began.

For those of you who have not been to Haiti, the drive through Port-au-Prince is a bit difficult to describe.  It is kind of like Mr. Toad’s Wild Ride mixed with a Mad Max movie.  The entire experience is complete chaos.  Bumper-to-bumper traffic, excessive speeds, no rules, narrow streets and wall-to-wall people sitting on the edge of the road.  The driver honks his horn constantly, forcing his way around slower traffic.  You are always one dump truck from disaster.  Colorful tap-taps, Haiti’s form of public transportation, has people  hanging literally from every square inch. The air is choked with smog, dirt and the smell of burning garbage.  The sounds of Porta Prince are deafening.  You get the idea.  It’s overwhelming and at the same time fascinating.

Soon we moved into the countryside.  Haiti is beautiful.  A richly green country.  We climbed into the mountains, and were provided stunning views of the ocean and hillside farms.  You can not help but think Haiti would be one of the world’s most sought after travel destinations except for the total lack of infrastructure and breathtaking poverty.  Roads suddenly disappear into rock piles or are washed away by rivers. Even hours outside of the city, there are people sitting under primitive shelters selling whatever they have.  Thousands of minature dollar stores. We keep climbing, so high in fact that I joke,"Any minute now were going to see a sign that says 'Pearly Gates 5 Miles.' "

We eventually arrived around 4:00PM, relieved to see the colorful outer gates of the Shalom Center. We entered the compound to the peaceful calm of a thriving mission. Tomorrow, I will describe this amazing place in detail and bring you pictures.  For now, sleep calls. I expect to wake again to this dream.  God bless. 

Precious cargo

Our journey has begun. In just a few hours we will get the 3AM wake up call that will transport us from a world we know, to a world of the unknown.  This is the next step for Carol Hillman, Don Williams, Nichea Ver-Veer Guy and Sue Keener, the mission team I am following.  The team leader Valerie Mossman-Celestin is already in Mizak, Haiti, anxiously awaiting our arrival tomorrow.

Packed carefully inside our suitcases, next to the cameras, and rain gear and mosquito repellant are 200 precious works of art.  The children of four West Michigan Conference churches (Trinity Grand Rapids, Lincoln Road UMC in Riverdale, University Church in East Lansing and Kalamazoo Millwood) carefully glued scraps of colorful torn paper to create portraits of themselves.  They are to be shared as offerings of peace to the children of Mizak, Haiti.  A simple caring expression that says, “We care about you and want to be in community with you.” What makes this art so precious is that peace offerings are a rare commodity for the people of Haiti.

Since Christopher Columbus stumbled upon this large island in the western Atlantic in 1492, its history has been one of pain and cruelty.  Haiti suffered under the domination of a host a conquering nations.  Sadly, our country has been part of this history. For hundreds of years Haiti’s people were viciously enslaved and its lands robbed of rich natural resources.  When the people of Haiti finally rose up they rid themselves of foreign masters, but somehow not the unthinkable cruelty.  Our impression of Haiti is mostly comprised of images of dictators, violence, disease and unthinkable natural disasters.  Peace is a rare commodity in Haiti.

To quote the Dali Lama, “If you think you are too small to make a difference, try sleeping with a mosquito.” Those traveling with me are convinced of this simple idea.  No one is too small to make a big difference.  A 6 year old with a glue stick and some construction paper can be the first of many tiny steps needed to find God in a country marred by hundreds of years of pain and suffering.  Will this trip change Haiti?  Probably not. But the folks waiting for that 3AM wakeup call are pretty certain it will change some lives.  I’m at peace with that.

Time to get some shut eye.  I’ll check in with you from Miami.

Taking a shot of faith

There is nothing about preparing for a trip to Haiti that says, "Hey! This sounds like a great idea!" Earthquakes.  Hurricanes.  Dire State Department warnings of spontaneous violent protests.  And shots. Lots of shots.  Shots for hepatitis. Shots for cholera.  Shots for tetanus and dengue fever.  And pills for malaria and other diseases long forgotten from the vocabulary of the modern world. It all seems a bit ominous.  But still, faithfully, I keep packing.

For months, I have been preparing to follow and report on a group of missionaries from Grand Rapids, MI headed by the leader of an innovative aid organization called Haitian Artisans for Peace International (HAPI).  According to its Co-Founder, Valerie Mossman-Celestin,"HAPI encourages creativity, promoting gender equality, creating economic opportunity, and growing healthy communities’ towards our vision of Living out Christ in community for a world of peace with justice."  How that mission physically shows up is in the form of microcredit, children's art programs, Communities of Shalom, community based health care and housing reconstruction.

Our team is headed to Mizak to open the Merlet Center, a 7000 square foot facility being constructed with support of the people of The United Methodist Church to house the many ministries of HAPI.  From September 20th to 28th our team will live in this mountainous, rural section of La Vallee in the Southeast section of Haiti, about a 3-hour drive south of Port-au-Prince. 

My role in Haiti will be to learn what the West Michigan Conference and The United Methodist Church are doing in Mizak and to discover if we are making a difference.  Here, the vast majority of the population, just over 35,000 people, live on less than a $1.00 per day.  Most of them are children.  I will be returning with plenty of video and photographs to share this important story.  But I am also going to Haiti for another reason, my faith.

As you can imagine, preparing for this trip has left me lying awake in the middle of the night, on more than a few occasions, wondering what the heck I am doing.  As a father to two spectacular daughters and a loving wife (of 19 years tomorrow) who count on me, I question if this is wise idea.  Based on the looks given to me upon learning of my trip, I see my friends and family are wondering too.  But I know my vision of Haiti has been shaped by the news cycle.  Cameras that only seems to show up in Haiti when it is at its very worst.  Thankfully, I have also been surrounded in the past few years by missionaries, pastors and laity that have made this country their life work.  They happily return, year-after-year, often in unstable conditions to do God's work.  There is something important going on in Haiti. My plan is to find out what that is and bring that story back to the United States.  

So, in addition to my other shots, I'm also taking many shots of faith.  Faith that calls me to step way-way out of my comfort zone to travel to a foreign land.  Faith that God will watch over me and those I travel with.  Faith that my family will be cared for while I am away.  Faith that I am feeling called to be the hands and feet of Jesus Christ.  

Stay tuned and pray for us.  I hope to be posting daily right here (God willing that the generator and internet signal holds out).