Directional

Today was one of those strange days for me. I was ready to move with all our goods from the trailers…except that the ship did not arrive. I would like to say I had a great back up plan. But the backup plan boils down to this, wait. Haiti has a way of conforming you to it’s way of life. If you fight it, you will be frustrated on so many fronts. Tonight, I sit here typing and trying to get my head right. Part of my problem is that for years I have worked to Americanize our trips. Our newest member Pat has reminded me of just how much I have pulled it off. There is a steep disconnect between what we experience here on the ground now and what these people live through every day. Right now, power is on in our half of the city, but we are one of the few houses on the street with all our lights on. There is a small freezer here in the mission house, when the power is on the first thing they do is rush to plug it in. If the power stays on long enough, the ice box will get cool enough to produce cold water. Nothing in it will ever freeze because the power never stays on for more than a couple hours, and then is out for days. It still only comes on at night in St. Marc. The house we stay in has tiled floors, wood trim around the doors, glass in the windows. It has flushing toilets, running water, and most of the conveniences of home. But while I sit here tying on my 15” speedy Macbook pro, 2000 people are across town in a long night prayer service begging God for food, for work, for a home, for the most basic of necessities. Today I was on lock down, apparently, I needed a fresh reconnect. As I sat at the orphanage watching the stream of children coming through for their school registration for next year, I noticed one of the mother’s clutching herself up high by her underarm. After I observed her for a couple of minutes I went over to her and asked her if she was in pain. She was. I asked our resident nurse Abigail and my wife Beth to check her out. It turns out she has a very large tumor under her arm. It’s location and size are alarming, and worse, she hasn’t been able to afford to see a doctor. She has two beautiful young children. Her husband has done a lot of carpentry work for us across the years. We sent her quickly off to the doctor with a $50-dollar bill. We haven’t heard anything yet tonight, and we might not. Haiti has a way of swallowing its own into anonymity. On the best day in Haiti life is stripped down to a very raw form of living. Our orphans are spending the night with us, it’s a rare treat to be away from the orphanage for a night, but in contrast to the rest of the children in Haiti tonight, for them there is never a respite. My ambitious claim for today is that I built a toy. What’s in a toy you may ask? A lot of humility, and a very happy child who is fascinated by the world of mechanics. Stripped of wise words and inspirational thoughts, with no tools in my hand, or the back of rig to stand on. With a few pieces of plastic I built something grander than I have for a while, a marble machine. No, it didn’t bring water to the masses, no it didn’t fill a church with the sound of tinkling cymbals, but it did make the eyes of a little boy dance as we pumped marbles through our little tower. I watched his eyes track the gears and wheels and screws. I watched him take in the path of gravity, the directional changes of the balls as the tubes sent the marbles first to the right and then back to the left. This kid is bright, he is our littlest orphan, he is 6 and goes to school Monday through Thursday from 8am to 5pm. He is writing in brilliant cursive! As I go through the checks and balances of the days’ objectives, of all the things I did today, and will perhaps through this whole trip, probably the hour spent on the floor with a six-year-old will count for more in eternity than anything else I will do. His eyes popping with wonder as he watched me build was my reminder that sometimes the greatest gift we give is the gift of time. I learned that on my very first trip into Haiti, today, in one smooth brush stroke, God sent me back there for a refresher course. The house is mostly quiet now, I am sitting here waiting for the tank to fill, we discovered tonight there must be a leak that has drained away a couple hundred of gallons of water. To add to the complexity of the day and late evening was the discovery that there was no water for the rest of the team to shower. All these things are meant to tear at our callouses, to reshape our perspective, to properly reinstate our purpose and understanding for why we are actually here. As of 11:00pm tonight the boat was not into the dock yet, so I’m not setting my hope on that for tomorrow, my Hope is in Him who sent me, to do His bidding among these people, it will all happen in His time. Of this I am sure. Time for some rest, and to prepare my Sunday morning message, blessings to all from St. Marc tonight!