Symphony

Yesterday was what I call a symphony of chaos. A strategy in randomness. A whirlwind of disorder that landed with everything right side up. As I watched Robinson navigate the customs universe of Haiti it was something to behold. He knows his country, his people, and the system that runs it all. His connections are brilliant. As we sat in one place listening to the noise of so many negotiating people, he said to me: ‘I never need to do this’. The dear friend that is doing all the footwork for us is a very powerful and smart woman, but she has had to go all over the place getting our documents stamps and properly verified. I said to Robinson one time as she was walking away from us, she is really sweating. He said, she is really working hard! I knew in that moment that without her, there is no way we would get our trailers for days.  In the midst of this activity I purchased new mattresses for our orphan boys beds, their old ones are really worn out. Stuff here is terrible in quality, and the boys are a little rough. On the way to the house I asked Rob how we could get rid of the old ones and he said, someone will need them. I cringed on the inside. But then I remembered the woman I have noticed each day who spends hours sitting or sleeping on a concrete ledge on the street corner close to the Mission house. Sometimes she was naked, sometimes clothed, and I realized she would not even notice the condition of the mattress compared to what she has now. Rob said they have a song in Haiti, whatever you don’t need or want, someone else will. He went on to say it’s the same with people. If there is someone you don’t think you can use, someone else will. How out of sorts does our thinking get. We are a country that proclaims tolerance, and yet divisions abound. 70 churches here in St. Marc work together for a city wide evangelization one time a year, on so many levels this is profound. When I asked Robinson about the differences in the churches, he said we need to set those aside for the greater mission. How quickly we race to judgement on what divides us rather than entertain discussion and forward momentum on what unites us. The woman who is such close friends with Rob is a Seventh Day Adventist, but they way they get along with each other one would suppose they were brother and sister. Back to the symphony, as we tumbled through all the minor cords, all the confusion and chaos, something amazing began to emerge, out of all the twists and turns of the day, we were getting our trailers. The day they came off the ship they come into our hands. Someone recently challenged me on how God does all he does. I was reminded of a saying my Great grandpa used to repeat, 'a God comprehended is no God at all'. We received the trailers into our care after the dock was closed, all the offices were closed, and people were staying around to make our shipment release happen. It’s a miracle people. You may have wondered were the post was last night. Well, we never stopped working all night long. The symphony had a crescendo that landed with me and Robinson at the police station at midnight with them having confiscated the license plate of the Toyota over a parking issue on the street while we unloaded the larger trailer. I was out of my mind with disgust. When you have been in Haiti for ten years and witnessed the kind of parking violations I have that have lasted years, yes, I mean years, take for instance a broken down car parked in front of Rob’s house for years with dogs dying under it. I was ready to give them a piece of my mind. But grace prevailed and I waited for an hour in the Toyota while Rob worked with the police inside the station. I had given him $100 to pay them off, when he finally came out and told me what went down, I was ashamed of myself. His gracious and truthful demeanor along with telling them of the day and his work, ended up with him with his license plate back for free. As he was leaving he said to them all, I am Pastor Robinson Louis and I want to thank you for your good service in the town. Eyes bugged and arms flew up, and shame stormed through the room. They exclaimed to him he should have told them he was a pastor. He said there was no reason to do that, that he was human and was capable of mistakes. They were astounded by his response and told him they were sorry. I think this will be news in town today. It was humor laced with incredible grace. It was a reminder how God takes the chaos and confusion of our often sorry decisions and renders them into a stunning symphony of angelic proportions. As I stood in the darkness at around 12:45 am this morning at the new church property with the new trailer parked on it, I looked up at the star studded sky and couldn’t help but wonder at the accomplishment of the day in spite of everything that had gone wrong, much more had gone right. I won’t lie, I’m exhausted today, at the end of the busiest last day in Haiti ever, but it’s a good feeling. A couple days and we’ll all be fine. It’s been another great trip. Blessings from between St. Marc and home.