Frozen

I am currently on a plane part way between Miami and Chicago. Our trip is quickly coming to a close. We finished out our last full day in Haiti well last night although I must admit that it turned out differently than I had planned. We all crawled out of our bug tents, got ready for the day, ate breakfast, cleaned up the mission house and got to the orphanage by 9:30. The kids had made sure to inform me that they wanted us to come early in the morning so we could have lots of time together. Everyone had known that it was birthday party day. It is something we've been doing for at least a couple of years now. Our best laid intentions of spending the day playing were vetoed by said party though. The whole place, children included were happily running around cleaning and cooking. You could feel the buzz of excitement vibrating throughout the entire household. Instead of the nice and calm day we had been expecting, we all quickly got sucked into the vortex of preparations for home, preparations for the party, unexpected and last minute tasks and all while trying to handle the idea of leaving. Dad, Lee and Pat spent a great deal of the day working hard to get the trailer off of the docks. Deloris and Mom were busy and hard at work organizing the storage room, taking inventory, passing out the rest of the goods we had brought in the suitcases, as well as tons of other things most people are unaware have to be done on these trips. Abigail and Kelly were rocking it out helping to cook all the food with the Haitian ladies for the party. Emma, Caeli and myself spent hours in a deathly hot kitchen, pouring over 12 giant banners with each of the kids names on them. Our extremely talented Caeli had drawn their names in beautiful lettering for the children to decorate and hang on the walls for their birthday party. It backfired a bit on us this year because they ended up begging us to decorate them because they wanted them to be perfect. So we stood, bent over a table with crayons and paints, drawing everything from flowers and frogs to planets and soccer balls all over these banners. Partway through the afternoon, I could feel tensions getting high. The pressure of getting everything done, spending time with the kids, getting the trailer, not having a translator around and creating a magical party for the children was getting to many if not all of us in different ways. However, everyone pulled together the frayed ends of our emotions and plowed through. Dad and Rob got the trailers off the docks and the house became an even bigger bustle of activity as many hands started bringing every kind of good imaginable and filling nooks and crannies all over the house. The ladies worked themselves to the bone to get all these important but extremely monotonous and tiring jobs finished up. Every table surface in the house was soon filled with bowls and platters of rice, beans, chicken, goat, noodles, plantains and many other things that Abigail and Kelly helped bring to fruition. The living room and kitchen were transformed into a Frozen winter wonderland/ Avengers superhero dream land  with everyone's beautiful names acting as a rainbow wallpaper affect in the background. It all fell into place. Our party started much later than planned but the smiles on these kids faces was worth every drop of sweat and every frustration felt throughout the day as they sat listening to Dad tell them why we do these birthday parties. Because we are celebrating the day God placed them on this earth and into our lives. To celebrate how special they are, how important they are and how loved they are. Let me tell you, if you've never been in a room full of children that everyone else has written off as hopeless causes, children who have suffered more in their short lives than most, children with all the odds stacked against them, and tell them the exact opposite of those things... it is an indescribable kind of joy and heartache. We sang, they blew out the candles on their cake, opened their gifts (dolls for the girls and remote control cars for the boys), we ate dinner, passed out Coca Cola bottles for everyone, took pictures with photo booth props, played pin the tail on the donkey, played an intensely wonderful game of 'balloon keep away' with 30 balloons filling the small room and ate cake. It was truly wonderful. Rob and dad had more work to do with the trailer after that even though it was getting late. Us girls all voted to stay at the orphanage even though we didn't know when they would finish and be back to take us to the mission house. I am really grateful that we did that. Those last few hours with the kids were precious. I spent most of it sitting on the floor of the kitchen playing clapping games and talking with the kids. I am not even close to fluent in the language but the kids and I have figured out a simplistic but effective way of communicating back and forth about most things that kids want to talk about. Last nights topic of conversation was all about not wanting us to go. Dina and Otelson gave me a whole list of people they would like for me to bring next time I come. They begged for us to stay another month, another week and finally just one more day. I tried to play along, tease back and smile all while holding my overwhelming emotions at bay. Vladimir fell asleep on my lap and our oldest girl, Liline, who is trying so hard to act and feel grown at the difficult age of 14, leaned curled against me crying for over an hour. I don't even begin to know how to explain this to anyone. I love these kids as much as I can imagine loving my own children someday. They are literally pleading with me not to leave them. Begging me. What do you say to them? I still haven't figured that out. Not sure I ever will. I don't know what God's plan is yet but I was reminded strongly last evening that He is not done with me in Haiti. I don't know why He has called me to this or allowed me to be here but as I went to kiss 13 year old Dina who was sitting on the stairs, goodbye, she wrapped her arm around me, pulling me close and whispered in my ear 'Krystle, please. Everyone else can go home to Michigan but please don't leave. Stay here with me.'. Ugh. I choked back my own sobs and kept them buried deep in my heart as each of them in turn clung to me. No words. We didn't leave until close to 1am. We got back to the mission house to pack, shower and be ready to leave at 4am. The most sleep any of us got before being up again was about 30 minutes. No one seemed to care in the longer scheme of things. Our travels thus far today have been smooth and without any unforeseen difficulties. Prayers for a successful and uneventful finish to home. Also, for a smooth transition to getting back home and jumping back into life. This is something I particularly struggle with. It is never easy for me to switch back and forth. My heart longs and aches for both and it always seems to be a losing battle. 

I don't write my posts to sound beautiful, to have perfect grammar, to have profound thoughts or anything else of the kind. They are written to be raw and straight from my heart and hopefully give the tiniest glimpse of what this journey looks and feels like for those who can't be there. I want to thank each of you for reading, supporting, encouraging and praying. You are a very important part to this ministry. Blessings to all from 30,000 feet and somewhere between both of my homes. 

Krystle 

Panic

Another day down. Today was church day which means morning came earlier than our already early mornings. I have decided to tell a truth in this post... for several reasons which I hope to pull into collective thoughts as I continue writing. I have felt that because I have grown up in a Christian home, because I have a personal relationship with Jesus and because I voluntarily go on these trips, that I should just adore Sunday's and going to church while here. Here is the truth though... it is the part of the trip I dread most and is only trumped by one other thing which is leaving. Now, before anyone freaks out, let me explain myself. It is not the act of going to church that I dislike. It is everything that goes with it and piles together, making it feel completely overwhelming. Lack of sleep followed by an early morning. Trying to apply make up that keeps dripping down your face with beads of sweat. Taming manes of frizzy and partially wet hair into something presentable. Stuffing swollen feet into dress shoes. Scarfing down granola bars and cups of coffee. Riding on the back of the Toyota in dress clothes trying to remain unscathed by the dust and dirt we are surrounded by. When you finally pull up to the church gate, you have to crawl over, under, and through scores of people and children, only to be led across the platform in front of the entire congregation to the benches they have recently cleared of people for us. The service starts with singing which is always enjoyable but just a few minutes in, there is so much body heat being produced that the feeling of suffocation becomes a reality. We have a fan... but you can be guaranteed that half of the team is not getting air at any given time. The culture and way of worship is beautiful and inspiring but at the same time, completely different from what most people would be accustomed to. You don't understand one word being said for the first two hours. Your one comfort is when mothers hand you their babies or little ones come up asking to be held... it gives me a momentary sense of purpose but the extra bodies only add to the feeling of death by lack of air. Then comes the moment we have all been waiting for... the one that has left the younger half of this crowd feeling nauseated and stressed out of our minds. We are asked to come onto the platform and 'introduce' ourselves which actually means they would like to hear something personal and meaningful. I talk often about how grateful I am, but when it comes to this situation, I am beyond grateful for a translator as amazing as Claudy who makes us sound good even as we stumble through our introductions. Skip ahead a few hours and I am once again using Claudy's talents to speak with one of my best friends here in Haiti. It's been a difficult year for both of us but he has so few resources to help him and I want to be there for him in whatever way I can. I asked him a question which I have been pondering myself for some time recently. 'What do you want out of life?'. His answer was simple, direct and honest. He knows what he wants. He knows how to get it. He is extremely bright with one of the best personalities a person can be in possession of and unending amounts of talent and potential. He has to take those steps towards what he wants out of this life. His struggles and pain are real. None of these little things we find ourselves complaining about. My heart broke as he poured out his heart to me, tears quietly slipping from his eyes and down his face as he described the horror that is currently his life. I told him he is more loved than he can possibly imagine and that this is just a chapter in his story. There were lots of hugs and tears and 'I love you's' passed around and I felt a piece of my heart slip back into place. He thanked me and told me how much I mean to him but he has no idea that I was given as much help this afternoon by him. My challenge for him was to attend church on Sunday's for the month of November. I told him that even if it's uncomfortable, even if he doesn't feel anything from God, even if the whole thing seems severely uncomfortable, just to show up and be there. See what God does from there. I laughed at myself afterwards because I gave the exact advice I needed to hear. It was a stressful morning getting ready but I was ready on time. I felt like death through part of the service but I got to hold some precious kids who needed me in that moment. I had made myself practically ill over speaking in front of a crowd but I did it... and I actually spoke pretty well as did the rest of the team. I heard a great and uplifting message from my father. As the service ended, I had streams of people approach me for greetings, hugs, kisses and pictures. And you know what? I looked decent enough in my photos. It was actually a pretty fantastic morning. God blessed me in a huge way just for going through the motions this morning exactly as I later told my dear friend would happen for him. I swear God has a killer sense of humor. It was a fantastic reminder for me today that sometimes, you just keep going. You don't have to understand how or why. You don't have to be happy or feel capable. Sometimes you just put one foot in front of the other and trust in the fact that God will lead the way. I have more to share about our day but it will have to wait for another blog, as this one is already much too long! Love and blessings to all who are following this amazing journey. 

Krystle 

Taming

Another day down. Today was church day which means morning came earlier than our already early mornings. I have decided to tell a truth in this post... for several reasons which I hope to pull into collective thoughts as I continue writing. I have felt that because I have grown up in a Christian home, because I have a personal relationship with Jesus and because I voluntarily go on these trips, that I should just adore Sunday's and going to church while here. Here is the truth though... it is the part of the trip I dread most and is only trumped by one other thing which is leaving. Now, before anyone freaks out, let me explain myself. It is not the act of going to church that I dislike. It is everything that goes with it and piles together, making it feel completely overwhelming. Lack of sleep followed by an early morning. Trying to apply make up that keeps dripping down your face with beads of sweat. Taming manes of frizzy and partially wet hair into something presentable. Stuffing swollen feet into dress shoes. Scarfing down granola bars and cups of coffee. Riding on the back of the Toyota in dress clothes trying to remain unscathed by the dust and dirt we are surrounded by. When you finally pull up to the church gate, you have to crawl over, under, and through scores of people and children, only to be led across the platform in front of the entire congregation to the benches they have recently cleared of people for us. The service starts with singing which is always enjoyable but just a few minutes in, there is so much body heat being produced that the feeling of suffocation becomes a reality. We have a fan... but you can be guaranteed that half of the team is not getting air at any given time. The culture and way of worship is beautiful and inspiring but at the same time, completely different from what most people would be accustomed to. You don't understand one word being said for the first two hours. Your one comfort is when mothers hand you their babies or little ones come up asking to be held... it gives me a momentary sense of purpose but the extra bodies only add to the feeling of death by lack of air. Then comes the moment we have all been waiting for... the one that has left the younger half of this crowd feeling nauseated and stressed out of our minds. We are asked to come onto the platform and 'introduce' ourselves which actually means they would like to hear something personal and meaningful. I talk often about how grateful I am, but when it comes to this situation, I am beyond grateful for a translator as amazing as Claudy who makes us sound good even as we stumble through our introductions. Skip ahead a few hours and I am once again using Claudy's talents to speak with one of my best friends here in Haiti. It's been a difficult year for both of us but he has so few resources to help him and I want to be there for him in whatever way I can. I asked him a question which I have been pondering myself for some time recently. 'What do you want out of life?'. His answer was simple, direct and honest. He knows what he wants. He knows how to get it. He is extremely bright with one of the best personalities a person can be in possession of and unending amounts of talent and potential. He has to take those steps towards what he wants out of this life. His struggles and pain are real. None of these little things we find ourselves complaining about. My heart broke as he poured out his heart to me, tears quietly slipping from his eyes and down his face as he described the horror that is currently his life. I told him he is more loved than he can possibly imagine and that this is just a chapter in his story. There were lots of hugs and tears and 'I love you's' passed around and I felt a piece of my heart slip back into place. He thanked me and told me how much I mean to him but he has no idea that I was given as much help this afternoon by him. My challenge for him was to attend church on Sunday's for the month of November. I told him that even if it's uncomfortable, even if he doesn't feel anything from God, even if the whole thing seems severely uncomfortable, just to show up and be there. See what God does from there. I laughed at myself afterwards because I gave the exact advice I needed to hear. It was a stressful morning getting ready but I was ready on time. I felt like death through part of the service but I got to hold some precious kids who needed me in that moment. I had made myself practically ill over speaking in front of a crowd but I did it... and I actually spoke pretty well as did the rest of the team. I heard a great and uplifting message from my father. As the service ended, I had streams of people approach me for greetings, hugs, kisses and pictures. And you know what? I looked decent enough in my photos. It was actually a pretty fantastic morning. God blessed me in a huge way just for going through the motions this morning exactly as I later told my dear friend would happen for him. I swear God has a killer sense of humor. It was a fantastic reminder for me today that sometimes, you just keep going. You don't have to understand how or why. You don't have to be happy or feel capable. Sometimes you just put one foot in front of the other and trust in the fact that God will lead the way. I have more to share about our day but it will have to wait for another blog, as this one is already much too long! Love and blessings to all who are following this amazing journey. 

Krystle 

Distant

Normally Sunday in Haiti after church is over I drop into a lower gear, slow down, and begin a general shift in the homeward direction. Not that we are going home yet, but settling in with the fact that the trip is quickly coming to a close. For some reason today was radically different. First off, here in Haiti the time changed and few knew it. We’re not connected to cell towers so our phones aren’t showing a time change. But it did never the less. When we arrived at the church it was the biggest Sunday morning crowd I have ever experienced. Halfway through the singing the borrowed sound system conked out. When I announced to the church that I had a new sound system in our shipment, they clapped and cheered with joy! One of the themes of this trip for me has been patience. Watching these people deal with all kinds of crazy stuff and never get edgy is just incredible to observe all over again. Many had to sit through the service this morning, not even able to hear what I had to say, and yet they sat there, attentive, relaxed, and content. I confessed to the people in my message this morning that my American blood runs cold and slow with patience. I could fill this post tonight with all the other things we managed to pull off today, but for me the most important moment came unexpectedly. I confess I am a pusher, and I find it hard to sit still. So my connection with our orphans has been much more distant than let’s say Beth, or Krystle. As I came though the house this afternoon, Vanessa caught my eye, she and I have connected more deeply this trip, I smiled at her then paused beside her to give her a quick side hug and continue on my mission, which now I don’t even remember because as I pulled her up and bent over to give her a kiss on the forehead she folded right into my side. Normally they push away from me on their own missions to play or fulfil some task they have been given, I stopped, feeling her boney little back touching my arm, I lifted my arm and began to massage her neck and then her back and felt her muscles relax. Haiti is such a hard land, so unforgiving, so rough, I could feel the Haitian clutch upon her. In that moment nothing else mattered, she needed to feel the salve of my love, not someone else’s, mine. This trip has been more relational for me than previous trips, heaven knows how much I love these people, but I have loved Robinson most of all, and dedicated my energy and time trying to follow the God vision he has, and in turn that I have, to bring the Gospel to these people. But in this serene moment, vision was not what Vanessa needed, she needed to feel a father’s love. The tenderness of her melting into my embrace I can still feel tonight, several hours later. We shouldn’t want the chapters of the books of our lives written about what we accomplished, what we acquired, or how famous we were, but what lives we touched in being God’s hand extended. In Haiti where its President has laid out the five problems the country has: corruption, corruption, corruption, corruption, corruption, we serve out heaping platters of love, love, love, love, and love. It could be argued that love alone cannot change a country or corruption, but tonight, as I sit here pondering the day, and a beautiful little soul named Vanessa, I’m confident that the love of God alone can actually change a nation. Our text from Psalm 33:13-22 actually lays out that fact quite clearly.  So we labor on in love today, steadfast love. Tomorrow promises to be a big day, lots on the agenda, including hopefully seeing access to our goods at the dock. But tonight that still remains in second place to the larger agenda of spreading love out in thick and unreasonable measures. We have so appreciated the comments and encouragement from home. We pray we finish well. Blessings always from St. Marc.

Curtain

As the curtain drops on day 6 of this trip, my mind feels a bit like jello. I studied pretty intently today between several meetings and trips around town. Robinson and I misunderstood a financial transaction between us early this morning which took us to the ship dock to sort out. Last night I began to feel like we wouldn’t see our trailers today, and tonight as I type away, they are still on the ship. We were down and checked in on the unloading process several times, and I never saw our rig or the trailers out on the dock. Our meeting this morning was about keeping our stuff safe while they clear customs, and there is one less day I have to worry about because tonight it is safely inside the ship. The grace of finding the important things to be grateful for when the hoped for plan does not come to fruition. I’m sitting at the dining room table in the kitchen of the mission house working on this post, Robinson is laying on the tile floor next to me drifting in and out of sleep. He is sleeping on a couple sheets and a thin quilt used as padding. He sleeps in front of the door that is the access to the house. If you’re going to get to us, you will need to clear him first. It always gets to me at certain moments, this giant of a man was once a discarded orphan boy. I had to talk straight to our orphan boys this trip, a couple of them have crossed into that age where every young person comes to, and I shared with them a couple details of his early years. It changed the tenor of the conversation. Not that they are being bad boys, they are just struggling with growing into their new ages. Robinson is a very gifted and discerning individual and is and inspiration to me every time I get the opportunity to be around him. He was up all night for the long night prayer service, he came in this morning early having already been to the dock to check on the ship, we turned around and went back down to get the paperwork started on our shipment and then plowed through our days activities and he never stopped. So now my 22 hours to get here is nothing compared to his 41 hours he has been awake taking care of his own church family, managing a big project at our new property, taking care of a team of ten Americans, and handling the details of getting his family back into town from the funeral of his wife’s grandma. Did I mention he is a busy guy. And yet he never lost his cool, he sweeps along effortlessly, gracefully, and lovingly among his culture. I would like to believe a bit of him is rubbing off on me. This morning I told him I was no longer concerned if I got to have the goods off the trailers before I left. I surrendered all the details up last night and was unwilling to miss the other poignant and needed moments of this trip. I am speaking from Psalm 33 in the morning. I’m going to speak on hope. In my message I make the point that all the free goods we have by way of clothing and shoes will likely be pretty much worn out in just a few months. The country is so harsh and hard on stuff. I didn’t even work excessively today but as I washed off in the shower tonight I could not help but notice the trial of dirty water headed to the drain. The stuff we do and bring is but momentary, what will bring peace and contentment for a lifetime? I Corinthians 13:13 reminds us that faith, hope, and love remain, the greatest is love. We do our best to bring all three. This is the biggest truth we bring, the greatest good we seed, and it stands in stark contrast to everything around us, in a culture hardened by years of aggressive poverty. I’m grateful for an orphan tonight, I’m grateful grace has erased his hardness, I’m grateful our lives have intersected. It’s a profound journey to be on. And I’m glad for all those connected with us on this incredible mission! Blessings from St. Marc!

Core

Good evening, from Saint Marc. Keeping up with the days is just not going to be a thing this trip around. Too busy to write as much as I'd like. I've been able to get a lot more time with the orphans than on some of our past team trips. Especially with our older kids as Robinson's children are with Naromie in Desdunes for her grandmothers funeral. Having a couple of days without the distractions that come with little ones has been really nice for our older kids. They are all growing and changing at a rapid pace. So goes life... though I am not here with them nearly as often as I would like, time does not stop or even slow down. People come and go, things live and die, and children grow up. Sometimes, the thought of all the things I am missing in their lives, tears at the very core of my heart. Very few people understand how much they mean to me. None of these things stop the ongoing march of time though. The patience these people possess astounds me. Day in and day out they perform the same monotonous tasks just to handle the basics of life such as eating, drinking, personal hygiene and sleeping. Outside of these things, there is little for them to do. I watch as they sit for hours, not grumbling or complaining or becoming anxious about things. I am jealous of it. And I realize that we only have a couple of options. We can kick and scream and cry but time will still be holding firmly to our hand, dragging us to the finish line whether we want to go or not. It is inevitable. That leaves us with the second option, being that we can take the moments as they come, ride out the storms, find joy and contentment where we can, acceptance as it is needed and most importantly, let God work His plan through our lives. If we do that, time is still there but we are walking together towards something better than the long and winding roads we are currently journeying. Just because I am writing this out, it does not mean I know how to do this part of life very gracefully. But, I have 8 of the best teachers in this department one could possibly hope for. Their struggles have been innumerable and are not yet finished. And yet, they somehow manage to fill that house with more light and joy than I ever thought was humanly possible. Growing they are, but they still embody the same beautiful souls I have known since they were tiny. God has plans for these kids, just like He has for each of us he has placed on this earth. 

As for other happenings, play time with the orphans is always a highlight for everyone. Games, toys and movies unending. Lee, Emma and I got a special opportunity that doesn't usually happen on team trips. The other 7 team members left for Desdunes while the three of us stayed behind to watch the kids. Emma and I immediately got drawn into a very intense and sweaty game of street hockey with two shoes as the goals. It was the two American girls against the boys and with all of the laughter that was ringing through the house, I'd say we provided them with quite the show! It ended when Emma spotted a very large spider which the boys were kind enough to beat to death. They then proceeded to chase her through the house with the corpse of said arachnid on the end of their hockey stick. We decorated every inch of concrete in the courtyard with chalk drawings, ate lots of snacks, colored pictures and just hung out and enjoyed being together. All of the girls are fantastic at making meal time happen but Emma has been my girl for four years now and we decided to tackle our favorite meal (that is me being sarcastic since this meal usually ends with us in tears on the balcony... ha!), ham, potatoes and corn. If you've never stood over a propane cook stove with a hose the spontaneously catches fire, sweat dripping, literally dripping from your face onto the pan below, frying 12 gelatinous masses of mystery 'ham' that leaves a film of grease over your whole body, you have not experienced true joy. As I stated before, this meal has never failed to bring us to tears at some point and time in the cooking process... and the fall trip of 2017 was no different. And yet, it is our favorite meal to make for reasons unknown. It might be Krystle and Emma's one true purpose on these trips... cooking the ham which happens to be the Haitians favorite food we bring. It was a successful day! 

Lots more games and fun today. Rob worked hard to arrange for a large amount of our students to come to his house to write thank you notes, gather updated info and have their picture taken to be sent to sponsors for this coming school year. It has been nice to do it in a smaller and less overwhelming version, especially for the kids. Everyone has been doing an amazing job with it but I must send a shoutout to Caeli who has been rocking it out in school department. Whenever a new child shows up, she is the first to jump up and help them, often times leaving her food sitting so she can help. She has taken beautiful pictures of each of them, working hard to make sure the children are happy with their photo and feel special. Hopefully, we will still be able to finish with the majority of them before leaving. Tonight is sleepover night. The orphans always ask to come spend the night at the mission house with us and this year we were able to make it happen. We gathered snacks, glow sticks, movies, blankets, 8 children and we piled everyone and everything into the Toyota. We ended the evening with a showing of Wonder Woman. Half an hour into the movie, 5 of the 8 were fast asleep. Abigail was sharing her lap with sweet Bigodson. Caeli made room for Otelson on her folding chair who fell asleep sitting up. Iftha was using Emma as a bed and I had Vanessa and Liline using my legs as pillows, their arms wrapped all around me. We were all sweating and sore from sitting on the concrete but couldn't bring ourselves to move and wake up our sleeping angels. When it was time, the oldest boys made their beds on the half balcony with Kelly and the four girls slept on the porch with the four of us girls. It was a beautiful and tangled mess of sheets, blankets and children everywhere. I can't sleep, so I am sitting in the dark surrounded by gentle breathing and what I pray are peaceful dreams. My heart is full tonight. Haiti is great and terrible all at once and it gives one this feeling of sad happiness. Happy to be here, happy to see God work but sad that things are this way and people can hurt so badly. However, tonight, I choose to be grateful. I am abundantly grateful for all of it. The great and the terrible all at once. Goodnight, from a little house in the middle of St. Marc, Haiti. 

Krystle

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!