Thank you

Reality. Another land. Another country. Another home. Another family.

It was sobering to drive back to Hudson on garbage-free, clean, smooth (for the most part) highways. Humbling to enter my safe and friendly neighbourhood. Comforting to open the door and step into a sturdy home with four walls and the people I love. I turned on the light to my bedroom and I was aware of the incredible wealth I'd been given. I wondered where Kiki would be staying tonight, or the little girl from “Up the Hill”. What did their room look like? Did they even have a bed? Were they safe?

Before leaving for the trip. 347 Beanie Babies. 300 Bibles.
288 Toothbrushes. Lots of Love :)

Eight months ago, the Lord laid it on me to gather Beanie Babies and Bibles together and use it to share the gospel with children, someday. I'd read the book “Five Hard Things” and enlisted it under “Something you can't do on your own”. I would need other people's help for this idea to happen.

A month later, I was given opportunity – a possible trip to Haiti. It would be perfect. So with the prompting I'd had from above, I wrote up a blurb and the church of believers came through to help.

I owe a huge thanks to Jackie Mackinnon, Dani Marsh, Mari Covell, David Hunter, Jon Kaiser, Rufus Peacock, Sally Sikora, Sarah and Amanda Macy, Kathy Tanner, The Kroghs, Marita Smith, The Glioris, Rebekah Mier, Sally and Pricilla Dickenson, Katie Benson, Uncle Tom and Aunt Carol Kerr, Mary-Jane Macafee, Jenny Hayhoe, Drew Osborn, Human's Love, my own dear family and many many others for their support and prayers. And I owe my all to my Lord and Savior, Jesus Christ who made this trip possible and sent me on this adventure.

Every step of the way, God taught me to trust Him. He was teaching me that when He has a task for me to do, He will make it happen in His timing and in His way – A way that will bring incredible glory to Him.From the preparations of the trip, to the adventure getting to Haiti, to the very dependence on God for physical strength while in Haiti, the Lord always came through.

And when you give what Christ has given you from material things to ideas to the very love He's shown us - “The administration of this service not only supplieth the lack of the saints but is abounding also by many Thanksgivings to God: Whiles by the proof of this ministry they glorify God for the obedience of your confession unto the gospel of Christ, and for your liberal distribution unto them and unto all men...Thanks be unto God for His unspeakable gift.” 2 Corinthians 9:12-13, 15.

His Handiwork Seen

The moon was still high in the sky and the tiny white stars were fading, as Sarah, Steph and I made out way down the hotel steps and out into the parking lot. An outline of 11 people could be dimly seen, towels in hand, and eyes still half shut from just tumbling out of bed. But it was the anticipation of the adventure at hand, that was the driving force behind our feet hitting the floor and carrying us outside at 6am.

It was the first time we'd seen barren roads in Haiti, as the two Hertz vehicles sped through the sleeping townships that morning. There were no braying donkeys or playing children – no women walking with baskets on their heads, or men speeding on motorcycles. We had only heard one rooster crowing, announcing the arrival of a new day. The day of our departure.

We arrived at the hotel of our AM destination, drove through the open gates and parked in the courtyard. Following Al through the front doors and out the back of the building, I caught a glimpse of our anticipated destination.

The light blue water stretched out towards the horizon, reflecting the hues of pink and light purple from the morning sky. There wasn't a wave or a lull, but calm water – distant mountains to the far left and but water reaching towards the horizon on the right. This was the Caribbean.

I dipped my toes in the bath water and immediately sunk the rest of the way in. Lying on my back, I looked up at the sky, coloured in the morning light and decorated with white and pink wisps of clouds around the disappearing stars. A delicate slice of moon hung directly above us, as we floated in the salty, warm waters of the Caribbean, our faces towards heaven.

And I remember thinking that this was one of the best moments of this trip - A moment when I was clearly reminded -“The heavens declare the glory of God and the firmament sheweth his handiwork...when I consider thy heavens, the work of thy fingers, the moon and the stars, which thou hast ordained: What is man that thou art mindful of him?” Psalm 19:1, Psalm 8:3-4. We had seen so much brokenness in the past week and witnessed chaos of desperation. We had been surrounded in poverty, people who were hungry for food and exhausted beyond their own physical strength. The land had been stripped of the majority of it's trees and farmers were few to none, to bear fruit with the land. Towns were drowning in their own waste and garbage – made filthy by men themselves. But here in a land that had been plagued with poverty and destruction, God's beauty could still be seen. Men couldn't wipe out the reflection of the morning colours on the Caribbean waters. They couldn't take away the mountains that stood out under the fading stars, or remove the moon reflecting the glory of the sun. His handiwork still abounded in the land and the waters he had formed, and increasingly so in the beautiful sky He painted with each new day. So I ask, what is man that you are mindful of Him? And when I hear Him answer, I am awed all over again. Wow, how God loves us!

Individuals

Many had started out at around 1am that morning, and had hike three hours to the church, arriving before dawn, at the church. Having seen no Doctor for the past five years, and with no nearby schools, no education or hospitals, the Haitian people were eager and willing to wait all day. Yet when our rentals pulled up to the church, I still couldn't believe the mass of people that crowded the small yard- mothers, babies, children, youth, grandparents. And I knew there was only about medication left for 60 of them. There were sisters from the church cooking rice out front under a large palm tree in a big pot, and someone had set up a big tarp to protect the people from the heat of the sun.

The med station we set up inside

The people crowded our white vehicle and we had to push a path through them just to get the medications and doctor into the little church building. I wanted to stop for each one of them and try to help as many as possible, but I knew if I paused in stride, they would quickly come up and start asking for things. We kept looking ahead and begin to set up our last clinical day.

In the one small room, we made a doctors corner, a medical station and lastl,y a give-away station towards the back door. This contained more Bibles, Beanie Babies, toothbrushes, toothpaste, headscarves, fisbees, soccer jerseys, bandanas and candy. All for which they were ready to break down the front door.

The heat in the room was near suffocating, but there wasn't a window in the room to crack open and we had to try out best to keep the people outside the building. “Honestly”, Sarah said, “if I were a mother with a really sick child and this was my one chance to see a doctor, I would push my way to the front also.” It was so true. Yet, if you let one more come through the door, you'd soon have a crowd that you couldn't control. An older man was let inside to lie on a dirty blanket on the floor. He had a wound that stuck out, the size of an apple on his side. Tiny babies were brought to us, burning with fever or with pain the their abdomen. Some of their faces were turned in terror as they looked into the faces of “white people” for the first time, and they begin to cry.

With so many medications down from our initial clinic, we felt as if there was a minimal amount that we could actually do. The people crowded around the building, poking their heads in every window, watching us with intent and getting more aroused as they saw the med table start to deplete. The voices got louder and the room got hotter. Come lunch time, I'd drunk almost my own entire ration of water for the day, and we had served about 70 people. It looked as if that would be our capacity for the day...there just weren't any more useful medications left over.

We still had a lot of other give-aways at the front, and wanted to send families in at a time, so they could still receive gifts. However, the anticipation that some might not get something and that our supply was dwindling sent the Haitians attempting to push through the front door. Galilee, the head guy of YFC, had to forcefully push them back, while yelling at them in Creole. The front door of the little church shut and he put up his hands. That would be it. There was no more we could do.

A few of us were still determined to get the rest of our stuff handed out. We packed what was left in two big hockey bags, pushed our way out the little church and to the rentals, having to ignore the calls for toothbrushes and “poupees” and loaded back into the white rental vehicles. People crowded the sides of the rental and we had to roll up the windows, so they wouldn't stick their hands inside.

On the way up the mountain, it was often that we saw children playing in the dirt or roads by the little places where they lived, or people walking down the road. We were going to reach as many as we could. As we drove out of sight of the church, we created a system. With Jonathan handing us Beanie Babies, lollipops and toothbrushes from the trunk (quite the combination), Sarah, Dorothy, Steph and I rolled down our windows either side and as we begin our decent, we begin to watch for the children so we could hand out the gits.

It was priceless. The look on these childrens faces when we slowed the vehicle and handed them the items. The dances they did in the middle of the road. One little boy was stark naked and started jumping up and down, clutching the bear to his chest and ran back towards the little shack by the side of the road to tell his family. We tossed a soccer ball at a group of teenage boys and they laughed and dove towards it, ready to begin a soccer game straight away.

All the way to town, we gave to the people we saw out the window. I was reminded of the verse Humnan's Love has put on their toothbrushes. “And the multitude of them that believed were of one heart and of one soul: neither said any of them that ought of things which he possessed was his own; but they had all things in common. And with great power gave the apostles witness of the resurrection of the Lord Jesus: and great grace was upon them all. Neither was there any among them that lacked: for as many as were possessors of lands or houses sold them, and brought the prices of the things that were sold, And laid them at the apostles feet: and distribution was made unto every man according as he had need.” Acts 4:32-35. I'm seeing that the amount I've been given by the Lord is incredible and I'm so undeserving of it. Everything I've been given by God is still His to do as He pleases, and what greater joy is made when it's given to those who really have a need. It was one of the highlights of the trips to see the difference that it made in the day of an individual. Yet greater so, I was praying and hoping on passing forth the message of the eternal gift.

When I had given the Bibles to the children, there had been some hesitancy as to whether the kids would really value it as much as the adults, and some doubt as to whether they could all yet read. I'd thought about what to do and the verse came to me “So shall my word be that goeth forth out of my mouth: it shall not return unto me void, but it shall accomplish that which I please, and it shall prosper in the things whereto I sent it.” Isaiah 55:11. I'd really felt the Lord leading me to go forward with the project he'd given me, so I'd given the Beanie Babies and Bibles to the kids, praying they would value it and read it...and if not them, their families.

When we got back to the YFC base after lunch, encouraging the work being finished by those who hadn't gone “up the hill”, I was really exhausted and moved past the children to the upstairs balcony overlooking the community. Perched on the railing, I looked over the broken town that was just barely holding together, and I thought of the children.

In the alleyway to the right of YFC, my eye caught site of one of the girls who had been at the daycamp on Saturday when we'd shared the gospel and handed out the Bibles and Beanie Babies. She was perched on the sill of her window, with her Bible lying open, her face intent towards the pages. In the midst of the crumbling and dirty cement walls, surrounded by a broken concrete porch and littered in garbage, it was something beautiful.

An older girl stepped forward from the house and turned to look at me from where I was perched on the second floor balcony. I recognized her as a vendor right near the base.

“Bible?” She pointed towards the Bible the girl was reading and then back at me. Then she pointed to herself. I remembered I'd had one box left and quickly left my spot on the railing.

Asking Sarah, and then Mark, to come with me, we ventured outside the metal gate of the base and down the road towards her stand. She was back and waiting for costumers, when she looked up and saw us coming. I had partly hid it in the large pocket in my scrubs; any extra items that were seen given out, immediately attracted groups to crowds of people. As we approached her, I pulled it out and handed it to her. A smile broke her face and she eagerly took it, pressing her lips to the front cover. Laying her hand over mine, she eagerly thanked me, and we headed back to the centre...the mission for the individual accomplished.

Jesus did speak to crowds, preaching, telling parables and performing miracles – proving that He was really the Son of God. Yet, so many times he went out of his way to touch the lives of individuals. Here is where we read of changed hearts, transformed lives and of souls delivered to him.

A little girl that just wanted to be held.

I love running around with crowds of children in a game of “tag”, playing soccer in a dusty and rocky yard and telling His story to a group of eager-eyed children, but even more so, I love holding the little girl with teary eyes, made an orphan from Haiti's earthquake. I love watching the face of one boy light up when he, alone out of curiosity followed a group of strangers into a field and in turn was included in all the group pictures and given the gift of God's word. I love leaving the walls of the YFC base to walk down the road and hand one single Bible to the women who wanted nothing more. It's the individuals that I look out for, and maybe it's because when they look at me with those eyes that have endured so much, when they put their hand on mine, or when I see them do the little dance in the middle of the road, they in turn, touch my own heart. And once more, I'm reminded of God's huge and loving heart towards others. Again, I feel His crazy and undeserving love towards me - How when I was nothing, He chose me and gave me such blessing. So who am I not to share it?

Finally done the project! Haiti 2012!

As the last metal roof pieces were being placed on the outdoor church/school, rain began to fall from the sky – coming down in torrents. Maybe be that was Haiti's goodbye on our last day. We were done our work, soaked to the bone and incredibly happy. The sky can rain all it wants, but when you're doing God's work and looking towards him, nothing can move your spirit.

Jumping in the Rain

“God has not given us the spirit of fear, but of power, and of love, and of a sound mind. Be not thou therefore ashamed of the testimony of our Lord...but be thou partakers of the afflictions of the gospel according to the power of God.” 2 Timothy 1:7-8

Smiles

August. 6

There was no bananas at breakfast. I really had to depend on the Lord for strength during the day.

The paint had awful fumes so we wore masks.

The YFC runs a daycamp from Monday through Thursday, so all the children were at the base this morning. However, this time there was a lady there to actually run the program. The rest of us focused on getting our construction part of Haiti project completed. We finished painting the interior walls of the compound in “marine blue”, and we had just enough paint. Al had emptied out five different stores of their paint so we could colour these walls. It was 10x worse than stucco painting. The walls were uneven and rocky, so you had to go over most of the rolled areas with a paint brush to jab blue into the cracks. Often times the kids would just stand behind us, watching us roll the bright blue onto the walls.

The construction on the outdoor church/school is going really well. The structure itself is being re-inforced by wood and cement and Ben Heron created the measurements to make benches and tables. The benches were finished today (after running out of batteries for the drill, part way through, and having to screw the rest by hand), and the roof and tables will hopefully be completed tomorrow.

Propre?

We had quite the official giving of Human's Love toothbrushes today. Sue and I set up a table on the front porch, with mini cups of water and tubes of toothpaste. I had them all come over and I explained the importance of brushing (basic-wise, not scientific...molecular-level-wise). Then I even did a demonstration (wherein they all enjoyed me making a run for the dirt so I could spit somewhere other than the front porch). We then handed the toothbrushes out with a little toothpaste on each and had them all brush their teeth together. They were walking around afterwards with big grins and showing me their teeth. “Propre?” (clean?), they kept on asking. “Very!” :)

Today was my last day to see the YFC and community kids around the base today because tomorrow the medical team is going “Up the hill”. Whenever the YFC kids leave, the community kids are always right at the gate and waiting...hoping they will be let in so they can play with us. Normally, they wouldn't be allowed in and adults are quick to shoo them away, but since we are there and can spend time with them, one of the YFC leaders will often just let them come through the gate.

Steph and Kiki

One teenage guy named “Kiki” has really had a big impression on some of the team. The first time he ever saw us, he came dancing right over with a huge grin and put his arm around each of us. One of his hands hung limp and near his chest and he walked with an uneven step. He was probably the community's special needs, and the kids would sometimes make fun of him, yet he was the first to come help with carrying any of our belongings and it was rare you saw him without the biggest smile across his face. Yet you could see there were times he would get upset with his hand, like if we were playing a ball game and it hindered his performance, so for lack of better thing to do he would bite at it in frustration. One pat on the back or smile of encouragement and he would look up with a huge grin showing a front row of straight and white teeth that said everything was just fine. He never fought or pushed ahead. He was just himself and he loved the others around him. I wonder about Kiki's hope and future.

A little mash-it-up with the supper tonight. The rice was dark dark brown, I was worried they'd been holding out on the manure and loaded it in tonight. However, it turned out to be some sort of barbeque twist. Fancy. Oh, Chicken and potato fries. Need I even say it. Brothers, please have the fridge loaded with fruits and veggies when I return.

"Up the Hill"

View from the church

When I was told that church was “Up the hill”, I wasn't informed that off-roading was among the Sunday morning activities. This 30 minute drive up the hill, was some of the most bumping, rocking, narrow, steep, rutty ride I'd ridden in my life (and being the sister of two brothers who own a Rubicon Jeep...I've had some pretty wild sessions). Seriously, I wondered if Alan and Jordan would have even allowed Ruby traverse the “roads” we took. The little church “Up the hill” was actually up the steep, mountainous, rocky and rut-filled path – wherein we were dodging men and women, children and donkeys and people on bikes. It was sometimes so narrow that we were up two wheels on a massive rock and down two wheels on some sandy path. We were turning sharp corners and down-shifting up these rocky inclines around blind corners, shared with many morninAdd captiong pedestrians. I've never had such an exciting ride to church. At times, all I saw through the front window was the sky – that's how high the front of the rental was inclining. I don't know how we made it, exactly, but we did.

Church friends and family

The moment we climbed out, we were greeted by the most enthusiastic group of brothers and sisters who wanted to give up all of their seats for us. We squeezed in the back of the little building, perched on a mountain. Strung between to strings were decorations of neatly woven toilet paper with cardboard cuttings of shapes hanging from them. Some were even in the shape of wine glasses. There were more people packed inside than at my own assembly. All the women wore hats on their heads, and those who didn't have one wore dishcloths or towels. (I made a mental note to send headscarves back to Haiti...and Susan even gave her mantilla to a very grateful and sweet teenage girl who had been using a dishcloth).

I've never seen attendance taken in church, but apparently each person is very valued and accounted first in their church. Calling out names and response time took up the first 15 minutes.

Then came an enthusiasm like I've never seen before. Everybody was on their feet, lifting hands, repeating “amens” and “hallelujahs” after the main pastor had said a few words. When one man prayed up front, everyone would begin their own personal prayer out loud. There were no glances around the room at the white people, no drawing back or distractions from what they were there for. There were only hearts and minds devoted to the One they lived and depended on. There was no mistaking the gratefulness and reality in their praise...and their voices were beautiful. Nobody had hymnbooks, but they all knew the hymns and the separate parts. The first hour was like this incredible hymnsing and so touching.

These people have such a spiritual wealth in their life. They look forward to worshipping the Lord on Sunday because they want to thank Him for everything they have – a place to sleep, food to eat and family to love . They can't wait to go to church and learn from the Bible – a book that is so precious and so rare for everyone to have, yet they seek with all their hearts and minds.Their faces radiate contentedness and absolute gratefulness.

I feel sorry for us. Us who are so blinded by material wealth that we stop looking to the Savior for guidance. Us who start to depend on our own power and miss out on experiencing the incredible power of the spirit. Us, who feel we don't have time for Sunday because we have “too much to do”, and we miss out on worshipping the One that marks the reason of our very existence. Our minds stray, our hearts follow, our gratefulness drains and our joy and contentedness soon abandon. Yet, we have every other material wealth we could want.

We try to fill churches by bringing in more entertainment of bands and video clips. These Haitians fill every inch of their tiny cement building with enthusiastic people whose music is of their lips and the clapping of their hands. We water down the word and project it on screens. These Haitians go to church so they can fill a craving they have for the true Word of God which is so rare and valuable to them. We have minds that wander at church and we get restless with everything we have to do and everywhere we have to be. These Haitians will walk miles back and forth to church, so they can worship and give praise to the One they owe their all.

That little girl and I

I picked up a little girl in church who was standing, and turned around right in front of me. She must have been only two years old. She just looked at me with these two huge, brown eyes, put her head on my shoulder and slept. I don't know how she did it with all the standing and singing and praising. The girl I thought was her sister, turned out to be her mother and hugged me like we had been friends for a long time.

I wish I had brought way more Bibles and Beanie Babies to “up the hill”. As soon as we opened the back of the rental and begin to hand them out to the children, we were swarmed and hands were sticking out from every direction for the gifts. I hadn't anticipated the number of children there, and the parents all wanted Bibles also. We gave out everything we'd brought and told them we'd be back on Tuesday, for the medical clinic.

In the early afternoon, the first Human's Love toothbrush was given to a 12-year-old boy who walked up to us and started following our group out of curiosity. We were scouting out some land that had just been bought for a new orphanage. He was intrigued by my camera and happily joined us in on all our pictures.

First receiver of the Human's Love Toothbrush

As we were walking back to our vehicles, I hurried ahead to open the back of the pick-up. Just before we'd left, I'd grabbed a few extra toothbrushes, Beanie Babies and Bibles...just in case. I asked him if he could read and he ecclesiastically responded that he could. With bright eyes, he took the Bible with a bookmark in it, the Ostrich Beanie Baby, the toothbrush and the little tube of toothpaste I happened to have. I asked him if he knew Jesus and He responded that he did, so I encouraged him to read the Bible and share it with his family. We then headed off and I was left with the thought that the Lord didn't come to earth for the masses or the crowds, but the individual souls with whom He'd had a special appointment. It's the individuals who are precious to Him - The lone person who happens to be there at “a random time”, but clearly His appointed time.

The next remaining hours of the day were spent at an orphanage, run by an extremely kind, Christian. The boys jumped right into a game of “football” and grinned over their new soccer jerseys given by someone on the team. The girls engaged in jump rope and constantly put out their arms to be picked up and cuddled. We shared the candy we had, the dolls we brought, beads for bracelets and the love from God to each of the children.

The previous morning, Al shared with us the verse “For I know the plans I have for you, saith the Lord, plans of peace and not of evil, to give you a future and a hope.” Jer 29:11. It's a common and a nice verse which we all like, and most of us don't have a problem agreeing and applying it to our lives in a North American perspective. But what about here? Stop and think, he told us, this verse was also written to apply to the Haitians. Where is their hope? Where is their future? “For all the promises of God are yea...” 2 Corinthians 1:20. This verse was written just as much for them as it was for us. We've learned that much of their hope is a real and heavenly hope, but it overflows into a spiritual joy that seems to flood many of the believers lives.

Stanley was made an orphan by the
earthquake in Haiti and was found and
brought to live with 20 other
children at L'Arche. This adorable guy is holding
one of the Beanie Baby we gave him.

Al was right, it was a challenge to apply that verse to the little orphans around me, but God meant it for his little believers just as much as myself. One little guy asked Mark if he could go home with him and told Mark that he would take care of him. Being the nice person Mark is, he tried to explain a little about immigration laws. We can keep praying for these kids and trust the Lord for their hope and future.

Before we left, we gave them the gospel and then were able to hand out the Bibles, Beanie Buddies and Toothbrushes for each of the orphans.

At supper time, we noticed there was no aroma wafting from the plates of those who actually enjoyed this manure speciality. After noticing the rice looked a little whiter, we discovered that it was actually different and decent tonight. Great, it seems they left out the little extra something-something from the fields for one night.

With the chicken were a few extra random “ribs”, which actually happened to be goat. Man, the surprises here just don't stop.

There was an exciting rat killing near the kitchen in the evening. The rodent was discovered and trapped behind a large faded picture outside the kitchen wall. There were many hoots and hollers all around, before they squashed the squealing guy and then a hotel worker came over and finished him off by jabbing it's innards with a stick, while it was helplessly squashed and trapped. I'm watching the supper dish extra careful tomorrow night.

Depending on God

My cellphone doesn't know that Haiti isn't on board with daylight savings time, so I wondered what the pounding on my door meant this morning when my cellphone said I had 45 minutes left to sleep. Turns out, the whole team was already up and halfway through breakfast.

Everyday I learn new things, but today I felt especially dependent on God for the physical strength to just keep going, since only the hot and humid weather of the morning took effort. With the thought of 50 children joining, I felt it would be near impossible. The moments when I thought I'd be sitting down for the next 30 minutes, He'd give me a little more to pick a child up, sing a song in Creole, give someone an airplane ride, or try and keep up the their jump-rope games. It's actually pretty cool the way God intercedes when you ask Him, when you have need and when it's His work.

They loved Jump-rope!

There's usually a kids program that's run at the YFC base every Saturday. The children had all showed up and we're sitting in chairs on the right side of the cement building. At about 9am, nobody had arrived yet to give the kids their morning program. Steph and our team were only scheduled for later in the morning, but we decided we might as well run the full program.

This started off in singing Creole and French songs (which involves lots of clapping and stomping and sometimes a small dance move – in which “les blancs” do not excel). Next, we moved into dividing the kids into four teams of about nine and doing relay races. You haven't heard much “team spirit” until you get with a group of Haitian children. It'a all about fist pumping and jumping and yelling the loudest. Steph did well when she chose her whistle from Sport's Experts, rather than from the dollar store. They wouldn't have heard the dollar store whistle.

Finally we sat them all down together and I presented in Evangicube in French, while Steph cued me along in turning the cube to each new face. It's a puzzle cube with pictures that goes through the gospel, and I have to say the challenge for me lay majorly in the language. I'd read earlier in the week “God's word will not return unto me void” and that was my comfort as I presented The story in a tongue other than mine.

I was surprised and happy at how well they listened and there eyes got big when the cube flipped around to form another picture. To this point, I know it was God that was really talking the story through me (the night before I had practised with Steph and ended up saying in French “Jesus died for God”...woops. I just knew anything coming from my mouth in this message to come would need to be spirit given).

Right before I prayed with the children, I told them it wasn't merely words to say, but that God was looking for a real faith from the heart. I told them I would pray and they could pray along in their hearts if they wanted. Unexpectedly, they all bowed their heads, folded their hands and prayed out loud. repeating the words right after me. I know some of them had heard the story before; maybe they had even prayed before. Maybe they were used to repeating prayers and verses. God knows the hearts and I've been promised that “His word does not return void”.

Beanie Babies and Bibles :)

Sarah Heron and I took two kids at once into a room in the YFC house, and gave them each a Bible with a Beanie Baby. We printed their names on the inside, asked if they'd understood the message and accepted Jesus, and encouraged them to talk to the Lord and read the Bible. Many of them confessed to have accepted Him. Whether it was that day, or beforehand, God only knows.

Jonathan helping a young girl read her new Bible

While taking a break on the upstairs balcony, I glanced over the railing to see kids sitting around with their Bibles and Beanie Babies. Mark and Jonathan each had the Bible open with some of the children and were pointing out passages. Later on, two more children came in from the community and asked for Bibles. It seemed they were even more valuable to them than I would have thought.

I've learned the most favoured Beanie Babies among the children were the ones with lots of colours. Anything that has color in it, the kids seem to love. When Steph and I brought out beads to make bracelets, the colorful, round plastic beads attracted the whole yard of girls and boys and it turned into a scrambling match to get around a table built for eight. We had to usher everything out right away and come back with control and instruction so our “peaceful and relaxing beading session with the girls” could go smoothly with the yard of 40 kids.

Eight minutes later they were all done their bracelets and we blitzed to fit and tie each ones to their wrist. I was happy they were happy. I was also happy that the “peaceful and relaxing beading session with the girls” was over.

Al Heron gave Steph and I a little break – taking us in the “fish bowl” (the rental car where we drove by lots of people who all stared back in the windows and would call out “les blancs! Les blancs!”), to the local grocery store. All the food was imported, the same or more costly than back home, and guarded by a man with a machine gun. I wasn't going to try any funny business in the cereal or candy aisles.

It's sad that the food is so expensive when the income is so minimal. Most people couldn't afford the items in the grocery store and many families eat mainly rice and beans for meals. There are no more local farmers since they all moved to the city for work – meaning no local food or exports. The country would be beautiful if it weren't for all the trees they cut down for money. Now it's sitting in dirt with garbage piles everywhere.

Row boat near the shore

We took the rental through a gravel bumpy lot near the shore, and if you crossed out the garbage dump from the left corner of your eye, the view was actually beautiful. The water is so calm and blue and the mountains make a gorgeous landscape. A old row boat sat in the water a few feet out, making a picture perfect post-card...if only they sold those here.

Back at the YFC base, we had another meal of PB&J and “Spam” for all those Spam lovers. I'm glad I brought my fruit leathers, and am constantly snatching them from my bag. At this point, I'm pretty well convincing myself that they're actually fruit.

As soon as the camp kids left, the community kids from all the back alleyways were just waiting eagerly at the gate to be let in. I was at work, painting a cement wall, and seeing we were all working, the 8-10 year-old boys brought their machetes and begin hacking away at the weed-infested dirt yard, 3 feet behind me. Galilee, YFC manager, seemed relatively unconcerned, so I shrugged and continued working.

Once they had hacked the whole lawn, they wanted more to do so they picked up the extra rollers and paint brushes and started diligently going over everything we'd already painted. As much as we enjoyed the extra company and chaos under our elbows in the sweltering heat and paint fumes, we got Mark to divert them to the other side of the yard with a game of “football”.

Can you tell why I love these kids?

By the days end, we had painted 90% of the cement walls around the YFC base and the men had constructed a bunch of wooden benches for the outdoor school/church.

The first thing we do when we arrive back at the hotel every evening, is grab our swimsuits and jump in the pool. And I've noticed that everyday, there is less and less water in the pool. I'm sure half of it was displaced by us during out excitement of water during the first evening we were here, the other half mainly evaporates into thin air.

Day one, we were jumping about and playing water polo - throwing around the ball like mad travellers and clearly, having the time of our lives. Day two, we were slightly stumbling into the pool with a little less vigour, and swam around at half the strength – our main activity being could hold their breath under water the longest. Day three, almost all of us had a float device under our backs and lay in the water like bellied-up fish.

There's not a whole lot you can be certain of at this hotel. Many times, the power will suddenly go off, the DJ music shuts down and suddenly you can hear eachother at the dinner table. It's almost awkward because all of a sudden we realize we can hear ourselves plus others talking and the table goes quiet for a minute. Then the lights and sound go back on and the dinner conversation returns. The internet is constantly wavering, but mostly off. Our bathroom light is an orange-red for lack of normal white light, So every time we enter the bathroom, we can't help but start because it looks like something from a horror movie. You almost expect to find a body when you pull back the curtain.

Yet there is one thing you can depend on – what you're having for supper. Surprise! Chicken, manure-aroma rice and potato fries. (My box of granola bars and fruit leathers are thinning). I couldn't even order more from the internet because the connection is the turtle's grandfather, and even if I did, the post service would hold it in a warehouse for a couple days and probably confiscate it before it got to me. (Can you tell I've been scoping options?).

The evening ends with a round of UNO games. The Herons, by the way, make up the most interesting rules. You have to slap on 7, and the last person gets to pick up a card (always me). You can cut in if you have the same card, and if the color is red, nobody can talk. If you talk, you get the amount of cards for the words you say. It ends up being this huge “gesturing” conversation where someone gets real frustration and starts to mouth words and toss their hands around. A coke bottle gets spilled and chairs get overturned, more cards get tossed around and all the while, the cook is staring from the outdoor kitchen at this mad group of dumb people who are waving and jumping and gesturing in the late night...not making a sound. Welcome to the Heron clan.

Clinical Day 1

At 6:30am we woke to the hymn-singing alarm and pulled on yesterday's clothes (seeing we still didn't have our bags). I double checked my backpack and made sure it still contained the fruit and walnut salad I'd bought from Macdonalds with my airport voucher. Word had it that spaggetti was sometimes served for breakfast, and I wasn't positive I'd be down for that in the AM.

Breakfast time

As we sat down to eat at the long skinny table (so narrow that one plane could not directly fit in front of the other, but they were all diagonally placed from eachother) I couldn't help but notice the hotel worker who sat down nearby with a hearty plate of morning spaghetti noodles. It was a pleasant surprise when the arrived with a dish of white toast, eggs and bananas. I tried not to be extremely conspicuous...but I pretty well dove for the bananas. It's really the only fruit we're permitted to eat here, since we peel it ourselves. Besides that, I had my fruit & walnut Macdonald salad that had had some extra baking time in my bag, on the two hour trip from Port-au-Prince. The apple slices were not ashamed to reveal such truth. I ate them anyway. A Weeks without an apple for a week, is sad one. Alan wouldn't survive.

When we arrived at the YFC base, there were already over 100 patients waiting outside to see the doctor. It wasn't even 8am and they had been told that the doctor wouldn't arrive until 9am. That didn't matter to them; they would wait all day if they needed to. While they waited, a man stood in front and gave them the gospel.

The cabinet we used to organize our meds

In the meantime, Steph and I begin making the best set up with what we had. There were two back rooms with doors that closed, a main room and an entry way. In the small back room to the right, we placed two chairs. This would be the doctors room, where she would see the patient. In the other room, there were counters, a cabinet and a sink. With Sarah and Jon's help, we begin unpacking all the medications and categorizing them by classifications – antibiodics, cardio, anti-inflammatories, respiratory meds. I was slightly beginning to realize the desperate need in everything, and the fact that it was up to us to make do with what we had.

In the main room, we placed chairs for a few patients to be ushered in from outside, right before they would see the doctor.

There was no way Steph and I were doing assessments with our lack of Stethoscopes and BP cuffs (all with our lost baggage), so we decided with the doctor, Suzy, that we would retrieve the patient's drugs when they came to us with their prescription. We had no clue what a job this would actually be...

Steph and I both sat in on Suzy's first assessment. It was a young boy with red and yellow around his big eyes – perhaps a topical infection from an allergy. He also complained of abdominal pain. Worms. When we ushered him into the med room to give him his meds (after trying to decipher the doctors handwriting), we came upon our first delema We had no plastic bags. We couldn't send each person away with full bottles of meds.

The medicine counter where Steph, Sarah, Jonathan and I
worked to give medications to each patient.

The next 15 minutes were hectic. The patients started coming faster than we could dole out the medications. We quickly set up chairs in the hall and had them wait outside the med room, while we made containers out of paper, ripped out of my notebook. We started getting team members on the outside construction to fold boats out of the looseleaf, so we could drop the meds inside and write the dose on the outside – finalizing it with a piece of medical tape so the pills didn't drop out.

I was losing my cool pretty quickly. I was unfamiliar with half the med names and we started trying to hurry the process by dumping med bottles out of their cardboard boxes and pouring pills in them. I'm pretty sure we all started praying out loud. Our minds were spinning. We had a horrible time reading the doctors writing and kept on having to interrupt her sessions to ask questions, and we were trying to keep things as clean as possible, but do the fastest job as possible. And just when I wasn't sure if I could take it anymore...God stepped in.

Al and another man from the mission arrived with these perfect little plastic bags. They were even meant for medication and had a spot to fill in what med, the dose and the time you took it. It was better than we could have asked for. Slowly, a system was created and by 10:30pm, Al came in to say “good job” and “you have seen 23 patients out of 100.”

It wasn't long in the day before that turned to 150. From where we worked in the med room, we could hear the people singing outside as they waited, we could hear the children playing in the yard – popping their heads up at the window every now and again to call our names. We tried to maximize the air coming from the one fan in the room, without having it blow away the medication sheets - And things settled into a good routine.

We begin working quickly and together – Steph, Sarah, Dorothy and I pouring the meds and Jonathan would take them to the waiting patients and explain how to take them. Reading, retrieving, pouring, labelling, giving. We kept moving to keep the waiting patients down stopping at lunch, two at a time for 10 minutes each, to enjoy some peanut butter and jelly on white buns, pop and chips. (I really have a lot to adjust to). And I have to say, that all the while I was loving it. I loved fulfilling this immediate need and working to adjust a problem according to what was best at the moment. It was using what we had and being dependent on the Lord for the rest – and it was serving those who couldn't give back in return. I didn't feel constricted with all the legal and ethical business of the real hospitals at home.

It wasn't in the plans to run out of important medications so quickly...but we did. Benadryl, Atenolol, Ibuprofen... She begin to perscribe Tylenol instead, but we quickly ran out of that...so we doubled the dose of the children's Tyelenol. It wasn't long before that was gone also. Al drove to find some, but came back with two solution bottles – 15$ each. We gave our last and just gave what we were able.

While children were waiting, dolls and lollipops were given to them. It was the best to see the smile on their faces and their parents would tell them “dit thank you”. The smile was enough.

By 3pm, I was taking every moment I could to sit down on an overturned bucket. I must have drunk all the water I could, but seeing it was continually leaking out of my face, it only helped for a short time.

By 4pm, we had done it. Our team had served the 150 people that waited all day in the sun to see the doctor. They would have come back and waited the next day if that's what it took. That's how valuable it was to them. At times, I had taken a quick pause to walk out into the yard, they were sitting in clusters, some singing and some talking – watching their children play and waiting more patiently than any North American patients I've seen. I thought our waiting room was bad.

With so many essential medications drained, I'm not sure how we plan to make it through another clinical day. It will probably end up being more a half day, but again we will just have to do the best with what we have left-over.

When the clinic was done, we joined the party of children in the yard being chased by “les blancs”, getting piggy-backs and making us play their intense jump-rope games. I could barely jump the rope as it smacked the back of my flip-flops (and clearly, it was more often that I didn't).

Our luggage arrived right before the end of the work day – Praise the Lord :) So we headed back to the hotel to unpack. We finally had our swimsuits for the pool (not that that stopped us from going in our clothes the previous day).

If I chose any day to drown, it would have probably been this evening. I felt pretty lethargic from the days events. Some people might even say they'd eat anything after that days work, but somehow the manure-rice dish still didn't appeal to me. (It seems to be a favourite around here). Thankfully they had another option too - there was also a pasta option tonight. Fries and pasta and pop it was.

Tomorrow is another day at the YFC base. Daycamp and construction. Now. Now is sleep.

Hard to Find the Words

11pm

We are here at the hotel. I'm warding off any mosquitoes that might be carrying malaria (hence, all mosquitoes), while writing from the satisfying accommodations in Saint Marc, Haiti. It's one of the nicest looking buildings around (which is not saying a whole lot) and I am feeling quite blessed.

Thankfully, we met up with the rest of our group and to His mercies, all their bags made it through – including the medical supplies which we will need for tomorrows clinic.

Grandma rides in the back

We left an airport through a crowd of people, a couple of which followed and insisted on putting our bags in the two awaiting trucks for us...then insisted on at least 20$. Crowding in one vehicle is obviously no issue when I took a look at my surroundings. The youth pastor, Galilee, had a bus waiting for the 17 of us. We gratefully crowded in, Sarah, Steph and I all sitting on the bags in the back and holding onto the seats behind us. The back doors of the bus didn't really close, so in case of a sudden swing-open session...we didn't want to end up on the road – which by the way, lacks any sort of regulation.

There are no road lines. It's every man for himself. It's like an open playing field. If you can squeeze between two trucks, go for it. If you can fit three more men hanging off your back hitch, then do it! If grandma isn't going to fit up front with the boys, let her ride off the side of the truck. Do whatever gets your through...and make sure you honk a lot when you want to pass. You don't want to hit any oncoming cars, motorcycles, mules, people...etc. Oh, and watch out for the homemade road bumps...they can be a real shocker.

We rented three vehicles and after piling in quite snug, we were off to Saint-Marcs which is about two hours away. The sights were like none I've ever seen. All those pictures you see in national geographic or in the magazine were back in front of our eyes, except we were looking from the window of our rental.

Normal sights in Haiti

We passed fields that were lined with rows and rows of makeshift tents. Scraps of metal and cardboard to make what they called home. Children washing and playing in the dirt. Countless young people roaming the roads near what they had made their home. A girl pushing an older man across a lawn of rocks and dirt – he had no legs.

Words don't do the situation justice and I have a hard time describing the level of poverty we find ourselves in. It's like Steph said – we are like fish in a fishbowl. It certainly felt that way as we drove through town after town and as we surveyed the situation, everyone watched the “white people” pass by. I felt protected by the situation – somehow here but disconnected, surrounded and safe.

I don't blame them if they watch and think to themselves, “there they go, off to do their good deed of the year.” It must certainly seem like that. There is so so little impact we can make on their lives. This is the way it is. I'm realizing the most you could ever bring them is Christ's love and what He gives. The impact given, will be from them to us. Our lives touched even more than theirs.

After checking in at the hotel, which now is certainly a resort after all we saw, we headed downstairs for our first meal.

Being who I am, I skipped the chicken and headed for the rice and homemade potato fries. It looked like a good bet and I was ready for a meal after being in the airport for two days.

That rice...

“Do you smell that?” Steph's nose was slightly crinkling. “It kind of smells like cow.”

“No, more like manure.” I said, digging into my first bite of rice.

Sure enough, it hit me right on the palate. The rice tasted quite identical to the smell of manure when you drive through a country field. You must understand that I am not a picky eater – I even tried it once more, to make sure I wasn't overly sensitive. Nope. It wasn't my imagination. I loaded up on the potato fries and added a little chicken to the meal.

Following supper, we took a trip to the YFC (Youth For Christ) base. To get there, we drove through these dirt back alleyways, with kids playing and youth on motorcycles. It was a building behind a locked concrete gate.

Not long after we arrived and hopped out, a little boy popped his head around, shyly grinning. A little attention, some photos taken, and it wasn't long before there were twenty kids running around in the YFC yard, doing handstands and climbing on our shoulders. Their smiles were enough to tug on any of our hearts as we twirled them in the air and made up games for them to play. Older people of the community (perhaps parents and grandparents) came to watch us with the kids in the yard. Some with smiles as big as the children's.

We'll be back at the base tomorrow to see 100 patients at the makeshift clinic we're setting up. One doctor, three student nurses and one studying medicine. I have no idea how this will go. So far God's plans have greatly differentiated from our own, but we can trust Him.

Destination Accomplished

Welcoming Band at the Haiti Airport

We are here! We've touched down and arrived in the hot humid country of Haiti, greeted at the airport doors by a local singing/banjo playing/drum beating and smiling band. We've past the wooden immigration desks where not a question was asked, but ouor papers were stamped. The Miami half of us are through. We were meant to make it, after all.

However, the adventure continues...

Back when we split ways in our team, Al Heron thought it was best that the Miami half take all the second checked bags. There seemed to be more chance that the bags would go directly to Haiti. We wouldn't have to take them off in Miami and re-check them.

Last night, we confirmed with three people from Delta, standing near the baggage claims. Our bags would be held in storage at the Miami airport overnight (while we stayed) and transferred directly to Air France in the morning. With worry and bags off our chest and mind, we hurried to bed.

Now, the conveyer belt is empty. There are no more bags coming through from our flight. The air is thick and the smell a little dense; the airport continues to bustle with noise and people (and I feel very much a minority), and all fifteen of our bags our missing.

After waiting for some time, Vic went to the front desk shot off to the side of the small concrete room and enquired about our luggage. We were told (it seems just like every other white person in the room) that our bags didn't get transferred to our Air France flight, and they would be here tomorrow.

Immigration Desk - Steph made it!

It doesn't stop. When God sends you on a journey and you begin to trust Him in the small things...He will quickly add to that. It's been one change after another. One detour after the next. Yet, we continue to gather and wait and pray and hang onto Him.

Elaine and Vic begin phoning Leslie, who is still back in the Miami airport waiting for a flight home. She told them that when she talked to Air France about re-directing her checked bag...it had already been sent to Haiti. In fact, Air France in Miami said that all fifteen bags had made the flight.

Somewhere, there is a major communication breakdown between the workers here in Port-au-Prince and back in Miami. Something's not being said.

Dorothy informs us that they often take away bags in Haiti and hold them here for a day, telling you they never came through, but rooting through them in a local warehouse.

Therefore, as we sit here on the concrete floors among the mass crowd in a tiny airport, we can only pray the materials we brought, wherever they are, will reach the souls of whatever hands they are put into.

I'm tempted to tell God that we can't begin our work without our supplies. We're already behind a day. We have a daycamp to run, construction to get started and a people to treat in the clinics. He tells me, we are His workmen. It's Him indwelling in us that is all we need to bring to these people. He will take care of the materials we put together, and He has promised to take care of us.

We can only wait, trust, pray that the other half of the team makes it safety, while we enjoy the off-set fan in a crowded room of over 200 travellers...and enjoy the ride :)

He never promised the new day would be the normal day

If my dying cellphone alarm hadn't gone off this morning at 6:45am, Steph and I wouldn't have woken up. Somehow, the room call at 6:30am didn't go through. I remember looking at the last bar on my phone last night, debating whether to turn it off our set it just in case. The just in case was what woke us.

Exhausted, and saying we could sleep until noon, we climbed out of our Miami Hotel beds and wearing the same clothes as the day before, we made our way down to the lobby to meet the others for 7am. Today was smooth sailing, we thought. Today was when we made it to Haiti. You think we didn't learn...

Upon getting into the elevator, we met up with Elaine and Susan. One of their party was missing.

“She's not coming,” Elaine told us. “She just couldn't handle it.”

After all the running around the previous day – the flight cancellations and delays, stories of life in Haiti, Leslie had booked a flight back home. We were one passenger down.

Dorothy Heron was waiting for us in the lobby and soon after, Caleb and Don Baurer arrived. That's strange. We were still missing Vic Heron and his nephew Jonathan Morasse. They have always been the timely people, and Vic had all the flight itinerary.

With puzzled looks, and still thinking about losing Leslie, Dorothy headed to the counter of the Airport Hotel and enquired about the two.

“There is no one here by that name.”

“What?!”

“We don't have anyone here by that name.” The lady repeated.

Steph and I had been right in front of the two men when we checked in the previous night. The hotel had had us all booked at the airport motel and the booking lady had even remarked at how many open room there was. We'd even seen them walk up to the counter and begin the process as we grabbed our room keys and sauntered in a sleepy delirium over to the elevators. It was 7am, and nothing was going as planned.

The cellphones came out and Don begin to try and call Vic. No answer. Again. No answer.

We decided to head over to the check in. We had one hour to do so before the checking closed at 8:20am. “You arrive there at 8:21am”, the airport lady told us, “and you won't be let in.”

We figured that Vic and Jonathan were so timely, that maybe if they had stayed at another hotel and were running late, they were already headed over to check in. But the very fact that they would stay somewhere else, didn't make sense. The second thing that didn't appear characteristic was that they didn't contact anyone, or leave a note of the new arrangements.

Realizing that our adventure wasn't anywhere near finished, that our plans were not God's plans, that when God said each day is anew day He didn't say each day would be a normal day, we rushed over around the Miami airport you to the check-in counter.

Don Baurer took out his passport, presenting it to the attendant at Air France. She typed in the name and waited, a confused look crossing her face.

“I'm sorry, sir. There is nobody reserved under that name.” She checked again and then motioned for him to move over to another desk in the room.

Dorothy figured she'd check her reservation and us four remaining ladies followed. Somehow we had made the flight, but Don and Caleb hadn't.

“I'm sorry,” she said. “The flight is packed. This wasn't happening. Five ladies weren't flying on their own to Haiti with two men pushed off the flight, two men missing and half the group over in New York. Steph and I took a quick prayer break – acknowledging God's control in everything and asking for glory to be brought to His name.

Don wasn't going to wait around and let the attendants keep him in Miami. The next minute he walked over with Caleb and presented the new tickets. Turned out the flight wasn't so “packed”. We would be able to fly together.

One glance at the time showed that there was 36 minutes for the missing Vic and Jonathan to arrive. After that, the gate would be closed and who knows when they would be able to get there...who knows where they were!

We sat down on the cold floor next to a pillar in the airport. Don went back to the airport hotel to call the desk workers from the previous night in order to find out where Vic and Jonathan were. Susan went back to retrieve her Montreal-NY ticket she had left in her room. It held her baggage claim stickers and she figured, although it was a minor set-back, she might as well solve that problem while the bigger problem was being battled.

Waiting, praying, and perhaps wondering what God was up to, but learning to trust Him, we waited.

At 15 minutes remaining, Steph spotted him.

“Jonathan!” He was walking towards us from a distance, clearly in a hurry. In pursuit was Vic, hair still sticking up atop of his head. They looked like they had just gotten up.

“There was no room call this morning!” explained Vic. “I woke up at 7:56 and we were down in 3 minutes!”

“What? You were in the hotel?”

“Yes...”

There wasn't much time to explain, as we rushed to security, emptying out our water bottles and hoping to have time to use our new 21$ food vouchers on the other side. Somehow the hotel communication system had broken down within the past seven hours. Room calls for alarms hadn't been made and nobody at the desk seemed aware of the guests staying on floor six. Good to know there was a Higher Power who was aware.

We cheered and laughed and shook our head. God just seems to get us every time with this plan of His. We might make it to Haiti today. Who knows.