Wow! Where has the time gone? Summer officially started here when the kids got off school 20 days ago and it’s been a blur. A good blur, but a blur nonetheless.
We started off our summer preparing for our church's annual Dominican Republic mission trip. This year just my husband and kids were going. The team of 23 men, women and children met in our church parking lot on June 22nd at 3:30am and set off to Santo Domingo for ten days.
It was a fabulous trip for everyone! Each day they made tremendous progress on the worksite (a school/church/medical clinic/water treatment facility)—the same project we’ve been working on for the past three years.
The “old-timers” on the team (including my family) were thrilled to reunite with their Dominican friends and the newbies were old-timers in no time at all. As has come to be the norm for these trips, language and cultural differences didn’t stop Dominicans and Americans from becoming one happy family.
Dan kept us all posted with a blog he wrote—as the internet connection allowed. If you haven’t read it yet and want a look at a wonderful short-term mission experience, check it out (www.woodsidemissionaries.blogspot.com).
God was so evidently at work in it all—the friendships, the work, the worship, the fellowship. As has come to be expected on these trips, God knit together the hearts of His children and used the many experiences to touch so many so deeply. Lives will be forever changed.
During the final night’s worship/goodbye service American and Dominicans joined as family for one last time—until next year. Members from the team were invited to share their testimony and I’ve been told by many who were there that my daughter shared a testimony that was eloquent, emotional and had everyone in the place crying.
To see both of my children blossom and bloom on this trip made my mama heart grow ten sizes. I thank God for His goodness and for answered prayers.
Since the ten days that my family was away was a bit too many days to be home alone, I headed to Florida to visit my sister for a week.What a treat to enjoy so much one-on-one time together. We rested, we played, we talked, we worked a little and boy oh boy did we eat! And then I came home and spent three glorious days (literally the weather was spectacular) home alone.
As I read each update from the DR I questioned my decision to stay behind. But as the days of the trip progressed I felt that God had us all right where He wanted us.
The missionaries returned to a heroes’ welcome--happy and full of stories (and dirty laundry)—softly landing into life with a picnic at our house. What a blessing it was to be with them all and share in the glow of their experience!
While life has been full lately, I sadly haven’t written anything at all! I have, however, been observing, processing and storing up bits for later. We’ll see what comes out the other side.
For now it’s on to our next adventure—hosting an exchange student from Spain who arrived this afternoon. She’s with a group of students from Spain who are here to immerse themselves in English and visit the local sights. Dan and I immediately declared her delightful, and the kids are already planning to visit her at her home in Valencia! Despite it being 1:00am Spain time, and she’s likely weary from traveling, she happily agreed to go with my daughter to a youth group Bible study this evening.
I am excited for this experience—for what we might learn from our guest and for what we might teach her. While much of her time is scheduled, I imagine we’ll show her sights in the area and experience things we’ve always wanted to do and never have. If you’re from the Philadelphia area, do you have any suggestions?
What adventures do you have planned for the summer?
Showing posts with label DR mission trip. Show all posts
Showing posts with label DR mission trip. Show all posts
July 6, 2011
July 6, 2010
A Holy Temple, Built Together
We’re back! Loads of smelly laundry have been done. Stories have been shared. And sleep has been caught up on (sort of). The overwhelming question asked is “How was it?”
Overall our trip to the Dominican Republic was extremely successful. We persevered through rain, sickness, lack of sleep and extremely difficult work conditions to exceed construction expectations. Concrete block walls rise as testimony to that fact! The vision of a church/school/medical clinic is taking shap♠e.
Remember the challenges I wrote about previously? Well, they continued. During our beautiful, sunny afternoon at the beach, we came under attack. Swimmer after swimmer ran from the surf, wincing in pain as welts developed on injured arms, legs, feet and torsos. We quickly identified the unseen sea monsters—an infestation of jellyfish staked their claim and made their mark (literally) on our one afternoon of leisure. But we didn't let them ruin our day. We just resorted to beach walks, shell collecting, domino playing, ball throwing and plain old relaxing.
Even a brief trip to the mercado for shopping was impeded by incredible traffic and an exploding bus tire. As we all stood on the side of the road during the repair we were treated to a rain shower.
I won’t even go into the issues I had with my hair!
Yet, even though we had few of the comforts of home and were dealt one challenge after another, the spirits of our group remained high. There was little grumbling and complaining. Where people could have quit in resignation or staged a coup, they persevered day in and day out. In fact, most folks are already planning to return next year!
Everyone on the trip has special images that stick in their minds—visual experiences collected like treasures we'll revisit time and again. Here are a few of my favorites:
While I might not have the giddy emotions of past mission trips, I realize emotions are a fickle friend. God's timing may not be my timing, but it's always perfect. There's no telling the good He has done and will continue to do in me personally, in my children, in each of our team members and in our Dominican brothers and sisters.
On church this past Sunday I was thrilled to reunite with my fellow missionaries, all of us wearing our official red t-shirts. As we shared stories with our church family, I was so proud to be part of this amazing group who stepped out in faith, rose above the challenges and became the hands and feet of Jesus. Seeing this experience with fresh eyes was the reminder I needed (one I need all too frequently)—it's not about me!
"In him the whole building is joined together and rises to become a holy temple in the Lord. And in him you too are being built together to become a dwelling in which God lives by his Spirit." (Ephesians 2:20-21)
Amen!
Overall our trip to the Dominican Republic was extremely successful. We persevered through rain, sickness, lack of sleep and extremely difficult work conditions to exceed construction expectations. Concrete block walls rise as testimony to that fact! The vision of a church/school/medical clinic is taking shap♠e.
 |
| After five days on the work site, our progress is remarkable. |
 |
| Jellyfish welt. Ouch! |
Even a brief trip to the mercado for shopping was impeded by incredible traffic and an exploding bus tire. As we all stood on the side of the road during the repair we were treated to a rain shower.
I won’t even go into the issues I had with my hair!
Yet, even though we had few of the comforts of home and were dealt one challenge after another, the spirits of our group remained high. There was little grumbling and complaining. Where people could have quit in resignation or staged a coup, they persevered day in and day out. In fact, most folks are already planning to return next year!
Everyone on the trip has special images that stick in their minds—visual experiences collected like treasures we'll revisit time and again. Here are a few of my favorites:
 | ||
| Despite a steady downpour, the American and Dominican kids gathered to sing some songs. |
- Watching the kids, especially my daughter, build relationships, engage and come alive. They all sparkled and I know this experience marked them forever. One little boy said, “This trip is even better than going to Disney World!”
- While I didn't love digging trenches with pick axes and shovels in the blazing sun, I loved working with the Dominicans on the site— working with mecla and a plana to build walls, bending rebar and making columns, and climbing on top of walls to pour concreto. I'll miss Chi Chi, Andres, Ed, Israel, Nelson, Lucman and the others.
 |
| Dave and I worked hard to finish our "windows" |
- Enjoying our afternoon café con leche—despite the fact I was nearing heat stroke on several days.
- Witnessing the church in action. While we built a physical structure with cement blocks and concrete, we became the Church as Jesus intended—each of us living stones, built upon one another and cemented together by the Holy Spirit.
- Saying our tearful goodbyes and seeing how much of an impact ten days had on everyone.
- Coming home and appreciating simple conveniences like clean tap water, being able to flush toilet paper and drivers who follow traffic rules. Certainly all our houses are luxurious mansions by Dominican standards.
 |
| Singing with the kids at VBS in the park. |
 |
| Somehow I ended up being one of the dirtiest every day! |
While I might not have the giddy emotions of past mission trips, I realize emotions are a fickle friend. God's timing may not be my timing, but it's always perfect. There's no telling the good He has done and will continue to do in me personally, in my children, in each of our team members and in our Dominican brothers and sisters.
On church this past Sunday I was thrilled to reunite with my fellow missionaries, all of us wearing our official red t-shirts. As we shared stories with our church family, I was so proud to be part of this amazing group who stepped out in faith, rose above the challenges and became the hands and feet of Jesus. Seeing this experience with fresh eyes was the reminder I needed (one I need all too frequently)—it's not about me!
"In him the whole building is joined together and rises to become a holy temple in the Lord. And in him you too are being built together to become a dwelling in which God lives by his Spirit." (Ephesians 2:20-21)
Amen!
Added 7/8/10:
June 27, 2010
Maravilloso (Marvelous)
Today is our fifth day—the halfway point--of the trip.
We got a break from construction and conducted an all-day medical clinic. Five Dominican doctors and three of our nurses saw 582 patients in a five-hour span. Patients were seen in family units and for most it was their only opportunity to receive medical care and medications. Even though we could only offer the basics of care, the families were very thankful for even that.
I think about how much we complain about our health care system in the US. Believe me, one day at a clinic here and you’d thank God for the access and resources we have!
After three days on the work site we’ve accomplished so much. We started Friday with a 50+ person cinderblock line…in the street, down the sidewalk, around the corner and onto the work site. Everyone participated--grownups, kids, Dominicans, Americans. In no time at all we moved tons of blocks. At about 40 pounds per block, it was a great show of strength and teamwork.
There’s been something for everyone to do. Cut and bend rebar, use the pick axe, shovel trenches (which seem to be multiplying like loaves and fish), mix concreto and mecla, or play with the kids. My personal favorite has wielding a trowel and bucket of mecla to help build the walls. It’s not a job the Dominicans seem eager to give up, so I’ve been happy to been allowed to help. With so many people working the walls are rising quickly. We have six wall sections started so far.
One thing became evident after our third day on the work site—us Americans are definitely not used to such strenuous work. With aching muscles, sore backs and outright fatigue we were all sagging by the end of the day.
As Anthony said, “You could just look at people’s faces and see how exhausted they were.”
I’m continued to be amazed at how well the kids (Dominican and American) all get along and how resourceful they are. The other day on the work site a group of boys played baseball using a plastic soda bottle filled with rocks and a broomstick…and they had a great time! I haven’t heard a single, “Mom, I’m bored!” In fact the opposite it true, all the kids are engaged and animated—with no TV, computers, cell phones, video games or gadgets. Amazing!
This trip has not been without its challenges…more it seems than last year. We have had several people get sick, including three today. Long hours and general exhaustion have taken a physical toll. An outreach activity last night didn’t go as planned (at all). The devil seems to be trying to get a grasp on this trip. But, I believe God will use it all for good and await to see how that happens.
Even still the Spirit is alive and at work. Revealing Himself in our large and small group devotions. In the intimate one-on-one connections. In shared moments. And times of prayer and worship. Last night we got a big “Wow!” during the service we led at the church in Haina.
On the Haiti trips this spring, Pastor Brony (the pastor of the church here in Haina) introduced some of us to a song wrote, (Maravilloso). Us Americans practiced the song before we came and sang it for Brony and his congregation at the service. As soon as he heard the first few notes, a smile of recognition spread across his face and the faces of his congregation. The tambourine, drums, bongos and “cheese graters” joined in with our guitars as we all sang with incredible joy and enthusiasm.
It’s these moments we treasure. Dios es maravillos. (God is marvelous.)
Tomorrow we’ll run a VBS in the park and then we’ll have a much needed afternoon at the beach! We are ALL looking forward to that and are praying for NO RAIN!
Dios te bendiga!
We got a break from construction and conducted an all-day medical clinic. Five Dominican doctors and three of our nurses saw 582 patients in a five-hour span. Patients were seen in family units and for most it was their only opportunity to receive medical care and medications. Even though we could only offer the basics of care, the families were very thankful for even that.
I think about how much we complain about our health care system in the US. Believe me, one day at a clinic here and you’d thank God for the access and resources we have!
After three days on the work site we’ve accomplished so much. We started Friday with a 50+ person cinderblock line…in the street, down the sidewalk, around the corner and onto the work site. Everyone participated--grownups, kids, Dominicans, Americans. In no time at all we moved tons of blocks. At about 40 pounds per block, it was a great show of strength and teamwork.
There’s been something for everyone to do. Cut and bend rebar, use the pick axe, shovel trenches (which seem to be multiplying like loaves and fish), mix concreto and mecla, or play with the kids. My personal favorite has wielding a trowel and bucket of mecla to help build the walls. It’s not a job the Dominicans seem eager to give up, so I’ve been happy to been allowed to help. With so many people working the walls are rising quickly. We have six wall sections started so far.
One thing became evident after our third day on the work site—us Americans are definitely not used to such strenuous work. With aching muscles, sore backs and outright fatigue we were all sagging by the end of the day.
As Anthony said, “You could just look at people’s faces and see how exhausted they were.”
I’m continued to be amazed at how well the kids (Dominican and American) all get along and how resourceful they are. The other day on the work site a group of boys played baseball using a plastic soda bottle filled with rocks and a broomstick…and they had a great time! I haven’t heard a single, “Mom, I’m bored!” In fact the opposite it true, all the kids are engaged and animated—with no TV, computers, cell phones, video games or gadgets. Amazing!
This trip has not been without its challenges…more it seems than last year. We have had several people get sick, including three today. Long hours and general exhaustion have taken a physical toll. An outreach activity last night didn’t go as planned (at all). The devil seems to be trying to get a grasp on this trip. But, I believe God will use it all for good and await to see how that happens.
Even still the Spirit is alive and at work. Revealing Himself in our large and small group devotions. In the intimate one-on-one connections. In shared moments. And times of prayer and worship. Last night we got a big “Wow!” during the service we led at the church in Haina.
On the Haiti trips this spring, Pastor Brony (the pastor of the church here in Haina) introduced some of us to a song wrote, (Maravilloso). Us Americans practiced the song before we came and sang it for Brony and his congregation at the service. As soon as he heard the first few notes, a smile of recognition spread across his face and the faces of his congregation. The tambourine, drums, bongos and “cheese graters” joined in with our guitars as we all sang with incredible joy and enthusiasm.
It’s these moments we treasure. Dios es maravillos. (God is marvelous.)
Tomorrow we’ll run a VBS in the park and then we’ll have a much needed afternoon at the beach! We are ALL looking forward to that and are praying for NO RAIN!
Dios te bendiga!
Added 7/8/10:
- Read 1st DR mission trip entry
- Read 2nd mission trip entry
- Read 3rd mission trip entry
- Read 4th mission trip entry
June 24, 2010
Grace Like Rain
We’re here in Santo Domingo. Safe and sound. It’s the end of our first full day…and our first day on the work site. For those of us who have been here before, it was great to see old friends. Newcomers made friends in no time at all. Now we’re one big, happy bunch. Dominicans and Americans.
If one word could sum up today it was MUD. It’s been raining here for days. The work site looked more like we’re building a swimming pool than a church. Some of the kids actually did swim in the giant muddy pools of water!
Even with all the rain we managed to get a lot done. Trenches were dug. Rebar was cut, bent and tied together. Kids were played with. Piles were shoveled. And even some concrete was poured. We finished the work day tired, soaking wet and incredibly dirty but thrilled for the progress we made and oh, so happy to be here.
The highlight of today was our devotion this evening. We met in small groups first and then joined for large group worship and sharing. It was our first time joined together in this type of gathering. It was great to refocus on our real reason for being here. Besides a sharing powerful singing (us Presbyterians can sing loud when we want to!), we shared a lot of laughter as well.
Our small groups shared their impressions from the day and our trip so far. Here’s what some of the folks said:
Tomorrow is another work day. Hopefully the rain will stop, but we will do what we can regardless of the weather. We have some things planned that we’ve never done on these trips before, so I’m excited to see how they turn out. Stay tuned…
Dios te bendiga.
If one word could sum up today it was MUD. It’s been raining here for days. The work site looked more like we’re building a swimming pool than a church. Some of the kids actually did swim in the giant muddy pools of water!
Even with all the rain we managed to get a lot done. Trenches were dug. Rebar was cut, bent and tied together. Kids were played with. Piles were shoveled. And even some concrete was poured. We finished the work day tired, soaking wet and incredibly dirty but thrilled for the progress we made and oh, so happy to be here.
The highlight of today was our devotion this evening. We met in small groups first and then joined for large group worship and sharing. It was our first time joined together in this type of gathering. It was great to refocus on our real reason for being here. Besides a sharing powerful singing (us Presbyterians can sing loud when we want to!), we shared a lot of laughter as well.
Our small groups shared their impressions from the day and our trip so far. Here’s what some of the folks said:
I came because my nine-year-old daughter saw the slide show from last year and her young friend was in one of the pictures. She said, “Mom, he was in the DR and he’s MY age! Next year I want to go!” I never thought I’d do something like this, but now my daughter and I are here together.
The thing I feared most was the lack of amenities -- cold shower, really hot weather with no air conditioning and questionable bathrooms. I’m surprised by how none of that bothers me now.
What amazed me the most today was the teamwork. Everybody focused on the goal of the minute. Whatever needed to be done people did. Whether we needed to dig or move a pile of gravel or form a bucket line, we worked as one team. It was so awesome to see!
This afternoon, after lunch it was raining so hard that it looked like we were going to have to leave the work site, but Pastor Brony (our maestro) came to us (as we waited under the shelter of a neighbor’s porch) that it was time to mix concrete. Just like that we started moving stones and mixing concrete. We ended up working the entire day. Even though we were drenched, it was amazing how much work we got done.
It was so cool today how quickly all the kids (Dominicans and Americans) played together. Within moments of us getting off the bus it was like one group of children from little ones to teenagers. It didn’t matter that they didn’t speak the same language. They spoke with balls and bubbles and giggles and gestures. All day long they had fun together. That would NEVER happen at home and it made me so happy to watch.
Tomorrow is another work day. Hopefully the rain will stop, but we will do what we can regardless of the weather. We have some things planned that we’ve never done on these trips before, so I’m excited to see how they turn out. Stay tuned…
Dios te bendiga.
Added 7/8/10:
- Read 1st DR mission trip entry
- Read 2nd mission trip entry
- Read 3rd mission trip entry
- Read 4th mission trip entry
June 23, 2010
Go! (aka Just Do It!)
"But you will receive power when the Holy Spirit comes on you; and you will be my witnesses in Jerusalem, and in all Judea and Samaria, and to the ends of the earth." (Acts 1:8)
By the time you read this all 39 of us missionaries should be cruising at 30,000 feet somewhere over the Atlantic Ocean. And by noon I expect we’ll be in the Santo Domingo airport eating corn pizza and drinking Red Rock soda. Aaah, it’ll be good to be home.
When I look at the roster I see such a diverse group ranging in age from six to seventy-something. We have students from kindergarten to college, business executives, nurses, teachers, stay-at-home moms and stay-at home dads, pastors and pastors-to-be. Some are seasoned travelers, others await the first stamp in their freshly-minted passports. Some speak bits of Spanish, but most are English-speaking only. Some travel with confidence in the skills they have to offer—to heal, teach, sing, lead or construct. Others aren’t quite sure what they’re doing here.
I’m pretty sure no one got a good sleep last night, given that nerves were on edge and alarms were set for 2:30 a.m.! By tonight we’ll all be wiped out, punch drunk with fatigue and incredibly hot. But we will have arrived. And we'll be together. Ready to go.
I know God has a plan for each of us here right now. Before we were born He knew we'd be here. He knows exactly how our unique offerings—our personalities, heart and energy—are needed. His strength will cover our weakness. His joy will be our strength. And His grace will be sufficient.
It’s an exciting time…just like the apostle Paul said, "This same Good News that came to you is going out all over the world. It is bearing fruit everywhere by changing lives, just as it changed your lives ...” (Colossians 1:6, NLT)
As Rick Warren says:
Please check back for periodic updates during the next ten days and keep us in your prayers.
Dios te bendiga.
By the time you read this all 39 of us missionaries should be cruising at 30,000 feet somewhere over the Atlantic Ocean. And by noon I expect we’ll be in the Santo Domingo airport eating corn pizza and drinking Red Rock soda. Aaah, it’ll be good to be home.When I look at the roster I see such a diverse group ranging in age from six to seventy-something. We have students from kindergarten to college, business executives, nurses, teachers, stay-at-home moms and stay-at home dads, pastors and pastors-to-be. Some are seasoned travelers, others await the first stamp in their freshly-minted passports. Some speak bits of Spanish, but most are English-speaking only. Some travel with confidence in the skills they have to offer—to heal, teach, sing, lead or construct. Others aren’t quite sure what they’re doing here.
I’m pretty sure no one got a good sleep last night, given that nerves were on edge and alarms were set for 2:30 a.m.! By tonight we’ll all be wiped out, punch drunk with fatigue and incredibly hot. But we will have arrived. And we'll be together. Ready to go.
I know God has a plan for each of us here right now. Before we were born He knew we'd be here. He knows exactly how our unique offerings—our personalities, heart and energy—are needed. His strength will cover our weakness. His joy will be our strength. And His grace will be sufficient.
It’s an exciting time…just like the apostle Paul said, "This same Good News that came to you is going out all over the world. It is bearing fruit everywhere by changing lives, just as it changed your lives ...” (Colossians 1:6, NLT)
As Rick Warren says:
The best way to develop Great Commission eyes is to just get up and go on a short-term mission project to another country! There's simply no substitute for hands-on, real life experience in another culture. Quit studying and discussing your mission and just do it! I dare you to dive into the deep end.I couldn't agree with him more!
It will enlarge your heart, expand your vision, stretch your faith, deepen your compassion, and fill you with a kind of joy you've never experienced. It could be the turning point in your life.”
Please check back for periodic updates during the next ten days and keep us in your prayers.
Dios te bendiga.
Taken last year at the building site. This is where we'll work again.
We'll begin to build a church, plus a school and medical clinic.
June 21, 2010
One Adventure Ends...and Another Begins
"But small is the gate and narrow the road that leads to life, and only a few find it." (Matthew 7:14)
 |
| Following our guide across one of many bridges. Metaphor anyone? |
I usually smile in reply, but think to myself, Yeah you probably could.
I’m not a remarkable person. I didn’t bring any special skills or extraordinary fitness with me into the Canyon. As I see it only three things separate the naysayers from me—a desire to try, some training and a belief that I could do it. (Of course, financial resources and basic health/fitness are also necessary.)
 |
| At the bottom of the Grand Canyon. Ready to start our third day. |
- Why do we erect fences defining what we can and cannot do?
- Why are we so quick to doubt our potential?
- How can we be so sure if we’ve never tried?
I have a distinguished history of doing just that—not with physical challenges, but from spiritual ones. Deep down (and not so deep down) I’m a spiritual scaredy-cat.
 | |
| How'd we get from there (top of picture) to here (bottom of picture)? One step at a time. |
… lead a Bible study.
… pray out loud.
… teach a class.
… go on a hospital sick visit in a ministerial capacity.
… go into a prison
… speak at a podium
… go on a mission trip
… have a story published
… sit with a dying friend
… visit with someone I don’t know, whose language I don’t speak and pray with them.
Each one of these doors I kept firmly closed, but Jesus patiently stood outside knocking, “Will you come out and follow me?” “No!” I replied. But He didn’t go away.
For some reason in each of the above instances I cracked open the door of possibility—and eventually said “yes." But why?
I’m pretty sure it’s not because I’m eager to make a fool of myself (and I'm quite sure I have). It’s not that I felt qualified (usually the opposite is true). And it’s not even that I believed I would succeed. The only thing I know is that in my heart I desire to be a follower— not a sitter-on-the-sidelines—of Jesus. I want to run the race and I want to run it well.
To do this often means training in new and sometimes painful ways. In ways that work neglected muscles, build strength and increase endurance—slowly, one step, one “yes” at a time. As I've traveled, I believe Jesus speaks these words to me, and to all who doubt or hesitate, “My grace is sufficient for you, for my power is made perfect in weakness.” (2 Corinthians 12:9)
Where we are weak, He is strong.
What doors do you have firmly shut with a resolute, "Who me? Never!" Where do you need a new vision to see what's possible? What physical or spiritual muscles need a workout? Jesus is waiting. Will you open the door and follow Him?
_____________________________________________________________________________
In a little over 24 hours, I’m off on another adventure…another leg of the race. This time I’m headed back to the Dominican Republic for my second mission trip there.
On Wednesday at 3:15 a.m. my kids and I will join 36 others in the parking lot of our church and board a bus bound for Newark airport and ultimately Santo Domingo. Some are “first-timers” who are probably filled with the same anxieties, questions and concerns as I was last year. Others are veteran DR missionaries who are on their sixth, seventh or eighth trips. But all of us are fellow runners who’ve bravely said “yes” to God.
For ten days we’ll continue the work we began last year (building a church in Haina). We’ll conduct medical clinics, home visits and VBS. We’ll reconnect with old friends and make new ones. We’ll sing, worship, pray and play together. And we’ll live in community with one another as we work side by side, mano a mano—living, breathing stones in the body of Christ.
I’m so excited to get there. I’m excited for my kids who are thrilled to be going back. I’m excited to see how God works in us and through us all. Will you pray for us?
I hope to post periodic updates from the house where we’ll be staying. Last I heard the internet was down. Check back throughout our time away.
March 29, 2010
Life Off the Mountaintop
It’s hard to believe I haven’t written here for over two weeks. This morning I woke up and thought, It’s time to get back.
Last time I shared about my trip to Haiti. In the past weeks I’ve talked about it, written about it, thought about it and put people to sleep showing them pictures from it.
Let’s just say I am still a little—okay, more than a little—affected by the trip. There is a spot in my heart that burns with love for the Haitians we met and wants more than anything to go back. People have noticed—and not always in a good way. A friend said to me, “You’re holding onto Haiti like a blanket…like life will never be that good again.”
Besides thinking to myself, Boy, that was pretty darn rude! I considered the question.
Am I?
Yes, Christine, Bob and I talk nonstop about Haiti when we’re together. We discuss the latest news from Camp Hope. We ponder plans for the future. We yearn to return.
But do I really think life will never get better again? Am I stuck living in the past? The bigger question looming is: what will I do with this mountaintop experience?
During the Transfiguration Peter, John and James experienced the glory of God in a dazzling display (Matthew 17:1-11). Their spirits danced with excitement. They wanted to stay on the mountaintop and savor the experience. But shortly after, Jesus led them off the mountain and into the valley. Back to the chaos and needs of every day life. Back to the people who needed Him. It wasn’t even until years later that the three fully understood what they’d witnessed and what it meant to their lives.
Yes, I want to stay on the mountaintop of Haiti. I want to talk about it and look at pictures. But I know that if that is all that I got out of the trip, I missed the point.
God did not take me (or any who went) there so we could hold onto and remain stuck in the experience. It was but one chapter, albeit a glorious one, of the story He’s writing on our hearts. What this chapter means to the rest of the story remains to be seen.
Haiti was a gift. Not to hold onto, but to share, use and multiply. I want it to alter my actions and attitudes. Inspire my activities. Ignite my passion. Enrich my relationships. Soften my heart. And sharpen my vision and hearing for the cry of God’s people—whether they’re across the globe or down the street.
I think that someday God will allow me to return to Camp Hope, but for now I know He’s called me to do His work here at home among my friends, family, church and community. And I will do so with passion and praise.
It’s a challenge put before each of us—What do we do with our mountaintop experiences? Will we even follow our Lord there in the first place? Once there, will we set up camp or will we follow Him back down to the valley with hearts rewritten to love and serve in His name?
For me, all I want is to hear his voice and have the courage to follow.
Last time I shared about my trip to Haiti. In the past weeks I’ve talked about it, written about it, thought about it and put people to sleep showing them pictures from it.
Let’s just say I am still a little—okay, more than a little—affected by the trip. There is a spot in my heart that burns with love for the Haitians we met and wants more than anything to go back. People have noticed—and not always in a good way. A friend said to me, “You’re holding onto Haiti like a blanket…like life will never be that good again.”
Besides thinking to myself, Boy, that was pretty darn rude! I considered the question.
Am I?
Yes, Christine, Bob and I talk nonstop about Haiti when we’re together. We discuss the latest news from Camp Hope. We ponder plans for the future. We yearn to return.
But do I really think life will never get better again? Am I stuck living in the past? The bigger question looming is: what will I do with this mountaintop experience?
During the Transfiguration Peter, John and James experienced the glory of God in a dazzling display (Matthew 17:1-11). Their spirits danced with excitement. They wanted to stay on the mountaintop and savor the experience. But shortly after, Jesus led them off the mountain and into the valley. Back to the chaos and needs of every day life. Back to the people who needed Him. It wasn’t even until years later that the three fully understood what they’d witnessed and what it meant to their lives.
Yes, I want to stay on the mountaintop of Haiti. I want to talk about it and look at pictures. But I know that if that is all that I got out of the trip, I missed the point.
God did not take me (or any who went) there so we could hold onto and remain stuck in the experience. It was but one chapter, albeit a glorious one, of the story He’s writing on our hearts. What this chapter means to the rest of the story remains to be seen.
Haiti was a gift. Not to hold onto, but to share, use and multiply. I want it to alter my actions and attitudes. Inspire my activities. Ignite my passion. Enrich my relationships. Soften my heart. And sharpen my vision and hearing for the cry of God’s people—whether they’re across the globe or down the street.
I think that someday God will allow me to return to Camp Hope, but for now I know He’s called me to do His work here at home among my friends, family, church and community. And I will do so with passion and praise.
It’s a challenge put before each of us—What do we do with our mountaintop experiences? Will we even follow our Lord there in the first place? Once there, will we set up camp or will we follow Him back down to the valley with hearts rewritten to love and serve in His name?
For me, all I want is to hear his voice and have the courage to follow.
“Then I heard the voice of the Lord saying, ‘Whom shall I send? And who will go for us?’ And I said, ‘Here am I. Send me!’” (Isaiah 6:8)
March 12, 2010
Haiti and Me - Part 2
I have so many other things I should be doing right now, but I just can’t get away from Haiti. I don’t know why I feel so sad today, but I do. My thoughts are there. My heart is there. My fingers feel compelled to tap away on the keyboard to get it out.
I mentioned in my last post that Haiti wasn’t what I expected. Keep in mind that I saw a very small part of the earthquake situation. Haiti is still very much in crisis. The rubble in Port-au-Prince will take years to clear away before they can even start to rebuild. Hundreds of thousands are homeless. Needs far exceed the help available. Haiti very much needs our support for years to come.
But in my small slice of this desperately poor country, I saw hope. On a remote, arid acreage I saw the birthing of a community guided by the loving and capable hands of the American Refugee Committee and specifically one amazing young woman named Leah Elliott. At 28 years old, Leah has seen and done far more than most of us will do in a lifetime.
She flew to Haiti from a camp she ran in Rwanda. She came on a UN flight days after the earthquake and hasn’t left since. She doesn’t go home at night to a comfy bed, running water or cable TV. She sleeps in one of the tents right alongside the refugees (technically they’re internally displaced people or IDPs). Every day Leah works tirelessly to collaborate with other aid agencies, guides the camp community to run smoothly, and looks to build a future for the residents of this camp, Camp Hope.
Today I received an email from Leah and she said they’re looking to rebuild the local school across the road from the camp. Ideally they’ll expand the school to accommodate both the town and camp children. They’re also looking to support teacher fees and materials for the students (uniforms, books, supplies, etc.). She wrote, “I think it is an exciting project that will make a lasting change in the community — both camp and Fonds-Parisien.”
Exciting indeed! How awesome this is. Please lift Leah and this project up to God’s capable hands.
As I wrote last time, there was much I expected to see in Haiti and I didn’t. But what surprised me most was what I didn’t expect. Love.
For me Haiti was about the love between people. Between an army of international volunteers and the residents of a devastated country. Between our Foundation for Peace colleagues. Between our security guards and cooks. Between the eight of us volunteers on our team. And most of all between all of us and the Haitian residents in Camp Hope.
Haiti was about Jude. Junior. Eben. Guyenson. Jessica. Agate. Marcellus. Francoise. Patrick. Lovely. Lucsum. Jean. Ehock. Robinson. Valentin. Nadege. Manite. Paul. Beniel. Dave. It was about the newborn babies, born since the earthquake. And it was about all the others, especially the children, whose names I forget or never knew.
Their faces flash through my mind like an endless slide show. I see their smiles and hear their laughter. I feel the little ones grabbing for my hands as I walked through camp. I see the way their faces light up when I call out greetings in my broken Creole/French. (I’m pretty sure I murdered both languages, but they accepted me nonetheless.)
Haiti cracked open my hardened heart. An earthquake devastated a country but being there crumbled the concrete walls around my heart. In Ezekiel God says, “I will give you a new heart and put a new spirit in you; I will remove from you your heart of stone and give you a heart of flesh.” (36:26) In Haiti, God did that for me.
From the Haitians I learned about faith. Even though, by our standards they have nothing, they praise God for what they do have instead of cursing Him for what they don’t. They have an enduring spirit that shines brightly and perseveres. Isn’t it strange we traveled far from the “blessings” of America only to experience blessings far more precious and long-lasting?
At night, in the house we stayed at in Jimani, we’d gather for worship—Americans, Dominicans and some of our new Haitian friends. On our last evening we enthusiastically sang the newly-learned Haitian and Dominican songs. We clapped, prayed and even danced a little. At one point Valentin, a truly remarkable man from Port-au-Prince, started to sing in Creole. Soon the Dominicans started singing in Spanish. Then us Americans joined in and sang in English.
Three languages lifted together in praise to our mighty God. Over and over we sang. While we couldn’t all speak to one another without a translator, the Holy Spirit translated our offering into the sweetest worship I’ve ever experienced. All any of us could say was, “Wow!”
Haiti is in my heart. I am a better person—a changed person—from the experience. I pray for Camp Hope and our Haitian friends daily and hope I see them again this side of heaven. For now I treasure our time together and trust that, while I didn’t accomplish heroic feats, just showing up to love and be loved in the name of Jesus is enough.
As Mother Theresa said, “In this life we cannot do great things. We can only do small things with great love.”
Enjoy the pictures. (I have 1,283 more if you want to stop by and see them!)
Be blessed and be a blessing,
I mentioned in my last post that Haiti wasn’t what I expected. Keep in mind that I saw a very small part of the earthquake situation. Haiti is still very much in crisis. The rubble in Port-au-Prince will take years to clear away before they can even start to rebuild. Hundreds of thousands are homeless. Needs far exceed the help available. Haiti very much needs our support for years to come.
But in my small slice of this desperately poor country, I saw hope. On a remote, arid acreage I saw the birthing of a community guided by the loving and capable hands of the American Refugee Committee and specifically one amazing young woman named Leah Elliott. At 28 years old, Leah has seen and done far more than most of us will do in a lifetime.
She flew to Haiti from a camp she ran in Rwanda. She came on a UN flight days after the earthquake and hasn’t left since. She doesn’t go home at night to a comfy bed, running water or cable TV. She sleeps in one of the tents right alongside the refugees (technically they’re internally displaced people or IDPs). Every day Leah works tirelessly to collaborate with other aid agencies, guides the camp community to run smoothly, and looks to build a future for the residents of this camp, Camp Hope.
Today I received an email from Leah and she said they’re looking to rebuild the local school across the road from the camp. Ideally they’ll expand the school to accommodate both the town and camp children. They’re also looking to support teacher fees and materials for the students (uniforms, books, supplies, etc.). She wrote, “I think it is an exciting project that will make a lasting change in the community — both camp and Fonds-Parisien.”
Exciting indeed! How awesome this is. Please lift Leah and this project up to God’s capable hands.
As I wrote last time, there was much I expected to see in Haiti and I didn’t. But what surprised me most was what I didn’t expect. Love.
For me Haiti was about the love between people. Between an army of international volunteers and the residents of a devastated country. Between our Foundation for Peace colleagues. Between our security guards and cooks. Between the eight of us volunteers on our team. And most of all between all of us and the Haitian residents in Camp Hope.
Haiti was about Jude. Junior. Eben. Guyenson. Jessica. Agate. Marcellus. Francoise. Patrick. Lovely. Lucsum. Jean. Ehock. Robinson. Valentin. Nadege. Manite. Paul. Beniel. Dave. It was about the newborn babies, born since the earthquake. And it was about all the others, especially the children, whose names I forget or never knew.
Their faces flash through my mind like an endless slide show. I see their smiles and hear their laughter. I feel the little ones grabbing for my hands as I walked through camp. I see the way their faces light up when I call out greetings in my broken Creole/French. (I’m pretty sure I murdered both languages, but they accepted me nonetheless.)
Haiti cracked open my hardened heart. An earthquake devastated a country but being there crumbled the concrete walls around my heart. In Ezekiel God says, “I will give you a new heart and put a new spirit in you; I will remove from you your heart of stone and give you a heart of flesh.” (36:26) In Haiti, God did that for me.
From the Haitians I learned about faith. Even though, by our standards they have nothing, they praise God for what they do have instead of cursing Him for what they don’t. They have an enduring spirit that shines brightly and perseveres. Isn’t it strange we traveled far from the “blessings” of America only to experience blessings far more precious and long-lasting?
At night, in the house we stayed at in Jimani, we’d gather for worship—Americans, Dominicans and some of our new Haitian friends. On our last evening we enthusiastically sang the newly-learned Haitian and Dominican songs. We clapped, prayed and even danced a little. At one point Valentin, a truly remarkable man from Port-au-Prince, started to sing in Creole. Soon the Dominicans started singing in Spanish. Then us Americans joined in and sang in English.
Three languages lifted together in praise to our mighty God. Over and over we sang. While we couldn’t all speak to one another without a translator, the Holy Spirit translated our offering into the sweetest worship I’ve ever experienced. All any of us could say was, “Wow!”
Haiti is in my heart. I am a better person—a changed person—from the experience. I pray for Camp Hope and our Haitian friends daily and hope I see them again this side of heaven. For now I treasure our time together and trust that, while I didn’t accomplish heroic feats, just showing up to love and be loved in the name of Jesus is enough.
As Mother Theresa said, “In this life we cannot do great things. We can only do small things with great love.”
Enjoy the pictures. (I have 1,283 more if you want to stop by and see them!)
“He who began a good work in you will carry it on to completion until the day of Christ Jesus. ” (Philippians 1:6)
Be blessed and be a blessing,
Kelli
March 4, 2010
Picture This
Hello, everyone! Guest Blogger Dan here once again, holding down the digital fort while Kelli and the Foundation for Peace team work in Haiti this week. Evidently, my first pinch-hitting attempt did not completely destroy what Kelli has toiled so carefully to build in this little corner of cyberspace over the past few years. From this, I can only conclude that I'm not trying hard enough. So, without further ado, here is Dispatch #2. Enjoy...and hear what God's people are doing this week!
Picture this.
Your entire world quite literally collapses in a matter of thirty-five utterly terrifying seconds. Your home; rubble. Family and friends; missing. What few possessions you had; destroyed. Heirlooms, photographs and mementos; vanished. Your body; broken. Your future; indeterminate. Picture your entire life reduced to the few necessities you and what remained of your family could scrounge from the disaster zone, now fitting within the confines of a blue 10' x 14' nylon tent that you will now live in until...well, until as long as it takes.
If you can see that in your mind's eye, you have some idea of what life looks and feels like in the hundreds of refugee camps scattered throughout the nation of Haiti, housing hundreds of thousands of people whose yesterdays are gone. Today is merely a struggle. Tomorrow is entirely uncertain.
Now, picture this.
Old lady who smiled ear-to-ear...
What's that you say...a smile? Here? In the middle of a disaster? Doesn't make sense.
Families with newborn babies. The Captain of the camp with his new baby and family. Me, holding a newborn...
Wait...is that a glimpse of a future I see? What else is there? What could be causing this? Show me more!
Workers digging. Families. Classes of schoolkids. Sooooooo many of us with the kids!
-------------------------------------------------
While Kelli was packing for her trip late last week, we had our friend Carrie from church over for lunch. Carrie is a nurse, and truly one of God's own angels, who went to the DR and Haiti the week before me to help mend patients in the de facto field hospital that the town of Jimani had become in the weeks following the "terramoto." Carrie brought with her stories. She brought much-needed encouragement and prayers for Kelli. She brought advice.
Then, later - mostly as an afterthought - she brought a digital camera. One with a small, portable printer. Today, the FFP team brought it to Fond Parisien and began snapping away, showing and giving away photographs. And, with that simple gesture, they began bringing something that has been sorely missing to the people living in that camp.
As Kelli reported to me this afternoon, the camera...and the 4"x6" color prints it produced...created a palpable excitement everywhere it/they went. "At first," she said, "People were curious. In time, they became obsessed...even insistent that we take their pictures. The best was Jude."
Jude is a young Haitian boy (I'd judge him to be maybe 13 or 14) who I worked with during my trip. He and I spent a day repairing sagging and damaged tents. Jude was smart, motivated, attentive and VERY industrious. After I'd shown him just a few things (how to properly orient a fly, carve a stake, move a tent, etc.), he quickly became my right-hand man. This week, I was thrilled to learn that (a) Kelli was matched up with him for similar work and (b) he had evidently promoted himself to "tent foreman."
"Jude does NOT like having his picture taken," Kelli told me, "I basically had to beg him to take one with me at first. But, after he saw it - and how much other people liked seeing theirs - he got interested. By the end of the day, he had declared himself the official photographer! By then, the camera had created a minor mob scene. People were DEMANDING we take their photos - following us around and even grabbing at us until we did."
At first, I was just amused at Kelli's stories. Taking digital pictures and then showing the subjects their images on the camera on past DR mission trips has always been a popular pastime....but, never an exercise in crowd control. Then, it hit home. It's one thing to lose your possessions. Still another to lose a home. But, those things are ultimately replaceable.
There are two things, however, that are irreplaceable. First, there are loved ones. Fortunately, the incredible strength of the Haitians' faith assures them that their lost families and friends are safe in the arms of a loving God, and will be seen again. The second thing you can't replace is your history. Think about it - what is the one thing people consistently say they would run back into a burning building to save? It's not the plasma screen. It's the family photo album, scrapbooks, great grandmother's heirloom necklace from the old country and other such memories.
For nearly two months, the residents of Camp Hope have been living nearly dreamlike, temporary lives defined by cardboard boxes of possessions, plastic tarp latrines, plain-brown-wrapper military MREs and the four walls of a donated tent. Their histories - and thus a part of themselves - were taken from them without warning. Today, their lives became real again. Something permanent came into focus. And, they have the photos to hang on their tent walls to prove it.
Picture hope. Picture joy. Picture smiles. Picture babies. Picture people rebuilding a brand-new past and thus, seeing the future. Picture Kelli, Christine, Doug and Bob making it all happen. Picture the image of Christ's love for us.
That's what mission work is all about folks. Well done, good and faithful servants!
Picture this.
Your entire world quite literally collapses in a matter of thirty-five utterly terrifying seconds. Your home; rubble. Family and friends; missing. What few possessions you had; destroyed. Heirlooms, photographs and mementos; vanished. Your body; broken. Your future; indeterminate. Picture your entire life reduced to the few necessities you and what remained of your family could scrounge from the disaster zone, now fitting within the confines of a blue 10' x 14' nylon tent that you will now live in until...well, until as long as it takes.
If you can see that in your mind's eye, you have some idea of what life looks and feels like in the hundreds of refugee camps scattered throughout the nation of Haiti, housing hundreds of thousands of people whose yesterdays are gone. Today is merely a struggle. Tomorrow is entirely uncertain.
Now, picture this.
Old lady who smiled ear-to-ear...
What's that you say...a smile? Here? In the middle of a disaster? Doesn't make sense.
Families with newborn babies. The Captain of the camp with his new baby and family. Me, holding a newborn...
Wait...is that a glimpse of a future I see? What else is there? What could be causing this? Show me more!
Workers digging. Families. Classes of schoolkids. Sooooooo many of us with the kids!
-------------------------------------------------
While Kelli was packing for her trip late last week, we had our friend Carrie from church over for lunch. Carrie is a nurse, and truly one of God's own angels, who went to the DR and Haiti the week before me to help mend patients in the de facto field hospital that the town of Jimani had become in the weeks following the "terramoto." Carrie brought with her stories. She brought much-needed encouragement and prayers for Kelli. She brought advice.
Then, later - mostly as an afterthought - she brought a digital camera. One with a small, portable printer. Today, the FFP team brought it to Fond Parisien and began snapping away, showing and giving away photographs. And, with that simple gesture, they began bringing something that has been sorely missing to the people living in that camp.
As Kelli reported to me this afternoon, the camera...and the 4"x6" color prints it produced...created a palpable excitement everywhere it/they went. "At first," she said, "People were curious. In time, they became obsessed...even insistent that we take their pictures. The best was Jude."
Jude is a young Haitian boy (I'd judge him to be maybe 13 or 14) who I worked with during my trip. He and I spent a day repairing sagging and damaged tents. Jude was smart, motivated, attentive and VERY industrious. After I'd shown him just a few things (how to properly orient a fly, carve a stake, move a tent, etc.), he quickly became my right-hand man. This week, I was thrilled to learn that (a) Kelli was matched up with him for similar work and (b) he had evidently promoted himself to "tent foreman."
"Jude does NOT like having his picture taken," Kelli told me, "I basically had to beg him to take one with me at first. But, after he saw it - and how much other people liked seeing theirs - he got interested. By the end of the day, he had declared himself the official photographer! By then, the camera had created a minor mob scene. People were DEMANDING we take their photos - following us around and even grabbing at us until we did."
At first, I was just amused at Kelli's stories. Taking digital pictures and then showing the subjects their images on the camera on past DR mission trips has always been a popular pastime....but, never an exercise in crowd control. Then, it hit home. It's one thing to lose your possessions. Still another to lose a home. But, those things are ultimately replaceable.
There are two things, however, that are irreplaceable. First, there are loved ones. Fortunately, the incredible strength of the Haitians' faith assures them that their lost families and friends are safe in the arms of a loving God, and will be seen again. The second thing you can't replace is your history. Think about it - what is the one thing people consistently say they would run back into a burning building to save? It's not the plasma screen. It's the family photo album, scrapbooks, great grandmother's heirloom necklace from the old country and other such memories.
For nearly two months, the residents of Camp Hope have been living nearly dreamlike, temporary lives defined by cardboard boxes of possessions, plastic tarp latrines, plain-brown-wrapper military MREs and the four walls of a donated tent. Their histories - and thus a part of themselves - were taken from them without warning. Today, their lives became real again. Something permanent came into focus. And, they have the photos to hang on their tent walls to prove it.
Picture hope. Picture joy. Picture smiles. Picture babies. Picture people rebuilding a brand-new past and thus, seeing the future. Picture Kelli, Christine, Doug and Bob making it all happen. Picture the image of Christ's love for us.That's what mission work is all about folks. Well done, good and faithful servants!
February 27, 2010
My Bags Are Packed
I don't know exactly what kind of work we'll do, perhaps we'll dig latrine trenches, build shower stall frames, play with the children, sort donations, fix tents or anything else that needs help doing. Whatever is it, we'll do it with a servant's heart.
One thing I know with full confidence—after the covering of prayer I received this week— we will go with God. I don't know what He has in store, but I pray for ears to hear His voice, eyes to see His presence and a heart to love His people. I go not for my own glory, but for His.
I don't think I'll have access to a computer while I'm in Haiti so I'm going to hand over my blog to my husband (thanks Sue J. for the suggestion) to post updates, share witty turns of phrase and provide his own snarky commentary. If you've followed his comments on this blog you may understand why I do so with some fear and trepidation. I add this in advance: Disclaimer: The opinions expressed on this site are the author's personal views and do not necessarily reflect those of his employer (me) or its clients (you). :-)
Speaking of Haiti updates, I hope you all REALLY enjoyed the pictures I posted that Dan texted me from the relief sites because they I just got our cell phone bill and found out they cost a small fortune! Hence, I trust you'll understand why I'll share pictures AFTER I return home.
Will you please continue to pray for our team while we're away?
Also...check out the slide show from Haiti I posted in the right hand column. Even if you've seen it before, I added new pictures today, most taken by friends who have recently returned.. This show has been viewed by hundreds if not thousands of people and has put a real face to what's going on in one small corner of the Haitian tragedy. Feel free to share with others.
Bondye beni ou! Wè ou talè. (God bless you. See you soon.)
_________________________________________________________________________
Giveaway Winner
The winner of the Faith and Finances, A Journey to Financial Independence is YardleyDog. Congratulations! BTW...YardleyDog is a friend from here at home. I suspect he's in cahoots with my dog, Tess, who helped me select the winner. A formal investigation is underway. :-)
February 18, 2010
Scenes from Haiti - Part 2
This post is continued from yesterday. If you didn't read Part 1 click here or scroll down...
Today (Wednesday) Dan is off to dig latrines in the Haitian Refuge Camp. Please pray for him and his entire team and especially for the entire staff for the Foundation for Peace who are working tirelessly to provide ongoing relief effort to the Haitians in Jimani and Fond Parisien (sp?).
His text to me tonight said:
Good day digging - probably halfway done with latrine ditch -- 8 meters long x 3 meters wide x 3 meters deep. That's 75 yards of dirt to dig and move. Imagine that much mulch delivered to the house! I am totally whipped and we have another day like it tomorrow. Thinking we're about halfway there right now. Much happier day than yesterday which is saying something seeing as we spent the day in a 500-person refugee camp.
Even still, words can only communicate so much. I put together this slide show for the Foundation for Peace's blog with pictures taken them over the past weeks. Take time to watch it because the music and the pictures tell a powerful story.
If you have any desire to go to Haiti--go. The Foundation for Peace is only one of many organizations sending people. I know for a fact that the FFP's trips still have openings. They especially have openings for the Feb. 28 to Mar. 6 trip. You know how I know? Because as of Monday I've just decided to go with my friend Christine! Wouldn't it be great if you joined us! Go to the FFP website and check it out.
Jesus tells us to be His hands and feet. But to be them we need to step outside our comfort into the hurting—whether near to home or far away.
Be blessed...and be a blessing.
February 17, 2010
Scenes from Haiti - Part 1
Even though I stayed safely within the comfort of my home and community, the reality from Haiti was very much in my life yesterday.
I had the privilege of spending hours speaking with friends who have just returned from their mission trip (with the Foundation for Peace) to Haiti. Through their words and tears and our shared prayers I saw the immensity of the brokenness and loss. But I also saw the tremendous hope of the Haitians, not hope of a bright future, but hope in a God who loves and a Savior who saves.
Now my husband is in Haiti. Though the marvels of texting, I heard from him yesterday. It was his team's first day of real work. He was really looking forward to getting busy and being useful. The plan was to go into one of the refugee tent camps and dig latrines and build showers, just the thing he hoped to do. But not enough people volunteered to stay behind to do patient transport in the hospital (moving patients to and from OR, recovery, x-ray, tents). So Dan volunteered
My husband is a doer. If a problem needs fixing, he wants to help fix it. I knew the last place he wanted to be was in the hospital among the patients. In fact here's what Dan texted me the night before:
Yesterday here at home we covered Dan and his team with prayer. On many occasions and with heartfelt passion. He texted me mid-day and all was going well in the hospital. He learned some Haitian Creole, watched a surgery and made a friend with his little Haitian buddy Peter. It seemed the day was fairly quiet and uneventful.
I'm beginning to sense that calm and normal are a fleeting commodity in Haiti.
At the end of the day I sat in my car outside my daughter's voice teacher as she took a lesson. (No, my daughter won't let me inside to listen!) Dan sent me a text:
After reading I sat in my car and sobbed. For the baby. For the mother. For all the parents losing children. For my husband who was there. For all the sadness and suffering. And most of all for the goodness of God, visible even in the darkness.
Last night was a prison night. After the day I'd had I knew I had to go no matter what! Lately my visits to the prison have been disappointing because the spirit of disruption and disrespect have overshadowed the worship. But last night, from the first inmates who walked in I knew the Spirit of God was in control. The inmates came to praise and praise we did!
During the service I had a chance to share with them about the experiences of my friends and husband in Haiti. As I spoke about the situation there, the complete loss and utter brokenness, the room was still and all eyes focused on me. I shared about Dan and the little baby. And the unwavering faith of the Haitians who despite having absolutely nothing still proclaim victory in Jesus. He is their portion. It's hard to describe, but it was a holy moment. Not because of my words, but because the Spirit of Truth testified to God's goodness and faithfulness.
To be continued tomorrow...
I had the privilege of spending hours speaking with friends who have just returned from their mission trip (with the Foundation for Peace) to Haiti. Through their words and tears and our shared prayers I saw the immensity of the brokenness and loss. But I also saw the tremendous hope of the Haitians, not hope of a bright future, but hope in a God who loves and a Savior who saves.
Now my husband is in Haiti. Though the marvels of texting, I heard from him yesterday. It was his team's first day of real work. He was really looking forward to getting busy and being useful. The plan was to go into one of the refugee tent camps and dig latrines and build showers, just the thing he hoped to do. But not enough people volunteered to stay behind to do patient transport in the hospital (moving patients to and from OR, recovery, x-ray, tents). So Dan volunteered
My husband is a doer. If a problem needs fixing, he wants to help fix it. I knew the last place he wanted to be was in the hospital among the patients. In fact here's what Dan texted me the night before:
Change of plans. Not enough hands went up to do patient transport tomorrow so I took it. Was a little chapped at first cause u know how much I love the sweat and the dirt. Now I think it's God telling me to do what I fear and do not understand...patient care and empathy. When I came here I prayed to hear God's voice. I hope I heard right! I'll feel sad watching the bus pull away tomorrow. Won't dig latrines until Wednesday. It can wait. Got to learn something here I think.
Yesterday here at home we covered Dan and his team with prayer. On many occasions and with heartfelt passion. He texted me mid-day and all was going well in the hospital. He learned some Haitian Creole, watched a surgery and made a friend with his little Haitian buddy Peter. It seemed the day was fairly quiet and uneventful.
I'm beginning to sense that calm and normal are a fleeting commodity in Haiti.
At the end of the day I sat in my car outside my daughter's voice teacher as she took a lesson. (No, my daughter won't let me inside to listen!) Dan sent me a text:
Little baby was just rushed in--dehydrated and in shock. Was watching them treat him when they called it. Giving him morphine now so he's at least comfortable on his way to the Lord. Pray for him.
The mother just asked the doctors to work for 10 more minutes then it would be in God's hands. She wanted to hold him until he died. The doctors just finished. While they worked I was in the hallway watching while parents were singing praise songs across the hall. I'd heard about the Haitians faith and now I've seen it. I'm humbled. I think I have faith. I don't.
After reading I sat in my car and sobbed. For the baby. For the mother. For all the parents losing children. For my husband who was there. For all the sadness and suffering. And most of all for the goodness of God, visible even in the darkness.
Last night was a prison night. After the day I'd had I knew I had to go no matter what! Lately my visits to the prison have been disappointing because the spirit of disruption and disrespect have overshadowed the worship. But last night, from the first inmates who walked in I knew the Spirit of God was in control. The inmates came to praise and praise we did!
During the service I had a chance to share with them about the experiences of my friends and husband in Haiti. As I spoke about the situation there, the complete loss and utter brokenness, the room was still and all eyes focused on me. I shared about Dan and the little baby. And the unwavering faith of the Haitians who despite having absolutely nothing still proclaim victory in Jesus. He is their portion. It's hard to describe, but it was a holy moment. Not because of my words, but because the Spirit of Truth testified to God's goodness and faithfulness.
To be continued tomorrow...
August 2, 2009
From Claustrophobia to Community
I've much to share about our trip to the DR. Today I'm writing for Exemplify Online. You can read this entire story there.
“Consequently, you are no longer foreigners and aliens, but fellow citizens with God's people and members of God's household. . .” (Ephesians 2:19)
I lead a fairly solitary life. Once I get my kids out the door for school, my house is quiet until they return. Much of my day is spent working at my computer writing, completing paying projects and doing volunteer work. I like what I do, but it hardly engenders togetherness. But, since I get my energy from within, not having people around is generally OK with me. Honestly, sometimes being around a crowd can be more tiring than energizing.
My family and I just returned from a ten-day mission trip to the Dominican Republic. When preparing for the trip, one of my biggest concerns wasn’t the work or our safety or the unknown, it was being in close contact with so many others—and having little, if any, “alone” time. Just picturing the constant presence of a large group made me feel claustrophobic.
Now that we’re home, I praise God that my fears were completely misplaced. In fact, while on the trip instead of craving time alone, I thrived on our experiences together. Our group of 30 Americans representing three churches joined our in-country Dominican team including our trip organizers, a security guard, bus driver and various children whose mothers cooked for us in the house in which we stayed.
Our group did everything together in "the DR." We ate meals together. We worked together. We dug holes, carried away debris, passed buckets, wielded machetes and filled wheelbarrows together. We rode the bus together—tired and sweaty after each hard day’s work. We laughed and cried together. We ministered to the sick together. We slept on the roof under the stars together. On our one free afternoon at the beach, we played in the waves together. We prayed, sang and worshiped together.
In Haina where we’re building a church, the church members joined our group as did the children living near the work site. They joined us as we labored, mano a mano (hand in hand). Their children and ours played together in the streets. We played baseball in the park. Their loving hands prepared our lunch. On the final night of our trip, the Haina church held a worship service in the street, right in front of their future home. Together we praised God for the glorious structure starting to rise from the ground. The Spirit of God—His joy, peace and love—transcended any language barriers. Never have I so fully experienced the glory, breadth, depth and beauty of God’s Church. One body united by the blood of Jesus.
When it came time to say our final goodbyes many tears were shed. Most of us wanted to stay. It didn’t matter that we had few of the luxuries or comforts of home. We had experienced the truth of Paul’s words in Ephesians 2:19-22, and that was more than enough.
On this trip I expected one “C”— claustrophobia, and received quite another—community.
I saw what God’s community looks like. I saw fellow believers—people who for the most part started as strangers—drawn together by the Spirit to become a family—members of God’s household.
The book of Acts describes such a community: “All the believers were together and had everything in common. Selling their possessions and goods, they gave to anyone as he had need. Every day they continued to meet together in the temple courts. They broke bread in their homes and ate together with glad and sincere hearts, praising God and enjoying the favor of all the people. And the Lord added to their number daily those who were being saved.” (2:44-47)
In America we pride ourselves on being self-sufficient, pull-ourselves-up-by-our-bootstraps kind of people. But, I don't think this is as God intends. I think He wants us to rely on one another. To enter into each others' pain and suffering. To carry another's burdens. To share our joy. To praise Him. To reach out without fear. To love with abandon. To admit weakness. To set aside our busyness. To focus on the Kingdom of God and not the kingdoms of our own making. And, to do all of these things--as the preceding verse mentions three times—together.
Our society, and sometimes even our churches, don’t do much to support or encourage this type of living. As a result, we often attend Sunday services, then scurry straight home where we close the garage door immediately behind us and withdraw from our neighbors..then split yet again to our individual computers, iPods, chores and hobbies. I'm not saying that individual pursuits and interests are bad. They're not. But, I do believe that maintaining our "community of believers" is one of the greatest challenges for us a Christians in the United States.
In the DR, our group saw that this type of living isn't only possible for Americans (including fundamental introverts such as myself)—it's desirable. It fills our souls as they were intended to be filled.
Now that I’m home, the challenge is to spend more time venturing out and plugging in. Will you join me?
“Consequently, you are no longer foreigners and aliens, but fellow citizens with God's people and members of God's household. . .” (Ephesians 2:19)
I lead a fairly solitary life. Once I get my kids out the door for school, my house is quiet until they return. Much of my day is spent working at my computer writing, completing paying projects and doing volunteer work. I like what I do, but it hardly engenders togetherness. But, since I get my energy from within, not having people around is generally OK with me. Honestly, sometimes being around a crowd can be more tiring than energizing.
My family and I just returned from a ten-day mission trip to the Dominican Republic. When preparing for the trip, one of my biggest concerns wasn’t the work or our safety or the unknown, it was being in close contact with so many others—and having little, if any, “alone” time. Just picturing the constant presence of a large group made me feel claustrophobic.
Now that we’re home, I praise God that my fears were completely misplaced. In fact, while on the trip instead of craving time alone, I thrived on our experiences together. Our group of 30 Americans representing three churches joined our in-country Dominican team including our trip organizers, a security guard, bus driver and various children whose mothers cooked for us in the house in which we stayed.
Our group did everything together in "the DR." We ate meals together. We worked together. We dug holes, carried away debris, passed buckets, wielded machetes and filled wheelbarrows together. We rode the bus together—tired and sweaty after each hard day’s work. We laughed and cried together. We ministered to the sick together. We slept on the roof under the stars together. On our one free afternoon at the beach, we played in the waves together. We prayed, sang and worshiped together.
In Haina where we’re building a church, the church members joined our group as did the children living near the work site. They joined us as we labored, mano a mano (hand in hand). Their children and ours played together in the streets. We played baseball in the park. Their loving hands prepared our lunch. On the final night of our trip, the Haina church held a worship service in the street, right in front of their future home. Together we praised God for the glorious structure starting to rise from the ground. The Spirit of God—His joy, peace and love—transcended any language barriers. Never have I so fully experienced the glory, breadth, depth and beauty of God’s Church. One body united by the blood of Jesus.
When it came time to say our final goodbyes many tears were shed. Most of us wanted to stay. It didn’t matter that we had few of the luxuries or comforts of home. We had experienced the truth of Paul’s words in Ephesians 2:19-22, and that was more than enough.
On this trip I expected one “C”— claustrophobia, and received quite another—community.
I saw what God’s community looks like. I saw fellow believers—people who for the most part started as strangers—drawn together by the Spirit to become a family—members of God’s household.
The book of Acts describes such a community: “All the believers were together and had everything in common. Selling their possessions and goods, they gave to anyone as he had need. Every day they continued to meet together in the temple courts. They broke bread in their homes and ate together with glad and sincere hearts, praising God and enjoying the favor of all the people. And the Lord added to their number daily those who were being saved.” (2:44-47)
Our society, and sometimes even our churches, don’t do much to support or encourage this type of living. As a result, we often attend Sunday services, then scurry straight home where we close the garage door immediately behind us and withdraw from our neighbors..then split yet again to our individual computers, iPods, chores and hobbies. I'm not saying that individual pursuits and interests are bad. They're not. But, I do believe that maintaining our "community of believers" is one of the greatest challenges for us a Christians in the United States.
In the DR, our group saw that this type of living isn't only possible for Americans (including fundamental introverts such as myself)—it's desirable. It fills our souls as they were intended to be filled.
Now that I’m home, the challenge is to spend more time venturing out and plugging in. Will you join me?
July 23, 2009
Day 2: Set. . .
I’m going to make this quick because I REALLY don’t want to spend my time on the computer while we're here, but…
Thanks for your comments from yesterday’s post. I shared them with our team. And thanks to our Bahamas mission trip brothers and sisters. We’re praying for you -- go with God!
First of all, it’s amazing what a good night of sleep will do to restore and refresh!! We’re back from our first day on the work site, sitting on the roof of our house, hanging out until dinner and enjoying a pleasant breeze.
Today was our first day on the work site. There’s so much more to write than I have time for. I don’t even think words can do the day justice. Our main goal was to prepare the site for setting columns and foundation. This consisted of moving lots and lots and lots of rocks, and digging enormous holes, which also involved—moving lots and lots of rocks. But the main job was removing five trees, including stumps—using only pickaxes, axes and machetes!! Everyone had a chance to jump in and chop away, but to watch the Dominicans yield these tools of destruction and tame the trees into submission was truly a sight to behold.
Here’s today’s thought that I wrote for our trip’s devotional:
Thanks for your comments from yesterday’s post. I shared them with our team. And thanks to our Bahamas mission trip brothers and sisters. We’re praying for you -- go with God!
First of all, it’s amazing what a good night of sleep will do to restore and refresh!! We’re back from our first day on the work site, sitting on the roof of our house, hanging out until dinner and enjoying a pleasant breeze.
Today was our first day on the work site. There’s so much more to write than I have time for. I don’t even think words can do the day justice. Our main goal was to prepare the site for setting columns and foundation. This consisted of moving lots and lots and lots of rocks, and digging enormous holes, which also involved—moving lots and lots of rocks. But the main job was removing five trees, including stumps—using only pickaxes, axes and machetes!! Everyone had a chance to jump in and chop away, but to watch the Dominicans yield these tools of destruction and tame the trees into submission was truly a sight to behold.
A few words sum up the day:
- Machete (Anything and I mean anything can be chopped down with one of these! Picture Lucas, one of the site maestros with a machete in one hand and a Bible in the other--really!)
- Cana (sugar cane that a passing man sold like we sell ice cream. Eating it was like chewing on a stick with sweet liquid inside.)
- Coco (coconuts that the kids gathered up from one of the fallen trees. We hacked them open . . . with a machete, of course. . . and drank the liquid.)
- Limoncilla (little fruits with the appearance of tiny limes that came off one of the trees we chopped down. Honestly they were like sweet-tart, gooey, stringy eyeballs. But the Dominican children loved them…and so did some of our kids.)
- Amigo (“friend” The Dominicans young and small are unbelieably warm and friendly.)
- Ninos (“kids” This is definitely a kid-friendly experience for both gringos and Dominicans!)
- Pica (“bite” like… “Be careful, that bug bites [and usually has a million legs!”])
- Agua (In the blazing sun we drank vats of it)
- HOT (Forget about sweating, it was like we were leaking!)
Here’s today’s thought that I wrote for our trip’s devotional:
Each of us came on this trip for different reasons. Maybe you came to serve God…or maybe you came to find God. Maybe you’re here because you had to or because you thought you should. Right now you might be excited, joyful, nervous, anxious, tired or cranky. Your heart may be overflowing with God’s love or it might be parched and dry. No matter where you are or why you came, God has a plan for you in this place.
Any charitable group can come to the DR to build, teach and offer medical care. Many can even do it better than we do. But, as Christians, we come here to offer the one thing the world can’t offer—grace. Grace sets us apart from the world. So, here in the DR, we’re not just builders, teachers and helpers, we’re dispensers of grace. But what is grace?Through Jesus, grace is God’s amazing, unending, perfect love coming to us free of charge, no strings attached; and it goes against every human instinct.
As Philip Yancey says in "What’s So Amazing About Grace?" Grace is
Christianity’s best gift to the world, a spiritual nova in our midst exerting a force stronger than vengeance, stronger than racism, stronger than hate. It comes free of charge to people who do not deserve it. Simply put, grace means there’s nothing
we can do to make God love us more. And grace means there is nothing we can do
to make God love us less.With every song we sing, prayer we utter, wall we demolish, batch of concrete we mix, hug we share, tear we cry, we are being built together in a legacy of grace tracing all the way back to Jesus. As we work mano a mano to deconstruct and reconstruct, let the Spirit of God tear down walls in your own heart and let his grace do a new work in you.
God bless!
P.S. I wish I could post pictures to better show you the amazing sights, but that process takes too long. Perhaps when we return.
July 22, 2009
Day 1: Ready. . .
We’re here. We’re safe. And we’re tired. I might see 2:30 a.m. once in a while as a bedtime. But, as a waking up time? Never.
Today was a first and by 3:07 a.m. Dan, the kids and I joined our group of 30 at church to take a bus to Newark airport. And even though I’ve been awake for 13 hours, my thoughts haven’t wandered far from “I am so tired. I need to take a nap.” I’m not proud to admit, but I’m a baby about my sleep!
Today, however, is a “buck up little camper” day! And buck up we’re doing.
And it’s going great so far. We’ve arrived in the Dominican Republic, 
safely, with all our luggage and without incident. Right now we’re in the Foundation house where we’ll be staying, enjoying one of the few down times we’ll have. The kitchen staff is making dinner and the delicious smells blanket the house. A bunch of us are hanging out in the common room chatting. Some are unpacking supplies. The medically-oriented among us are meeting on the porch to plan the week’s medical activities. A few are catching some shut eye. Someone is playing Viva la Vida on a tinny piano down in the living room. And the kids, including my son, are outside playing soccer. “It fun speaking Spanish!” he excitedly proclaimed.
safely, with all our luggage and without incident. Right now we’re in the Foundation house where we’ll be staying, enjoying one of the few down times we’ll have. The kitchen staff is making dinner and the delicious smells blanket the house. A bunch of us are hanging out in the common room chatting. Some are unpacking supplies. The medically-oriented among us are meeting on the porch to plan the week’s medical activities. A few are catching some shut eye. Someone is playing Viva la Vida on a tinny piano down in the living room. And the kids, including my son, are outside playing soccer. “It fun speaking Spanish!” he excitedly proclaimed. 
In no time at all, we’re settling in. I can’t speak for the group, but I think most of us are excited to get a good night’s sleep (which won’t come for at five more hours) and really start our DR experience. Tonight after dinner we’ll attend a church service with the Dominicans that we’ll be working with. I have a feeling it’ll be a worship experience unlike most of us have ever been a part of. As my sleep-deprived mind tries to process the sights, smells and sounds, a few of the day’s highlights spring to mind, like:
Watching the blazing orange sun rise over the New York City skyline.
- Starting to bond with our group and realizing there's been no whining or melt downs by anyone.
- Realizing that after months and months of planning, this trip is really happening.
- Meeting our wonderfully enthusiastic in-country team, Anna and J.J.
- Being serenaded on the bus from the airport by a few of the children from the church we’re working with.
- Enjoying a general sense of joined purpose and anticipation.
I don’t have any deep spiritual insights to share today, but I do have an overarching sense that all is well. We’re here. . .and we’re ready.
P.S. In the time that I’ve written this, the nine chatty people sitting around me have ceased talking and have all nodded off!
The call just came in..."Time for dinner!"
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)