Our Values Video Project Final Cut

Our Values

Day 12, The Journey Complete

The rooster is crowing early today, as if he knows it is the day we will be leaving. Each of us rolled off of our cots for the last time and began packing our belongings for the two day travel ahead. It didn't take long for a visitor to arrive. It was Flouofkla. She wanted to say goodbye one more time. She was precious in her school uniform. My heart was warmed at her effort to see us one more time. God bless her.



Outside we could hear other friends gathering to help us with our gear. They grabbed suitcases and cots and hoisted them onto their own shoulders, saving us from using our own. Pastor wanted us to go visit the church one last time. I think he just wanted us to remember what it looked like...he feared us never returning. We waved our last goodbyes and headed back down the mountain one last time. There, at the bottom, near the shore, was all our belongings. Friends had carried it all there for us. Several of our closest brothers, Jean Gary, Dino, Pastor and others, stood there shoreside with us as we waited for our boat to arrive.

Jaime and I ventured out into the water, around the shoreline and back again. Incredible tree roots embedded in solid rock. Entire eco systems living among the roots. Trash caught in every crevise. Beautiful and sad all at the same time. So much education needed to save their natural resources. So many other necessities will come first. The cycle unending.

Off in the distance is our boat...so we climbed out of the water and prepared to load. Again, our friends lifted all our luggage, simply gesturing for us to load the boat empty handed. We obliged with a smile. We hugged one last time before stepping out into the water and then were pulled up into the small wooden boat. We waved...and then we waved again...the shore kept getting smaller...the waves kept getting bigger...we waved once more.




Our long journey reversed and we entered the trash dump of the port in Les Cayes once more. From there we were taken to Les Cayes Eglise Methodiste Church for a "layover" of sorts. The next bus to Port Au Prince was several hours off. Children swarmed around us, as Cooley excited them with his camera. Milord gave us a tour of his home church and the students that studied there.




Milord also walked us into the town's square to see the incredilbe towering Catholic Church. We unexpectedly ran into a Haitian friend there...Samuel. His mother we had just helped with some financial gifts to keep Samuel and his brother in school. What a gift that we would run into him in Les Cayes. It is a very large city. Amazingly still a small world. Milord shows us a plaque placed in the heart of the city...it honors the dead from the earthquake of January 12th.



We arrived back at the church to say more goodbyes. Jocelin, our cook, peeked his head in several times. This too is his home church. About the third time he handed me a small bag. I opened it and about lost my breath. It was a hand made table cloth with hand embroidery all around the edges. It also had a map of Haiti hand emproidered in the center. Even the fringe all around the edge was hand pulled and tied. Amazing. It was the only thing I had wanted from this trip to take back home. I saw none this trip, with the earthquake disrupting merchants so much. But here was one placed right in my hands. I asked Joselin "How did you know? How did you know I wanted one of these so bad?" He just looked at me with no answer.

I hugged him deeply and thanked him for the gift. But after he left, I knew the cost was quite high and asked Milord if it would offend Joselin for me to leave a gift of money to help pay for it. Milord said he thought that would be fine. I asked if he would just give it to Joselin after we leave, so he couldn't return it to me. Milord called Joselin instead! So in walks Joselin one more time, just a few minutes later. I gave him the gift and once again asked "How did you know?" Milord interpreted this time only for me to find out that Joselin had not purchased the table cloth for me...he made it for me!! WHAT??!! Jerry asked Joselin, "What don't you do?!" Joselin answered, "nothing"... humbly. We all smiled. So again I asked "So how did you know I wanted one so bad..." and Milord interpreted this question this time. Joselin said he didn't know. He just wanted me to have it. :-) I realized at that moment that God wanted me to have it, as well. It covered my dining table at home for our family's Easter meal the next week. What a blessing. What a joy. What a Savior.

So we loaded up once more and headed to the bus stop and began the long 4 hour trip to Port Au Prince. Once again we saw collapsed building after collapsed building all the way back. Sad. Quiet. Empty. We had left paradise and returned to reality. We just looked out the windows without knowing what to say.



We stayed at the United Methodist Guest House one more night and took our last trip back to Port Au Prince airport in the morning. Soon, we would be looking at Haiti from God's view. I wondered what God was thinking. The same we were, I suppose.

"Oh how I love them.
How precious they are.
I will never abandon them.
I love them."

Next chapter: February 2011...Port Au Prince, Haiti...the recovery begins.
If you would like to join our team,message me for details.

The work is much.
The laborers are few.
The rewards...
priceless.

Day 11

The week is winding down and sadness easily slips in here and there. We went off to worship and were quickly reminded that joy abounds, no matter what else ensues in life. So we sang and prayed and swayed and worshipped with our friends one last time.

After church we headed back to our rooms to get ready for lunch and ....the rest of the story! There on my bed...yes...if you can believe it...another chicken egg! This time it laid one right next to my Gordon pillow. Way funny! What's even more funny is that it bunched up a pair of my undies and laid the egg in there. Who would have thunk! I just knew something wonderfully special was going to happen with this sign of grandness set upon us! So I told pastor to expect something wonderful and that two chickens each laid eggs on our beds...he replied with a smile "that always happens around here. That's nothing special!" :-( Burst my bubble.



After lunch we asked if we could take a few pictures with everyone. They all obliged and we got some of the best shots we got all week. Family portraits of the sort. All the kids together, all the women, all the men, etc. Team pics and sweet one-on-ones. Our hearts were glad as we were reminded that each of them would go home with us, in our hearts.



We decided this was as good as time as any to give our gifts. We gave love offerings of money to our cook, our interpreter, to the Nan Soulette Eglise Methodist Church, to the pastor's family, to a young boys' mother to help care for her boy, to 5 young men who worked in ways we could never say thank you enough for, and to a couple of the young girls who cleaned our rooms daily, washed all our dishes, and cleaned our laundry throughout the our stay. It was the least we could do to show our appreciation.

Then we moved outside to offer gifts to others. We gave a gift of pretty, colorful dish towels and a matching platter to Madame Mascary, as well as a couple of bags of American delicacy candy for Pastor Mascary. Jaime and I gave many of our clothes, skirts, shirts, and shoes to several of the woman. They seemed very excited. Some of the guys shared their shorts and shirts with other young men, as well. We gave pastor a Michigan t-shirt, GO BLUE! :-)

Then we went to the children. We lined up tons of frisbees and beanie babies and told the kids present to go get all the kids in the village. They came. In full force! What a joy. Pastor had the youngest pic a frisbee and stuffed animal first, then the next youngest and so on until more than 30 frisbees and beanies were in the arms of children with smiles on their faces. What cracked us up was who they took. We expected the girls to grab the princess and fairy frisbees and the boys to grab the Mickey Mouse and Cars frisbees. The exact opposite occured!! Each and every time!! I guess the boys liked those little princesses and the girls were really attracted to Mickey! Too funny.



Shorty after all gifts were given, pastor invited us all on a walk with him. We had no idea what was in store, but we happily agreed. First he took us down the east side of the shoreline of Ile a Vache, showing us where he and Madame first lived when they were married. He shared that he was born and raised on the island all 77 years of his life. He said they had three different houses as a married couple and "each one started down here (by the shore) and ended up way over there (far inland up the mountain)." Come to find out, each was swept away by hurricanes from time to time. He said it was then they moved up the mountain just below where the church was eventually built. I asked him if that was his idea or Madame's...he replied, "BOTH!" We all laughed.

He pointed out family by family, school houses, and craftsmen. Then he took us back by his home and along the shore west, all the way through Nan Soulette and the ocean's bay. We had no idea Nan Soulette covered such a large area with so many families to care for. We were shown their sister church, a Community church made of palm thatch. Amazing. They do many ministries together, pastor tells us.

We also see what looks like a picnic area or something. When we ask, we are told it is a cock fighting ring. This is a place where people bring their roosters to fight to the end. YIKES!! Cooley really, really wanted to watch a fight, as we see men along our path walking toward the ring with rooster in hand. Jerry replies, "We dont' do that as Methodists, Cooley." I'm sure at that very moment Cooley wished we were some other denomination that lifted cock fighting as a sacrement or at least a fellowship event. :-) Sorry Cooley. Maybe next time.



After a little rest along the way, some fresh sugar cane to suck on, and a long walk back, we settled in for dinner...and what a dinner we had!! An incredible feast lay before our eyes! We invited Pastor and Madame to eat with us, which they do not the entire time we are there. It was nice to have them at the table with us. We ooo-ed and aaaaa-ed our way through the meal. We couldn't wait to see the rest of the village eat the feast that was left over when we left the table...and eat they did! Probably 40 or more people had plates full of food after we were done! Incredible to see such joy on so many faces. A typical meal here is a small pile of rice and beans. We had probably 12 different dishes of chicken, pork, goat, pastas, vegees, fresh fruit, a cake to die for, and so much more! What a joy to share.



After dinner, a few of the lay speakers at the church hauled down a huge speaker from the church to the pastor's porch! Yah. The pastor's porch! What a hoot!! Everyone began dancing and laughing and having a wonderful celebration of friendship. Madame and the other elder woman started dancing first, with their hands waving in the air! Then the young woman joined in...and eventually the little girls were dancing too. Of course, little Webste had to lead his posse of little boys as he rapped his way through the songs. We all just reveled in the happiness and purity and joyful love that surrounded us. A picture of heaven, I beleive. Food enough for all. Love offerings for those in most need. Dancing and laughter and thanksgiving by all ages. If that isn't heaven, I can't imagine what will be.



After many hours of celebration, we settled in for a short night's sleep. We needed to be up by 6 am in order to pack up the place and give our goodbyes and be down at the water's edge for our boat at 8. For the first night, Wendy Whiner's crying was more like a lullyby than a nuisance. I will miss her melodies in the dark of the night. Thank you Jesus for entrusting this village into our hands, if only for a few days. We are blessed. We are blessed.

(I will be posting my final blog tomorrow. Thank you for faithfulness in reading it, and your wonderful conversation as a response to it. Any of you who may be interested in joining our team next February as we move to Port Au Prince to begin work in earthquake recovery, just let me know. Drop me a line and I'll give you more info if you're interested.)

Day 10

By the time we arrived to the work site after breakfast, it was less than 24 hours till worship...and the place was a mess! The tile craftsman had nearly all the tile laid and was grouting the prior day's work. The masons had removed the forms from both columns now and had begun creating forms for the massive concrete peak they would be creating next. It was fascinating to see them create such sturdy effective forms 12' to 18' in the air with simple wood scraps and tiny tree trunks.



The day was heating up to be a scorcher, so we got to work inside the church cleaning up for Sunday worship. Some members swept the muddy, dirt covered concrete. Others wiped down the 17 wooden pews we had created on our last trip. Everything was covered with concrete dust, gravel, or mud. And all we had to do to accomplish the work, we had to find laying around the work site. I found a child's flannel shirt that worked wonders on the pews. We dipped it into a large 50 gallon drum that had caught rain water earlier in the week. By now there was scum floating on top and teenie weenie tadpoles swimming it's depths. But again, it was all we had. So, I'd dunk it into the barrel, pull up and down a few times, then wring it out before heading back into the church to wipe down another pew. The women of the village were up long before us, and already had the entire altar tile wiped down, the altar rail, lecturn (place the Word is read from), communion table, and pulpit (place messages are given from). They obviously had been working for hours before we arrived at 8 am.

After lunch we returned with several brown jersey gloves, in addition to our one small flannel shirt. The gloves could be dipped, as well, and then placed on a hand to wipe down another pew. All mud and gravel had been swept out of the sanctuary by now also, so we began to wet mop the concrete floors so the clean pews could be set back in place. Finding out no mops were to be found in the village, I went back to the house with a light bulb flashing in my head.

I grabbed one of my two towels I had brought with me to Haiti, and began to cut it into large strips. I brought along a dollar store sewing kit that contained 2" miniature doll house size pair of scissors (for a time just like this!). I don't mean 2" blades either. I mean 2" total, handles to tip! After 2 very sore fingers and about 15 minutes, the strips were complete. I grabbed a couple of hair ties and went searching for a handle. I pointed to a broom outside on the porch; a simple 1 1/2" diameter stick with dried palm leaves tied to one end. Then I took my towel strips and swooshed them back and forth along the cement, pretending to dip them in the water sitting there in a tub, and then swoosh swoosh again. Immediately the village ladies got my "lightbulb" vision and scurried about in search of the perfect mop handle. Another woman came out with a long strip of torn fabric to reinforce my hair ties. We pleated my towel strips around one end of the stick, wrapped it with hair ties, and then tightly wrapped the fabric strip around and around till the mophead was firmly secured. I was proud of my creation. So were the women, I think, as we all smiled a sense of accomplishment.

I ran back up to the church to find Milord on his hands and knees with a wet pair of men's pants in his hands, mopping the last layer of mud and concrete dust off the new floors of the church. I followed him with a wet, then a dry, mop. It was a beautiful site.



We then hand polished the new floor tile down the middle of the sanctuary, with the same small flannel shirt that helped us through all the pews. What a find! Who ever would have thought flannel was so useful! There is something spiritual about cleaning the Lord's House. It brings such joy, such sense of accomplishment and pride. He is sooo worthy! By mid afternoon we all smiled, looking across the sanctuary, the altar, and the rich golden wooden pews. Our work is done.



There is still 50 bags of concrete to use on the porch roof and additional repairs to the concrete interior and exterior church walls. Another 200 one foot tiles lay stacked in the back room, behind the altar, to be installed on the porch after all the concrete work is complete. Paint has already been purchased, as well. So even though our work is done, the people of Nan Soulette will have much more work to yet complete. But without our gift of materials, it would not be possible. We look forward to returning for a visit next year, to see all the work complete. How beautiful it will be! How worthy is our God!



On our way back from the church, we see about every piece of clothing we own, freshly washed and out hanging on the cactus to dry. The people of Haiti are so gracious. Then we get back to the house and find a gift on Jaime's bed...no, not some hand carved artifact or scrumptious food. But a warm, freshly laid egg. That's right. An egg. It seems a chicken felt comfortable enough to move around Jaime's sheet and lay an egg right in the middle of her handmade bed-nest. Go figure!



Another swim. Another incredibly deliscious meal. Another good night's sleep to local music blaring through the blackness of night. Another day in Haiti.

Day 9

Today was a much slower day than others. It was soon clear that more skilled craftsmen were needed than general laborers today. Bossman gave guidance but generally, the skilled craftsmen did their own thing.

One young man began preparation for laying the middle section of the church floor, from doors to altar, with ceramic tile. He began with a lengthy process of measuring with a string and a level. He would wrap one end of the string around a rock and then sit the rock on the new concrete on either side of the middle section. Then he would run the string across the broken chunks of concrete base to the other side where he would wrap it arounnd a second rock. He did this east to west, as well as north to south, from the door to altar. Once the string was at the height of the new concrete slabs running down either side where the pews will sit, then he laid a tile under the string at different points to determine the final level of base chunks of concrete, and newly poured concrete over top the base.



Once determined, a crew outdoors began mixing concrete again, and hauling it in by the bucket to slowly fill a small space to lay a few tiles at a time. Starting at the altar, he began placing one 12" x 12" tile at a time with a simple trowel and rubber mallet. He filled the space with wet concrete over the base, placed a tile underneath the string and then tap tap tapped with the mallet until the tile was both level and just snug under the string...over and over and over, throughout the day. We watched amazed. Precision mattered to this man.



Outdoors other craftsmen continued with their creation of forms for 2 columns that would hold up the new porch entrance to the church. With simple wooden strips the height of the column and wire bands, turned and tightened with pliers, they basically created a Roman style ribbed column. At the top and bottom were caps formed with wooden blocks with circles of varying diameters cut out the middle. After putting the entire form together, they sheered it up with an intricate structure of 3"-4" diameter tree trunks and nails. Once everything was secure from all directions, concrete was lifted by bucket loads up a primitive ladder, again made from small trees. Everything was cut down with a 15" long steel machette, a chip at a time. No sawzall or chainsaw here! I couldn't wait until the forms were removed! Just wanted to see their work inside.

With a shorter work load today, we spent a good long time in the ocean cooling down. The Haitians thought we were crazy swimming most every day in the middle of their winter. Milord, our interpreter, sat on the beach for hours, shivering, as we froliced in the waves, sun, and sand. Remember it was in the mid 90's!..and many Haitians were wearing long pants and sleeves. We wore as little as possible without being rude to their culture, and stayed wet as often as possible! Brenda Walters, a member of my church at home and chaplain for the VFW, made us all these little neck coolers that really helped. They send them to our servicemen and women in Iraq and Afghanistan to keep them cool. Some team members only wore theirs occasionally but I wore mine daily! You just dip them in water and whalla! They stay cold for hours! Wore mine around my neck, on my head, whatever it took to stay cool. :-)

We returned from our swim to the exquisite smell of seafood. One of the older children, Ralph, had proudly shown us two large crabs the night before. He had dropped them on to the front porch of the pastor's house, as we watched them run sideways in attempt to escape their fate. So it was a good guess crab was on the menu today. Cooley also saw large crawdads through a window along the path from the pastor's house to the church. Possibly they would be our dinner.

Both guesses were wrong. You cannot imagine our faces when we removed the cover to see absolutely garganuan shrimp! I mean shrimp the size of small lobsters! Cooley began to salivate at the mouth as he wiggled with excitement in his seat, in anticipation of the feast before us. Tom passed once again...no goat, no fish, no shellfish, pork or shrimp for Tom. He did his best to sustain himself on local fruits and vegetables, rice, beans, bread, and practically a jar full of peanut butter. He had no idea what he was missing! Darryl, Jerry and Cooley all declared the shrimp steaks "the best meat I have ever eaten...ever!" Both the king of France and the President of Haiti declared Joselin "cook of the year!" (Just kidding. But they should have.) We went out onto the porch with a resounding array of claps and "whoohooo's" in accolade of Joselin's incedible dinner for us. He blushed.



It was obviously the weekend, because local music blasted across our side of the mountain, well into the night. Children were scarce, as they joined in porch dancing across the village. Eventually we all fell asleep. We knew there was still much work to be done.

Final note: The twin goats found their mother early in the morning once the rains stopped. They slept all day. It was the quietest day here so far...well...until the music started...another long night.

Day 8

Today was a crazy busy day. There's a saying that goes "It takes a village to raise a child." I'll add "It takes a village to repair a church." While several of the craftsmen continued to create forms with wood, a machete, and a few nails, the rest of us poured concrete floors in the church...and I do mean the rest of us!

Out in the front yard to the church, a couple of Haitians mixed concrete with gravel and water with a shovel and the ground. They made a circle of gravel, with a circle of mortar just inside it. Once built with a good 8" to a foot thick walls, they filled the center with buckets of water gathered by local teenage girls from the valley below. They carried each 5 gallon bucket on their head. Unbelievable! So anyway, the guys simply moved the shovel into the center of the circle and back out again, kneading the three ingredients together into perfect concrete to lay a church floor. From there, all the rest of us created a bucket brigade from the concrete circle out in the yard all the way up to the church, up a ramp, over the porch, through the threshold, and then one after another after another all the way back to the altar area of the sanctuary.



Empty buckets were sent down the line from one person's hand to the next at the same time full buckets were being sent up the line to be poured onto the church floor as empty buckets were returned back down the same line as so on and so on for hours and hours, from breakfast till lunch, and from after lunch till dinner. It was exhilerating to see all we were capable of as a village working together. When our right arms got tired, we'd jump across the line facing the opposite direction in order to use the opposite arm as dominant for the full buckets and the less dominant arm for empty buckets...until they got tired again...and we'd jump across the line again, changing our direction and which arms we were using. Every other person faced the opposite direction in order to better pass a full bucket with the ease of a waltz.



By the end of the day, not only were forms made on the front porch for the new roof, but 2/3 of the sanctuary floor was new, smooth, concrete that ran in long strips from the door to the altar. The middle 1/3 was not yet laid, as that job was to wait till tomorrow when the tile craftsmen would arrive.



A hot day, well into the upper 90's with no sign of a breeze, led to a longer than normal swim in the ocean at the end of the workday. Aaaaaahhhhhhhh...you could almost hear the sizzle as our hot white bodies sank below the cool water's surface. I think I saw steam. :-)

...and then the rains came...and came...and came. We saw the storm clouds nearing as we swam. The rain was coming down over Les Cayes. I can't imagine what they did to all the tent cities along the path to Port Au Prince. The odd thing was, we could also see the storm approaching from the south, where the orphanage was. It was as though two storms were closing in on us and would meet over the Pastor's house. Sure enough. They did...yet right there in the middle, just behind us over the ocean's waves, was a double rainbow. A promise from God that when the two collide, the rains wouldn't last forever. Glad for the promise, because we surely began to wonder as the hours passed by!

Jerry said he had not seen rain like this in any of his prior 8 trips. Rather than an hour here or there, it just kept raining. Rivers began forming down the sides of the mountain, as they jotted right and left around trees, bushes, and even the pastor's house where we stayed. There is no glass in the windows here, just openings the shape of windows with wooden shutters to keep the bugs, chickens, and roosters out.



So we all hung out the windows and marveled at the monsoon coming down all around us. It was thunderous loud as the heavy rains pounded on the corrugated metal roof. Two baby goats cried out at the top of their lungs for their mommy. They could not find her for hours and hours. I believe it may have been their first hard rain. They couldn't hear her bleeting and she could not hear them over the pounding rain that fell from the heavens.

After watching Jerry and Jocelin for a couple of hours, collecting wonderful, clean rain water in any and every kind of bucket, pan, and barrel they could find, I noticed Madame in the shed with many of her grandchildren. They all lived higher up the mountain between the pastor's house and the church and when the rains came down as violently as they did, there was no way they could all get back home with the raging rivers coming at them. More likely, they would have been swept away, down to the next plateau.



Knowing they had to be driving her nuts in such close quarters for so long, I ran and got a plastic wiffle ball out of my suitcase to amuse them. Pastor's always carry wiffle balls. They teach us that in seminary. :-) Tossing it out the door of the house I was in, across the porch, over the river running down our small corner of the mountain, into the door of the shed, to one of the children. Amazingly, we only missed the catch, on either end, a few times as it plopped in one of the many buckets sitting under the eaves of either structure. Different kids took turns. I assume Madame appreciated the small diversion.

After my throwing arm became numb, I yelled across the great divide "Fini!" (finished). And they smiled. I think their arms were tired too. I thought this was as good as time as ever to get my hair washed with clean, bacteria free, God-given rain water. So I retrieved my shampoo and conditioner, as well as my towel, and bent out over the threshold of the door until my head landed directly under the eaves of the house. It was amazing how wonderful the water felt on my filthy, sweat-filled hair. We only have an opportunity for showers about once every 3 to 5 days...and we sweat hard. And that shower consists of sitting water in a barrel with a film on top. We pour a few gallons into a tin bowl and pour it over our body, with a tin cup. Did I mention it is cold water??? Brrrr..... Afterwards we still need to use alcohol based hand sanitizer on our hands and faces to help prevent any bacterias form entering our bodies.

So...fresh rain from heaven?? O yes! I think Madame and the kids thought I was crazy, but I didn't care. They watched from the door of the shed across the raging river between us. It was glorious! When I finished and tossle dried my hair with my towel, I felt like one of those Tresseme' models on T.V. selling a product for soft, tangle-free, gloriously shiny hair!

Eventually we all went to sleep...except the poor little goat twins. They continued to cry out into the night, in fear they will never see their mother again. Remember the rainbow, dear children, remember the rainbow.

Day 7

First word was a deal to rent horses. $7 US per horse or mule. We said, "Sold!" We actually gave $10 to each owner at the end of the day out of sheer appreciation. One horse and two mules began their day carting four 50 lb. bags at a time up the mountain, in two woven sacks pouches hanging down each side of the animal. The owner simply led the animal with a rope up and back down the mountain, over and over and over again. The owner also had to load and unload the pouches at each end of the mountain. They started by 9 am and continued this task in 90 degree plus sun until well after 5 pm...and all for $10. A little over a dollar per hour. Unbelievable. They were my heroes, I told the other Haitians. They didn't understand the translation at first until I said, "Like Superman, Batman, Jesus...you know, heroes...they saved the day!" They said, "Oh...like Spiderman!" Should have figured with the Haitian size spiders down here that Spiderman was their fav!

We continued to carry bags up the mountain until 11 am ourselves, just to show appreciation of their work for us. But doing that for 2 more hours compared to 2-3 more entire days, was nothing.

Jean Gary thought today would be a good day to visit the orphanage and Caille Coq Eglise Methodist Church instead of Saturday, as we had planned, because we were still waiting on other materials that will surely be here by then. Jocelyn had lunch on early and then we packed up for our day-long trek around the island. We left on foot down the northeast shore by several school houses where many children in the area attend. Jean Gary tells us he is a teacher at one of them. He took the week off to help us with the re-construction on the church. He is a lay speaker there and the work is important to him. I see Jean Gary as the next pastor of Nan Soulette, though he is still probably in his late 20's right now. He is a wise and Godly man, nonetheless. We saw a few kids along the way and they all shouted "Jean Gary!" when they saw him. You could see the pride on his face. We were proud of him also.



About 1/2 hour or so later, we started up the next mountain and left the shoreline. It was not much longer that we hit the outskirts of Madam Benard, a good size town on Ile a Vache. Soon, market place sheds and huts lined the streets. They were zigging and zagging right and left in all directions; almost a maze. Tuesdays and Thursdays are market place time, so we landed smack in the middle on a closed day. A few vendors were speckled among the hundreds of empty huts selling candy, pop, and fresh produce. We wanted a Coke in the worst way, so we began to ask and sure enough, one vendor went to his "back room" and pulled out 10 long neck bottles of Coke-a-cola...cold! It was like heaven in the midst of the 90 degree week and no refrigerators in sight. An elderly woman began pulling out chairs for us, one after another, creating a makeshift cafe just ouside the hut we purchased the coke from. We sat down, tipped up a coke and ....aaaahhhhhh! Refreshed.



Onward we traveled to the Presbyterian Catholic, Lutheran complex. Large metal gates open to a series of buildings, one after another. Over 400 kids go to school here; 100 moved from Port Au Prince due to the earthquake damage to their school there. The complex includes a trade school for older orphans, preparing them with a skill before they go off on their own. Woodworking, food services, and sewing are all within the complex. Also is the orphanage for mentally and physically handicapped orphans. Some of the children's parents died in accidents or from illness. Others could not be cared for any longer. Still others were simply abandoned. James fell into this last category. His mother left him to go get married. We don't know how long she was gone. But when she returned, not only was he emaciated from lack of food and water, but he had also fallen. She left him for good them...left him for death.

God had another plan. James has a severe brain injury and is now mentally challenged. His legs are nothing more than skin stretched over bones. His knee joint was the largest point of his legs, from where they attached to his hips to his ankles. I have never seen anything like this...ever...on television or otherwise. From his height, I would say James was about 6 or 7 years old. I could see both his lower leg bones seperately. I could see no muscle attached to those bones...none. It was like chicken wings, that part of the wing, just past the tip. Two bones. No meat. Space between with skin covering...only this wasn't a chicken wing. This was a child's leg. His knee to his hip was no different.

(pause)

I cried when I touched him. I know Jesus cried too.

(pause)

He felt smaller than the elderly women I have touched upon their death beds as I prayed over them and they breathed their last breath. I will be praying for James for a long time. I hope all of you will also. It is a matter of life or death. I pray for life. Sister Flora siad surgery was done on his head and he is eating now and growing. I can't imagine him any skinnier. James doesn't talk or even hold his head up. He simply slumps over himself in a wheelchair, tied in for safety. I told him that Jesus thought he was the most beautiful child in the entire world. I told him I thought he was too. I couldn't get myself to take a picture of him, though I surely wanted one for visual prayer. It felt like a circus show. I just couldn't do it. His image will never leave my eyes without a picture...the most beautiful child in the world. I will never forget.

A teenager with drool on her face and a foot turned on its side, played patty cake with me over and over and over again as she laughed loudly at the top of her lungs. My hands were covered in drool by the time we were done. :-) A tiny baby fell asleep in my arms as I became her grandmother, if only for a few minutes, rocking, swaying, and patting her rhythmically as I held her close to my breast. The Haitian woman who was caring for this infant now at the orphanage saw her sleeping in my arms and said "mama". She knew only a mama could put a weary baby to complete rest in just a few minutes. I smiled. Jesus smiled. We held her together.



Another young girl, maybe 3 or 4, was laid over Darryl's shoulder. He tried setting her down once but she would have nothing of it. She wanted the touch; to be held by loving arms. A few minutes later, I pried her off of him (literally) and then turned her around to my shoulder again rocking, swaying and patting as I sang "Twinkle Twinkle" to her. I was amazed just minutes later as she fell asleep also. It was then I realized I came in Christ's name. Only the peace of Christ has the power to settle a child's spirit, in a stranger's arms, like that. I have never experienced that before. A touch. A sway. A grma's heart. Asleep in Christ's arms. Peace at last. Sleep dear child. Rest. Your daddy in heaven loves you. Be well. Be well.

(pause)

We distributed hand made dolls to many of the children. Our good friends at Concord Presbyterian Church, next door to CUMC, made each one with love in their hearts. Many children instantly hugged the baby doll to their chest, even those with mental disabilities knew love when they felt it in their hands. Others held their's by an arm or leg and swayed it in the air above their heads...pure joy. It didn't matter if they were crawling along the cement floor, tied down to a wheelchair, or sitting on a wooden bench, their responses were the same. Joy. Delight. Love received. Thank you good friends whose hands sewn each stitch. Good and faithful servants.



After leaving a cash gift for food and medicine, we left the complex with heavy hearts. Cooley had tears in his eyes. Others were in complete shock. Jerry had to go outside after about a half an hour. He said it was just too much. "It always is, mom" he said. He's been coming for 10 years now. I can't imagine. The newbies had no idea children live this way. Jaime cared for them all like a pro. This was her second trip. I am glad we had an opportunity to love them today. This was my purpose. I was born for this day. Thank you Jesus for entrusting your precious very own to my loving arms. I told James he was Jesus' favorite. I meant it.

(pause...)

We headed back through the market place to hire a boat on the ocean's shore. God blessed our broken hearts with the most beautiful views of his ocean and shoreline, rock formations and billowing clouds. The water's color was somewhere between cerulean blue and and caribbean blue. It was crystal clear to the sand below. It was cool and refreshing as I dipped my hand over the edge wave after wave, pouring the refreshment over my arms, forehead and neck. God is so very good.

Quickly we arrived at Caille Coq were Jerry built his first church from ground up years ago. Pastor Pierre gave us a tour of the inside of the church. It had come a long way since laying the foundation. I asked Pastor if I could climb the steps into the tall "Wesley" pulpit several feet above the invisible congregation. He smiled and said "wi!" So I did. What fun!

We also played school in one of the many Methodist school huts around the church. It had a chalkboard and several wooden bench style desks. I pretended to teach the rest of the team some French already written on the board, as they sat at the desks. A young student peeking in through the thatched walls corrected me when I miss-pronounced a word. Obviously they are educating their children well here!



Soon we returned to the boat, as dark would soon arrive. Another deliscious meal. Another evening of language lessons, coloring books, and friends gathered. Another good night's rest after a good long day. Good night James. Jesus loves you...and so do I. Amen.

Day 6

After a day of queaziness, I begin poo-ing in the most unusual ways. (Sorry for the graphics here...) I hope it is simply my system adjusting to a new healthy diet, void of any and all preservatives and chemicals. Every meal, 3 times per day is filled with local fruits and vegetagles from mangos, bananas, pineaple and papaya, to plantain (a potato grown in a banana peel hanging on a tree...I'm serious here! Crazy), tomatoes, lettuce, and onions. In addition to these staples, each meal is either fresh fish with the heads still on (eyes poppin' out right at you), shell fish, goat or spam (yes, spam...it's like hotdogs here in the US. Cheap, easily available, protein). My salad eating, brotein bar popping, sugar addicted diet has been turned upside down, for sure.

But the work goes on! Just when you think 94 lb bags of cement is enough to carry up a mountain over tough terrain in crazy hot temps, we are told the gravel has now arrived down on the shore. Yes. I said gravel. I can only guess how many cubic foot we hauled up from the beach to the church. Let's just say this, seven of us, plus our interpreter, about six Haitian women, and at least another 10 Haitian young men hauled half full 5 gallon buckets from 8:30 am till noon non-stop. Up and back down and up and back down and up and back down the mountain. Over and over again in 90 plus degree temps. Jeremiah had so many blisters we stopped counting at 17! Jaime and I carried just 1/4 to 1/3 full buckets and it still wooped our butts! The Haitian women, from 15 to 55 year olds (1/3 my age to 10 years older!!), carried full buckets...on their heads! Over and over again! And with no hands, I might add. Did I mention this was about 1/3 mile trek up rock raveens that were spattered with tree roots and broken chunks of cacti? Did I also mention the Haitians were all barefoot? How about the fact that I wore gloves, shoes, and took breaks after every trip or two?? They took none. Unbelievable my respect for these people. And all of it was with a smile on their face. Superman's descendants, I'm telling you. Unbelievable.



By mid afternoon it was very clear we were dying. No. Really. This was killing us. I blurted out "Aren't there any horses or mules we could rent?" Sure enough, there were. I wish I would have blurted earlier! Believe it or not, the Haitians were wearing out too, so they quickly agreed to get prices for us from others on the island who owned mules and line up assistance for the next day. We smiled. And since we were now out of re-bar for the front porch of the church, our work was done for the day. We quickly headed back to the ocean for another salt bath....aaahhhhhh...paradise. And then a nap after lunch. My back was killing me...my gut was wrenching. Jerry's belly began to wrench with pain as well, as he began to make friends with the outside potty pit also. We both decided it was time to start taking an antibiotic. We are required to bring a 10 day script with us for a time like this. It was time. Jerry stayed in bed half the day. I wasn't as bad, though I lived in the potty pit most of the day.



There was one problem there. Those pesky Haitian sized cockroaches! After dark, they covered the floor and lower walls of the potty pit. And I do mean covered. Hundreds! Grossest thing I've seen in my life! Jaime would actually poo in there with them scurrying about. Me? NO WAY!! She was crazy. Well, now they were there during the day too. Jerry thought it was because of the bacteria we were poo-ing out. It attracted them. I don't know. It was just CREEPY! So I began poo-ing out behind the poo pit and covering it with large leaves. Yah. Attractive, eh? Hey, when you gotta go, you gotta go! And I had to go...alot and often. Someone must have noticed because later that day Darryl said he went in there and the cockroaches were laying on their backs with just a few here and there...and there were lots of little legs laying around the rest of the floor!!

"You've got to be kidding me!" I said.

He said, "No. I'm not kidding. I think Madame went in there and turned them all on their backs, because as soon as she came out, a bunch of chickens went running in there. I think they ate them all!"

OMGOSH! I hadn't thought about the natural food chain. You got cockroaches? Buy some chickens. They ate the entire kit and kaboodle by the end of the day. I saw one cockroach late that night and none, read my typing: NONE, the rest of our time there.

Hero of the day: Chickens!

Day 5

Before I begin the story, I must give a little preview. The name is Cooley. Cooley is a friend of my son Jerry and this is his frist trip to a third world country. He knew there wouldn't be any electricity or running water. What he didn't know was the "size" of the bugs. Back to the story.

"AAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHH!!!!!!!" A scream is heard in the black of the night. It's an hour or so after all candles were blown out and voices stopped chattering. I flew out of my room to see Cooley sitting on his cot with his mosquito net in hand...literally...instead of it hanging overhead. Usually it is duct taped to the rafters on one corner, and to the cement wall on the others. This time it was firmly in the grip on his hands instead. It seems a very large Haitian-sized cockroach had run across his face while he was sleeping. Yes, his face! And just how big is a very large Haitian-sized cockroach? Supersize. Over two inches long and about an inch wide...seriously.

To say the least, he freaked. Who could blame him. I would have freaked. But we tried to lighten the situation by calling him a girlie girl, screaming and all. Jerry assured Cooley in 10 years he had been coming to Haiti for mission work, he had never seen a cockroach on the island before. Never! It just wouldn't happen again. Freak thing. Conversation over. So we all went back to bed. I prayed for poor Cooley...but the story wasn't over...not yet anyway.



We all settled back onto our cots and eventually convinced Cooley into turning his flashlight back off. One hour passes...tic toc tic toc...

"AAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHH!!!!!!!" Cooley screams again! I'm thinking "No way! I cannot believe a second cockroach could possibly search out the same poor guy as the first!" There were 8 of us sleeping in three rooms all attached. 7 team members and our interpreter. None of us had a cockroach walk across our beds. Why Cooley? Why now? Well, I couldn't imagine it because that's not what happened. What happened was that Cooley was still awake with flashlight in hand living in a state of full paranoia, when he looks up near one corner of his net and then "AAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHH!!!!!!!"...there was a huge oversized Ile a Vache-sized spider. I'm talking 3-4" in diameter with fur, beady eyes that glow with a mere flashlight drive by, and pinchers on the front of their heads that scream right back at 'cha "Go ahead, I dare you to try and swat me!" Creepy at best. Horrifying at worst...in bed, under a net, together with one of these buggers.

Let's just say it was a llloooooooooooooonnnnggggg night for most of us, but especially for Cooley who I don't think closed his eyes again until we were all up with many new sets of protective eyes. The craziest part of this whole story is that Cooley was the only team member to bring a bed tent. Now, in places like Africa you must use a bed tent because Malaria is rampant, killing someone every 8 seconds or so. Mosquitos are certainly apparent in Haiti, and so is the Malaria they carry, but not near as bad as Africa and honestly, we are all required to be on Malaria meds for two weeks before leaving and 4 weeks after our return. So...we don't bring nets. But Cooley did. He hung it with pride the first night bragging something about how he wasn't gonna get those mosquitos, spiders or anything else crawling on him in the middle of the night! Truth? He was the only who did! Seriously. Now isn't that ironic? Don't 'cha think? (thanks for the lyrics there, Alanis Morissette...)



as well, and there is bossman #1 and #2, hammering the floor of the church. Seems it has been crumbling for some time so concrete work is concrete work. You get 7 Americans to show up willing to haul concrete up a mountain...and pay for it...they must have thought "Hey! Let"s get this floor redone while we're at it!"

Sure enough, we are breaking up the entire floor with small hand held sledge hammers, the entire floor of Nan Soulette Eglise' Methodiste Church. I'm talking about 1500 square foot of concrete here. It was a long hot morning, and honestly, we hadn't seen anything yet!



Once we were done, then we were told the cement had arrived down on the shore. Like one hundred 92 pound bags of cement had arrived, to be exact. It was brought over by the same small wooden boat we were brought in from Les Cayes, across the ocean. Glad I wasn't along for that ride! Talk about shifting your odds for sinking!! So we walked down to the shore to find sure enough, Haitian men already throwing bags on their sholders and heading back up the mountain to the church. Crazy! I'm telling you. Jaime and I could not budge even one bag between us. Our men about died the first bag they carried up. Literally. Jerry began to black out near the end of his trip up. Cooley couldn't breathe. And Darryl was glad to have our life insurance up to date. Yet Haitian man after Haitian man jogged up the mountain with a 94 lb. bag of concrete on their shoulder...while talking to one another!! Did I mention the locals are barefoot 80% of the time? The only time most of them they wear shoes really is during worship or when they visit the mainland. Did I also mention the trails up the mountain are no more than steeply angled ravines filled with limestone rocks, unearthed tree roots that bow above the earth, and dead chunks of cactus broken off bushes along both sides of the path?...in 90 plus degree direct sunlight??...barefoot????...94 lb. bags?????? I swear they aren't human. Superman's descendants maybe...but not human.



It didn't take long for the Haitians to figure out we needed help if were going to make any dent in this pile, not to mention, live long enough to do any other work in the coming days. So they whittled 2"-3" diameter poles from downed trees using huge machetes. Each set of two poles were laid side by side about a foot or so apart on the ground. Then they tossed a bag of cement over both poles perpendicular to the poles, themselves. One person walked in front of the bag of cement with a hand on each pole to the right and to the left of them and one did the same behind the bag. So simple, yet so amazing. Even Jaime and I could make it up with a bag in tow...well...if we stopped a few times along the 1/3 mile trek up the mountain. It felt like 6 miles, I swear, each time. For some reason, we also found out our hips were wider than the Haitians (could be the thousands more calories we eat per day than they do...). So anyway, if we actually held the poles beside us, the cement bag would fall through the hole in the middle and hit the ground...over and over....until the locals we were walking by in their homes were dying laughing. Quite the entertainment, for sure. So we had to attempt to hold the poles out in front of us or out behind us, rather than by each side. This shifted the weight and our muscles were screaming for relief.

After a very long and hot afternoon with just half the bags delivered to the church, we fell into the ocean, as its cool salt water wrapped around our wasted, weary American bodies. After dinner we again gathered with many of the villagers and members of the church outside the pastor's home. I brought out the coloring pages and crayons for the kids. Talk about cockroaches!! Kids scurry about this way and that when I say the word "Coloure, coloure!" While the kids color by candlelight for hours, adults sit and watch. Youth and young adults sit in small huddles with Jeremiah, Tom, Darryl and Cooley, learning new phrases as they exchanged their languages.

Soon we ventured in for our nightly devotion and prayer time, falling into bed well before 9 tonight. We swore it was past midnight. Spent. Nothing left in us to give. I think Cooley slept tonight as well...or passed out...not sure which.

Day 4

Pastor Mascary informs me the day before that I will be preaching this morning. I expected this a week from now and actually brought study material for that Sunday's lectionary gospel reading. I must admit that I did not expect to preach 3 days after arriving! I thought I would just scream...but I figured I'd leave that to Cooley (a glimpse into tomorrow's blog...we call that a cliff hanger...)

But I am a preacher, so preach I will. I looked up today's lectionary gospel reading and sure enough it was Luke 15.1-3, 11-31, or better known as the prodigal son. I preached on the idea of the story really being about the prodigal father, the father who gave foolishly his love away, rather than the son who gave foolishly his money and dignity away. I was able to give my own testimony as a prodigal daughter who God also gave foolishly to. It was a truly familiar text that I had thought much about in the past so it wasn't as bad as I thought it would be with such short notice. I was glad Milord was now with us, as he did his best to interpret my message to the people of Nan Soulette in their native language. I would say a phrase, then Milord would say a phrase. Then me again and then him again. I couldn't have done it without him.

Worship was loud and joyful, as always in Haiti! Service lasted 2 hours without feeling half that. Everyone sang with excitement and a sense of priviledge to be able to worship our Lord. Madame, pastor's wife, danced and danced as she sang from the top of her lungs. She raised both her hands into the air as she praised God throughtout worship. I asked pastor how old he was this year. He said, "77 but I don't look it, do I?!" I smiled. He worshipped with energy and excitement, as well.



The young men kept rhythms on the old beat up drum, older boys tapped on the outside rim of the same drum with sticks found in the yard, and little boys clicked small rocks together learning new rhythms all at the same time. It was amazing to see and hear. The hymns were the same as our hymnal, but with French words. So many tunes were familiar. It was comforting to see our Methodist connection at work.

After worship and lunch, we enjoyed another swim in the ocean. We were spoiled, for sure. We also moved some rocks in preparation for Monday's work. A huge pit was dug in the limestone behind the church. I am not sure what they will fill it with. It seems very dangerous with all the kids running around. But young men were in it with large steel picks, hitting the walls and floor until large chunks broke off. Then they would load up 5 gallon buckets, as young men up above pulled up rope tied to the bucket's handle. After emptying the rocks and loose powder away from the edge of the pit, then the bucket would be lowered again. The process went on and on and on. By the time they were done, the pit was approximately 10' x 12' by 14' deep...by hand...hewn out of solid limestone...with no power tools. I can't imagine how long they had been working on it. Incredible.



Usually no work is done on the weekends, but they knew it was needed to be ready for bossman returning on Monday...and it was for the Lord, so a little (Ha!) work in the afternoon was not so bad. We were also able to get in a siesta before dinner. Ahhhhh...

Another evening of friends talking, teens sharing language lessons, children coloring with crayons, and elders quietly watching over them all with smiles on their faces while sitting in the dark of the night. Many stars pierced the sky...but nothing like the real screams that pierced the night ahead...

Day 3

Today we woke up to wonderful smells from the dining room by 5:30 am. Breakfast was on by 6 and we were quickly reminded how wonderful, wholesome, and tasty the food was here. Fresh mango, spicey peanut butter, pineapple juice freshly squeezed, and miniature plump and sweet bananas. All fresh. All good. Fresh eggs from the chickens running in and out of our rooms. Makes you laugh to realize just how "local" the produce really is here! Ha!

We were told at 8 am that the bossman had been waiting for us up at the church. They had never worked on a Saturday here before so we felt foolish not going directly after breakfast like we would on a weekday. I bet they thought we only came for a vacation!

Still no interpreter and there were two bossmen this time. One was bending some small steel rod with a form made of nails pounded into a rough piece of wood nailed between two tree branches about waist high. Hundreds of rectangles were made by simply bending the steel rod around the nails, in a pattern, turning and bending again, turning, and so on until the proper shape was complete.

The other boss was sitting on the bent grass with a limestone rock between his spread eagle legs. He would lay a 12 to 14 foot length of re-rod on the stone and then hit it just 2 or 3 times with a small sledge hammer and a chisel. Amazingly, he cut through 3/4 of the re-rod with just those few hits, and then would bend it back and forth once, as it snapped. Looked so easy till we tried it. I hit my finger about the sixth swing! OUCH!! Right above the first knuckle on my pointer finger. It swelled like a gumball under the skin and bruised almost instantly. Jeremiah tried next. Same outcome. Swing after swing after swing, then bend after bend after bend...nothing. You'd think it was steel or something! Ha! Then Cooley took the helm and did well. It was much harder than it appeared. It took a lot of core strength and coordination, of which neither I have!

Soon we were ready to assemble corner structers for the new porch. Four re-rods with the rectangles made of bent steel rod slide over the structure about every 8" apart down the entire length of the re-rod. We used small wire, 6" lengths, to tie each rectangle to each corner of the re-rod. We worked on these till lunch in 90 degree direct sunshine. All were toasty pink when we returned. A few already had blisters forming. No more work till Monday now. The concrete had not yet arrived by boat...nor had the interpreter.

So we refreshed in the ocean for a couple of hours, relaxing uner swaying palm trees on the pale white sand. A luxary down here on a work trip. Last time we only had this opportunity once. We didn't know when the next opportunity would arise. Sheer paradise...and to think just a couple hours away is such devastation. It's easy to forget that.



Our interpreter Milord arrived in the afternoon. We were thrilled!!! Yes, because we were living in a foreign land with not much communication happening...but even more so because our good friend had been greatly missed in our lives since we last worked with him. We talked much the rest of the day as more and more and more villagers came to sit around the pastor's yard and visit. Several were singing hymns together, others were talking in small groups about the "blanc" (white people), and the children were all laid out on the cement porch coloring on the pages we brought with us. An old tradition I had started during my last visit. Their faces beamed with joy with so many coloures in their hands!



Another day. Another night. Some rain early morning....and then...Day 4 came in with a scream!!!

Day 1

The day was long with much of it sitting in airports. Arrived in Port Au Prince with a different Haiti in sight. What used to be a vision of open expanse and desolation at the airport, was now a hustling, bustling organism of international travel. Large airplanes from Canada to America sat side by side along the tarmac. There were private planes, small jets, and cargo planes as well.

The new terminal skyway was complete and without damage. When we were last here, construction had begun, but was at a standsill. Memories of a single room with customs, immigration, baggage and ticket sales all within 1000 sq. ft. has now been expanded to a warehouse size pole building with many lines for each department. It was very clear that the world had found Haiti! As devastating as the earthquake has been, out of the rumble comes hope for a nation that seemed invisible for so long.

The drive to the guest house was much longer than ususal due to being re-routed around the outskirts of Port Au Prince. Even there, destruction was apparent. buidlings tipped sideways, walls collapsed, cracks and shifted plates of concrete here, there, and everywhere along the now hour-long route.

Tent city after tent city grew out of the landscape all along the route. What is amazing is the resilience of the people. People are everywhere selling their wares on the streets as normal. Traffic remains chaos, beeping horns in a symphony of language known only to the locals.

Darkness falls and we soon reach the guest house of the Eglise Methodiste Church De'Haiti. Medical teams from Flint to Cincinnati are waiting there. Dinner was held until we arrived. It is now 7 pm and we have been traveling since 1:30 am. Donnette, the Guest House director welcomes us and shows us our rooms. Then she hurries us back to the community room for dinner. I'm sure the others are glad we finally arrived so they could eat dinner as well.

After dinner we wash up, change sweaty shirts, and gather up to meet with district superintendent Pastor Marco Depestre. He shares our itinerary for the next day of travel and them updates us on how the Methodist church is surviving after the earthquake. A list of priorities has been formed for repair and reconstruction. Churches, district offices, schools, and clinics are all on the list. We say our farewells and then gather for devotions. After sharing what each brings to the team, we pray God's strength and purpose be done. We settle into bed for a good 8 hours sleep. The two hours from the night before are long gone.

Day 2

Up at 6 am, dressed, packed, eat breakfast and load the truck. Donette yells at us several times because she doesn't want us to miss the bus to Port Au Prince. This was the drive we were waiting for on one hand, and dreading on the other. What does death smell like anyway? Do we even want to know? Will we cry or will our stomach wrench with anxiety? The truck begins it's journey into the heart of PaP. We watch with horror.

(pause)

It is hard to see entire buildings collapsed on themselves and not think of the people underneath the rubble. Mothers and grandmothers, brothers and uncles, teens and little children...all gone. One half hour of driving in the city and the landscape repeats itself over and over. Finally we speak what is on everyone's mind. It is not as bad as we anticipated, if you can believe that. Don't get me wrong. Thousands of buildings are damaged or destroyed...but inbetween are standing buildings...and people are sweeping the streets and carrying large chunks of concrete by wheelbarrow to piles of debris that line the streets. Death is in the air, but so is hope.

Tap Taps (small busses covered in brightly painted sheet metal...like professional graphitti on the go!) scurry by at a constant rate with phrases about Jesus everywhere. "Jesus Seoul Savioure" is repeated over and again. Jesus only saves. Others just say "Jesus Seoul" (Jesus only), "Moi Jesus" (my Jesus), or "Merci Jesus" (Thank you Jesus). It is painted permanently on windshields, back windows, or doors of the Tap Taps with prominence.

Produce lines the streets with bananas, mangos, papaya, and sugar cane. Products from used tires, to clothing, to packaged foods, to sunglasses and purses are also there. A band of more than 100 come marching by the bus station with instruments in hand, as we wait for our bus to Les Cayes. They are playing gay music and carrying flowers. At first we think it is a funeral, but all have matching white shirts with Creole printed across the chest. We have not yet met up with our interpreter, so we do not know what it says. I think it was just a band of hope, a band of cheer, a band of joy for everyone on the streets. I smiled.

Just then the bus loads and an over 4 hour journey to Les Cayes begins. We are pleasantly surprised that the bus has air conditioning! Another new amenity since our last trip in 2008. With temps well over 90, it is a nice surpise. Pastor Depestre said the epicenter of the quake was about 25 kilometers south of PaP. We found it.

(pause)

Gut wrenching. Block after block after block flattened, literally...nothing but concrete rubble...and lost lives...for miles.

(pause)

The military is here digging a well, setting up tent cities for refuge to mourning survivors. The next hour of the trip is the worst. So many homeless. So many lives lost. It feels like we are in a war zone. I suppose we are. A war between man and nature. Nature thinks it can declare itself the winner. The people of Haiti disagree.

Once arriving in Les Cayes, only half our luggage would fit in our shuttle car from the bus to the boat at the dock. We regretfully had to split the team and leave half our luggage, and team, behind. We have never been put in that position before. But two trips later we were all reunited at the dock. The dock was just as I had remembered it, full of filth, waste, pollution and people. Sheer chaos.

Soon we loaded up into our small wooden boat and headed across the ocean for an hour long trip. Our interpreter never showed, so we left with anxiety of how we would communicate once we arrived. The ocean was much more fierce than usual, and the boat violently smacked the waves over and over again across the hour plus ride to the island. It surely felt as though the small boat lined with fiberglass would split in half. Newbies were amazed a simple blue tarp would be all that stood between us, our luggage, and the ocean's splashing waves.

Anticipation arose as the shore was in sight. Friends gathered, men, women, and children. Familiar faces: Jean Gary, Pastor Mascary, Dino, Ralph, just a few. We settled in for a deliscious dinner, comfortable cots, and small talk with those gathered. We couldn't communicate more than nicities such as "a-lo" (hello), "bonswa" (good afternoon), "pase bon we" (good night) and the like. We pray our interpreter will show early the next day. As for now, no more boats are coming across the ocean today.

The goats are crying in the night. The rooster is already practicing his wake up call. Chickens are in and out of our rooms. And the first Haitian size spider has already been spotted on our bedroom wall. Ahhhh...paradise.

Settling in our room, the roosters and chickens began welcoming us, as well. This one jumped in the window to say "Hello!"