Listening to Matt Redman sing "Blessed be the Name" this morning, I just wept and wept over the resiliency of the Haitian spirit. I am so challenged. The reports coming out of Haiti are that still, weeks later, the days and nights are filled with praise and beautiful deep worship. Like the Sufferer of the Old Testament, they are a nation of Jobs. Everything is gone: family, possessions, health, safety, the very ground beneath their feet is no longer a trusted friend. (I have thought numerous times since I have returned from the initial days of the quake, how unreliable even the earth is...sometimes it shakes and there's no place to hide.) Everyone has lost someone, something and collectively, a price could never be placed on the great and utter loss. Like Job, they have chosen to say, " 'Naked I came from my mother's womb, and naked I will depart, the Lord gave and the Lord has taken away; may the name of the Lord be praised.' In all this, Job did not sin by charging God with wrongdoing." (Job 1:21-22)
"Blessed be Your name, in the land that is plentiful, where your streams of abundance flow, when the sun's shining down on me when the world's all as it should be, every blessing You pour out I'll turn back to praise" - this is easy. We naturally want to give thanks and praise.
"Blessed by Your name, when I'm found in the desert place, though I walk through the wilderness, on the road marked with suffering, though there's pain in the offering, when the darkness closes in, still I will say 'blessed be Your name' " - I am so challenged, it punches me in the gut; I've failed here many times in much lesser crises.
"You give...and take away; my heart will choose to say, Lord, blessed be Your name."
It is the Holy Spirit of God within them that rises up and gives strength. He is the Comforter. The Great Physician. The One who is closer than a brother. If we could see with spiritual eyes, we would see all over the nation, Jesus holding little ones, mothers, fathers, sisters, brothers, pastors, friends, leaders and peasants, the elderly...holding them and comforting them and giving them great peace.
This is the kind of correspondence that I regularly receive from Pastor Val: "We appreciate your great love manifested toward us in Haiti working hard to lift up this country naturally and spiritually. I am very thankful to you and to all of those who are helping you making it possible to accomplish that great job.Thank you so much for your help, love and prayers, my greetings and thanks to all the sponsors; the children are fine and we are praying for you all. We love you."
I think if I were the suffering one, I'd be sending desperate emails full of prayer requests and for needed things. But he just plugs along, never having become accustomed to comfort, and never having developed expectations of plenty. He has always seemed so thankful for whatever God provides, and he has frequently said to us, "Let's just see what the Lord will do!"
I want to live my life that way. Just simplify everything, and detach myself from the entanglements of abundance. How do you do that when you live in America? It's like survivor guilt of a different kind. Must we lose everything, like Job? Perhaps, but I doubt we'd respond the same way. We need to learn from those who have nothing. Jesus said, "how hard it is for a rich man to enter the kingdom of Heaven." We have no idea...
Tuesday, February 23, 2010
Tuesday, February 16, 2010
Earthquake - Day Five
We knew that we had to get up early and meet at the home of the MFI pilots, so we scrambled out of bed. I think I finally slept a few hours, which I was very thankful for. Steve was up early making eggs and bacon! What a glorious aroma! And his coffee was strong and black and it rivaled a good cappucino.
It had been decided in the night that Ruth and the children would go with us, and that we would help them get to her mother's home in Kentucky. It would be a tearful morning for them as they had to say goodbye to dad and husband for an indefinite period of time. The children would probably finish the school year in the States.
We gathered up the fraction of luggage we had come with, lightened by donations of clothing, shoes, books, journals and medicines, packed ourselves into the truck again, and headed to Quisqueya for a last goodbye. Then off for a quick drive to the airport. At seven in the morning, the traffic was manageable. We drove through the streets we had been on the night before and saw more of the new normal for the Haitian people. Awful. Clean up efforts were beginning; people were standing patiently in line for water; tent cities were growing. We even saw some boys bathing in a puddle. And someone washing their car...what?
We arrived at the MAF gate at 7:30 or so, and got our things inside. The Hersey's had a tough goodbye, and then we gathered together inside the terminal. There was another short-term missions team inside. They had been staying at Villa Ormiso, where we had stayed in 2007 with
the family. Their compound was undamaged, except the wall around the compound. It was demolished. There is a swimming pool there and I listened as they described what happened to the water inside when the EQ struck. "It rose up and then came down with a huge splash and went all over, sloshing around violently." Villa Ormiso is in Carrefour which was where the heaviest damage was. Pastor Val also lives in Carrefour.
We stood around the airport for a few hours talking with the other groups
that were there. Apparently the plane was in Haitian airspace but couldn't get clearance for landing. (We found out later that they had only been cleared to land in Cap Haitian, went for it anyway in hopes that they could just come on to PAP, and that is exactly what happened.) Around eleven, we finally got a glimpse of our evacuation plane: a beautiful white turbo-prop, with "Hendrick Motorsports" emblazoned on the tail, alongside a checkered flag!
The plane's cargo was unloaded: boxes and boxes of medical supplies, and some relief workers. I saw the familiar orange logo of World Vision on a hat of one man. I knew my daughter Abby's boss was coming as photographer for WV, so I wondered if it was him. I asked him if his name was Jon, but it wasn't. He was Max, the logistics director for WV, and we had a nice talk while we waited to board. I told him everything I knew, contacts I had, phone numbers, emails, etc. in hopes of helping him get a head start on his job. What did I know??
Security was loose. A pilot gathered all 45 of our passports, whisked them away somewhere and came back with them stamped for exiting the country. I guess they waved that $40 exit tax this time. When it was time to "inspect" our luggage, we each opened our suitcases and pretty much
just checked each other's. They loaded them on a cart and took them to the plane's belly. Linda, Lisa and Julia walked with great satisfaction toward the plane while I hung back and recorded it all on "film." Just as we got to the stairs, we saw it - a huge scale. The night before we were all dying a thousand deaths, as we had to give our exact weight, no exaggerating, to Wayne so that they could calculate weight for this small-ish plane. Humility. Now, here at the very end of our journey, we had to get on a scale again?? But we ended up having a good laugh with the crew, as they saw the shock and fear on our faces and assured us we didn't have to weigh in. Praise God.
It was a warm welcome we felt on that plane. Becky the only flight attendant seemed s
o happy to have us aboard. We all got settled in and the plane taxied down to the runway. As the plane lifted into the air, we saw the tents of journalists and military personnel set up in neat rows on the grounds of the airport. Farther out, we saw the ruins Port au Prince from the air, not unlike ancient ruins from some Roman or Greek civilization. Crumbles. Tent cities. We snapped pictures.
I felt saddened to leave. At that moment I really wanted to stay. I know that we were a burden; we had no place to stay, we had to drink their water, eat their food. But my heart was eternally linked to this country now, having gone through the first days of the tragedy with them. Tears filled my eyes.
Becky welcomed us onboard. She brought us Pepsi and Nabs, a taste of NC. We chatted with each other, and went forward and told our tales to the crew members who had joined us in the cabin. They were so interested in each of our stories, and listened with rapt attention. One of the MFI pilots, who was the liaison between Hendricks Motorsports and MFI, asked me my maiden name. He had been flying for 27 years and when I told him I was a former teacher at Quisqueya, he said he surely had delivered my mail. He remembered my name, and the names of my friends and roommates!
In an hour or so, we began our descent into Exuma, Bahamas. I'm not sure why we stopped there. I thought we had to clear customs or something; we didn't notice any re-fueling, and we didn't get off the plane. We were just there for about 15 minutes, and then took off again. The water beneath us was such a gorgeous blue-green. A true aquamarine.
As we drew closer to the US, our conversations deepened to the things of God. Many questions were to come, much sorting out of Divine intervention, the free will of man, the plan of God, the role of suffering. We all walk in sort of the shadows of truth, seeing glimpses of the light from time to time. So much to learn on this journey. So much farther to go.
We landed in Ft. Pierce, FL on a windy afternoon. At the bottom of the stairs, I kissed my fingertips and touched the ground. It was good to be back on American soil. Our flag blew fiercely in the stiff wind, what a beautiful sight.
The little airport surprisingly had passport control and a customs official. We completed our forms and passed through to the United States of America. Our bags went through a proper inspection, complete with an x-ray.
And there was Wayne. Wayne had flown to Ft. Pierce to do battle with MFI for our evacuation. We told him we all had a crush on him now! He loaded our bags into the rented SUV, and then - left. No one knew where he went. We all just stood around for about 30 minutes wondering what happened to our plan. :) Oh, Wayne.
After outfitting the Herseys with warmer clothing that Wayne had shopped for himself, we drove an hour or so to Orlando. We snapped a photo of the four of us at the airport and said goodbye to Julia, who was staying behind for the night. The Fantastic Four, someone called us.
Rush, rush, into the airport, our flight was boarding within the hour. We were famished, so we quickly consumed Nathan's hot dogs and fruit salad. Ruth, Sebastian, and Suzanna were with us and we helped them board. On to Atlanta, where we would say goodbye to Ruth and press what cash we had left into her hands. We boarded our plane for RDU, I was started to drag. Here at the very end of our long journey, I wasn't sure if I had the wits about me to greet the media we knew were waiting for us in Raleigh. I pulled myself together and got onboard.
Of course, we were all three sitting at the back of the plane and there was a delay in leaving. We tried to get our seats changed, but there was no way. We talked about what we were going to say to the cameras. Kirk had arranged for all the local TV stations to be there as well as the News and Observer. When we landed at RDU, I texted Kirk and told him we were the last ones off the plane. He said there was a huge crowd waiting for us. After one last stop in the ladies' room - trying to look some semblance of "good" for what we knew would be on television - we emerged from the secure area.
A large crowd with signs, flowers and cameras met us. My daughter, Jessie dropped her sign and rushed into my arms. We both fell into hysterical crying. All the stress pent up for those five days was released in a rush of emotion. Then my son, Jon grabbed me in a tearful and strong hug. Then my wonderful husband, my hero, embraced me long and hard. Then my dear mother. Then friend after friend. The cameras were patient, waiting to ask their questions and film their story.
We stayed there for almost an hour, each of us telling our story over and over again to friends and strangers. All those thoughts we gathered on the plane? Nowhere to be found...we just freely talked of God's provision, the beautiful Christian spirit of unity and generosity we witnessed, the miracles we observed and were a part of. The questions came and we answered.
We gathered in a circle and our pastor, Taylor prayed a prayer of thanks for a safe return.
Home by 1 am, dropped into that soft, amazing bed and slept like a rock.
It had been decided in the night that Ruth and the children would go with us, and that we would help them get to her mother's home in Kentucky. It would be a tearful morning for them as they had to say goodbye to dad and husband for an indefinite period of time. The children would probably finish the school year in the States.
We gathered up the fraction of luggage we had come with, lightened by donations of clothing, shoes, books, journals and medicines, packed ourselves into the truck again, and headed to Quisqueya for a last goodbye. Then off for a quick drive to the airport. At seven in the morning, the traffic was manageable. We drove through the streets we had been on the night before and saw more of the new normal for the Haitian people. Awful. Clean up efforts were beginning; people were standing patiently in line for water; tent cities were growing. We even saw some boys bathing in a puddle. And someone washing their car...what?
We arrived at the MAF gate at 7:30 or so, and got our things inside. The Hersey's had a tough goodbye, and then we gathered together inside the terminal. There was another short-term missions team inside. They had been staying at Villa Ormiso, where we had stayed in 2007 with
the family. Their compound was undamaged, except the wall around the compound. It was demolished. There is a swimming pool there and I listened as they described what happened to the water inside when the EQ struck. "It rose up and then came down with a huge splash and went all over, sloshing around violently." Villa Ormiso is in Carrefour which was where the heaviest damage was. Pastor Val also lives in Carrefour.We stood around the airport for a few hours talking with the other groups
that were there. Apparently the plane was in Haitian airspace but couldn't get clearance for landing. (We found out later that they had only been cleared to land in Cap Haitian, went for it anyway in hopes that they could just come on to PAP, and that is exactly what happened.) Around eleven, we finally got a glimpse of our evacuation plane: a beautiful white turbo-prop, with "Hendrick Motorsports" emblazoned on the tail, alongside a checkered flag!The plane's cargo was unloaded: boxes and boxes of medical supplies, and some relief workers. I saw the familiar orange logo of World Vision on a hat of one man. I knew my daughter Abby's boss was coming as photographer for WV, so I wondered if it was him. I asked him if his name was Jon, but it wasn't. He was Max, the logistics director for WV, and we had a nice talk while we waited to board. I told him everything I knew, contacts I had, phone numbers, emails, etc. in hopes of helping him get a head start on his job. What did I know??
Security was loose. A pilot gathered all 45 of our passports, whisked them away somewhere and came back with them stamped for exiting the country. I guess they waved that $40 exit tax this time. When it was time to "inspect" our luggage, we each opened our suitcases and pretty much
just checked each other's. They loaded them on a cart and took them to the plane's belly. Linda, Lisa and Julia walked with great satisfaction toward the plane while I hung back and recorded it all on "film." Just as we got to the stairs, we saw it - a huge scale. The night before we were all dying a thousand deaths, as we had to give our exact weight, no exaggerating, to Wayne so that they could calculate weight for this small-ish plane. Humility. Now, here at the very end of our journey, we had to get on a scale again?? But we ended up having a good laugh with the crew, as they saw the shock and fear on our faces and assured us we didn't have to weigh in. Praise God.It was a warm welcome we felt on that plane. Becky the only flight attendant seemed s
o happy to have us aboard. We all got settled in and the plane taxied down to the runway. As the plane lifted into the air, we saw the tents of journalists and military personnel set up in neat rows on the grounds of the airport. Farther out, we saw the ruins Port au Prince from the air, not unlike ancient ruins from some Roman or Greek civilization. Crumbles. Tent cities. We snapped pictures.I felt saddened to leave. At that moment I really wanted to stay. I know that we were a burden; we had no place to stay, we had to drink their water, eat their food. But my heart was eternally linked to this country now, having gone through the first days of the tragedy with them. Tears filled my eyes.
Becky welcomed us onboard. She brought us Pepsi and Nabs, a taste of NC. We chatted with each other, and went forward and told our tales to the crew members who had joined us in the cabin. They were so interested in each of our stories, and listened with rapt attention. One of the MFI pilots, who was the liaison between Hendricks Motorsports and MFI, asked me my maiden name. He had been flying for 27 years and when I told him I was a former teacher at Quisqueya, he said he surely had delivered my mail. He remembered my name, and the names of my friends and roommates!
In an hour or so, we began our descent into Exuma, Bahamas. I'm not sure why we stopped there. I thought we had to clear customs or something; we didn't notice any re-fueling, and we didn't get off the plane. We were just there for about 15 minutes, and then took off again. The water beneath us was such a gorgeous blue-green. A true aquamarine.
As we drew closer to the US, our conversations deepened to the things of God. Many questions were to come, much sorting out of Divine intervention, the free will of man, the plan of God, the role of suffering. We all walk in sort of the shadows of truth, seeing glimpses of the light from time to time. So much to learn on this journey. So much farther to go.
We landed in Ft. Pierce, FL on a windy afternoon. At the bottom of the stairs, I kissed my fingertips and touched the ground. It was good to be back on American soil. Our flag blew fiercely in the stiff wind, what a beautiful sight.
The little airport surprisingly had passport control and a customs official. We completed our forms and passed through to the United States of America. Our bags went through a proper inspection, complete with an x-ray.
And there was Wayne. Wayne had flown to Ft. Pierce to do battle with MFI for our evacuation. We told him we all had a crush on him now! He loaded our bags into the rented SUV, and then - left. No one knew where he went. We all just stood around for about 30 minutes wondering what happened to our plan. :) Oh, Wayne.
After outfitting the Herseys with warmer clothing that Wayne had shopped for himself, we drove an hour or so to Orlando. We snapped a photo of the four of us at the airport and said goodbye to Julia, who was staying behind for the night. The Fantastic Four, someone called us.
Rush, rush, into the airport, our flight was boarding within the hour. We were famished, so we quickly consumed Nathan's hot dogs and fruit salad. Ruth, Sebastian, and Suzanna were with us and we helped them board. On to Atlanta, where we would say goodbye to Ruth and press what cash we had left into her hands. We boarded our plane for RDU, I was started to drag. Here at the very end of our long journey, I wasn't sure if I had the wits about me to greet the media we knew were waiting for us in Raleigh. I pulled myself together and got onboard.
Of course, we were all three sitting at the back of the plane and there was a delay in leaving. We tried to get our seats changed, but there was no way. We talked about what we were going to say to the cameras. Kirk had arranged for all the local TV stations to be there as well as the News and Observer. When we landed at RDU, I texted Kirk and told him we were the last ones off the plane. He said there was a huge crowd waiting for us. After one last stop in the ladies' room - trying to look some semblance of "good" for what we knew would be on television - we emerged from the secure area.
A large crowd with signs, flowers and cameras met us. My daughter, Jessie dropped her sign and rushed into my arms. We both fell into hysterical crying. All the stress pent up for those five days was released in a rush of emotion. Then my son, Jon grabbed me in a tearful and strong hug. Then my wonderful husband, my hero, embraced me long and hard. Then my dear mother. Then friend after friend. The cameras were patient, waiting to ask their questions and film their story.
We stayed there for almost an hour, each of us telling our story over and over again to friends and strangers. All those thoughts we gathered on the plane? Nowhere to be found...we just freely talked of God's provision, the beautiful Christian spirit of unity and generosity we witnessed, the miracles we observed and were a part of. The questions came and we answered.
We gathered in a circle and our pastor, Taylor prayed a prayer of thanks for a safe return.
Home by 1 am, dropped into that soft, amazing bed and slept like a rock.
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