Progress!

Ahhh...5 am and my head is finally hitting the pillow after 24 hours. What a way to wrap up an incredible week in Haiti. My friend, Stacey and I covered quite a few square miles on this trip, and in typical fashion, there was never a dull moment. Visiting Pastor Val and the children at Val Children's Home Care, ended up being just a small part of the trip. There are many people sitting up and taking notice of Haiti right now, and we were in the midst of it. Every day was full of interesting and diverse experiences:

• Monday - travel day, awesome reunion with our hosts, with some Japanese curry for dinner. The children both gave up their rooms for us, so we each had our own bed; such a blessing.
• Tuesday - Met Jean Marc Zamor, Regent University PhD candidate and Haitian pastor. He took us to a beautiful spot near the Dominican border to see the 200 acres where he is building Haiti Providence University. The first building is well under way. It is very exciting to see such great faith; such a huge undertaking and funded largely by Haitian churches!
• Wednesday - I spoke at the chapel service at Quisqueya Christian School, telling them my story about the earthquake, and encouraging the teens to seek out their own relationship with Christ. There are many students there now that are not necessarily from Christian families. After, I took Stacey up to a lovely spot called Boutellier on a mountain overlooking Port au Prince, and then up to the Baptist Haiti Mission for lunch and some shopping. We met a two-month old whose mama was in the hospital with TB, and the missionary that brought them in from the mountains. Had dinner with Junior and Joyce and mapped out the rest of our week.
• Thursday - Off to the beach for a day. It's important to me to show people this wonderful side of Haiti. Stacey's commentary: "This would be a great place for a vacation!"
• Friday - We met with Anne, Miselene's aunt, in St. Marc and she led us to Hatte in the Artibonite Valley to see her village and meet her family. Miselene is the little girl that came to the US for treatment at a local hospital for cancer...she has recently passed away after a real battle for her life but we wanted to stay in contact with her family. This is the area where the heaviest concentration of cholera was. After a dusty hour-long ride through rice fields, we arrived at the most impoverished village I have ever seen: no one had shoes, filthy and sick children, no livestock, not even a chicken, etc. We gathered in a room with the patriarch, Anne's father, and his 11 children and grandchildren - about 60 people in all. As the day went on, we learned that some men had come and stolen their land and livestock last year, ran the local pastor and school headmaster out of town, and they are really vulnerable. We also discovered that the patriarch was the local witch doctor and our meeting was held in a voodoo temple! There was demon-possessed woman in our midst who became a little violent with a stick and a rock while we were praying for the children. They call her "Cholera." We gave some money to Anne to buy some food and to give them some ability to get started again. Junior will follow-up with them.
  
• Saturday - We met with Pastor Val and went to his orphanage outside of Leogane. The kids had a little program prepared and sang for us, and one of the songs was about preventing cholera! We hung out there for a few hours, painted fingernails again, played with matchbox cars and bubbles and then went back to the guest house. The little houses we bought are up and occupied, and life is returning to a new normal there. Everyone is happy and healthy...such a different atmosphere from the day before. Construction on a new dormitory and church are underway, and plans for a new school, a food depot, a bakery and other development work are moving along as well.
  

• Sunday - We attended the 4.5 hour church service at the orphanage, with about 75 people in attendance. All of us preached. We were encouraged to see people of all ages, both men and women and their children there. There were several young men in their twenties that Pastor Val is mentoring. They have even planted a church even farther up in the mountains, about a one-hour walk from Pastor Val's place. There was a man in the church who is 109 years old and has been with Pastor Val for over 40 years. His name is Constant (appropriate!) and when I asked him what the secret to a long life is, he said, "Keep God in your heart!" We hiked up the hills behind the site, and had a lovely day, heading back to PAP in the evening.

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• Monday - Before heading to the airport, we hooked up with a missionary that is working with a coop of coffee growers and got some unroasted beans to bring back. We are hoping to partner with these people to begin some coffee exportation, supporting the farmers of Haiti and creating much needed jobs. We also had an interesting conversation with a little boy who has been kidnapped twice! Very interesting story...We departed PAP at noon on Monday.
  

We also were able to talk with Pastor Val about some other plans for growing the local economy. We discussed a plan to provide grants for a motorcycle taxi business for the men in his church. (This is the most practical mode of transport in the rural areas, and is a growing opportunity for men who need to provide for their families.) We also discussed plans for a school building. He has 350 children attending school on his compound, but they are meeting under trees in makeshift tents and areas. He could take many more kids, if there was space. We saw a building that could be put together very quickly, very inexpensively that would accommodate so many, and he really liked it. So fundraising will begin for those two projects immediately. We need about $5K for the motorcycle endeavor (which will be reinvested in motorcycles over and over again) and approximately $60K for the school.

To top off the week, almost as if God wanted to show off, I struck up a conversation with a man in the PAP airport Monday morning who is a pastor in the US, but is part of the church on Delmas 9 that took care of us the night of the earthquake! He recognized people in my photos, and knows Pastor Val! It was amazing. God is amazing.

So thank you, thank you for your prayers and support. Stacey had a great time, we stayed safe and healthy, made some great connections, and serious progress on the things God has put on our plate. It is so exciting to see God at work; I feel like I'm sitting on the front row!

One Year

It's been one year today. You'll see it all over the news. That is a bit comforting, to know that it's not just me and those others that were in Haiti on January 12 last year that are still remembering. I remember thinking at the moment of the earthquake that it wouldn't even make the evening news in America. But I was wrong. The whole world turned its attention to this little Caribbean nation, and the whole world watched their remarkable response to tragedy: they lifted their hands and their voices to God, in worship and prayer. I spent a sleepless night on a soccer field with 2000 of them as they led us in a stunning symphony of prayer, praise, worship, scripture quotation and tears. One lady standing nearby must have been their worship leader, because her voice was so pure, so strong, so tireless. She sang for hours. When one group's praying quieted, another group picked up with a song. When they grew silent, someone started to quote Psalms. We heard Psalm 121 repeatedly. "I will lift up my eyes to the hills, where does my help come from? My help comes from the Lord, the Maker of Heaven and Earth."

The lap of the Father.

One year later, what are my thoughts? It's only 8 in the morning, so I have yet to get through much of the day, but so far mostly tears, sadness, grief for the losses. Tears of thankfulness for my own safety of the safety of those I know. Tears of gratitude to be home with my loved ones. Lots of tears. These tears have made their appearance many times over the past year. At first, I was waking up in the night sobbing uncontrollably, and finding myself in the middle of my day having to stop and go be alone to cry for a while. And I found I couldn't get through a single worship service at church, when everyone was singing of the goodness of God, worshiping Him...it was too tender of a spot in my heart. I had truly tasted a mere sip of the glories of the presence of God and it overwhelmed me. As the year went on, I found I had to restrain my heart from going too close. I didn't like that feeling of having to hold back from experiencing God.

So this morning, I let it flow. Listening to music written by anointed songwriters and sung by golden voices, I wept. I weep for the great loss. I weep for the hopelessness. I weep for pain and suffering of so many. I weep for the children who have no parents. I weep for the lack of order. I weep for the magnitude of the recovery. I weep for the burdens my friends bear. I weep for the lack of restoration even one year later. I weep for the confusion.

But I also cry because of the example set before me of choosing to worship when all is lost. This has been a life altering lesson for me and every time I think about those people with their hands in the air walking through the rubble, I feel challenged.

Since we are at the beginning of a new year, I have been thinking a lot about goals, resolutions. I had some, but today I am thinking my Number One goal should be to train my heart and mind to worship in every circumstance. The immediate response. So if a rock hits my windshield, "thank you Lord." If I get sick, "praise you Jesus." If we lose our business, "God, you are good."

Lord, turn your eye toward Haiti today. Let your lovingkindness flow in that place in 2011. May the power of your Holy Spirit enable strong and good leadership to rise up and transform this small nation. May it be a testimony of your faithfulness, as your people join together and humble themselves and pray and repent for the sins of their nation - may you then restore their land to a shining example of your goodness. I pray that we will look back, many years from now, and see the hand of the Lord at work to build a nation of people that is a bright light in the world. And may I learn to turn to you with thanksgiving in every circumstance, in every blessing and in every trial. Thank you, oh God, and may your name be glorified throughout the earth.

A Fruitful Planning Weekend

July 30 through August 1...only a short weekend, but packed full of fruitful discussions with Pastor Val. My husband, Kirk and I went to Haiti together for the express purpose of nailing down details, coordinating some plans, and facilitating communication among key people in order to get a roof over 50 children's heads. As soon as possible.


The weekend started early on a Friday morning, wrestling four plastic foot lockers full of school supplies and other needed items. However, upon arrival at the very busy ticket counter, we were promptly told we couldn't check those types of items. Then it was a mad scramble to purchase four huge duffel bags (from another charity, oddly enough, who was selling them via American Airlines for just such a reason as this!) and transfer everything that had been so carefully packed. Of course, all of the crayons exited their boxes and resulted in a stew of crayola, pencils, pens and erasers at the bottom of the bags!

Otherwise the trip was uneventful, and we arrived without incident at the Port au Prince airport in the heat of the day. Standing in the parking lot, the daily storm was moving in as we looked up into the hills from the trees that swayed so violently over us during the earthquake. This was our view on January 12 - the dust from crumbling buildings rising in the distance.

And there he was. Pastor Val standing proudly with his new truck that our friends helped purchase. It is a black Great Wall, a Chinese-made diesel 4X4 pick-up, with seats for 5. He was so excited to finally be driving it, and we were thrilled to be the beneficiaries of its virtues: air conditioning, windows that actually operate, a dashboard whose warning lights don't stay lit constantly. Reliable transportation amidst the assaults of exhaust, heat humidity, filth and dust. Hallelujah!


We headed out toward Leogane, driving around the cracks in the road created by the shaking earth. We picked up a friend from back home, Katie, who is living in Carrefour for the summer and made our way out of the city's chaos and into the green of the countryside. The storm was fast approaching as we left the main road and took the muddy trail up to the orphanage.

There was a joyous reunion when we arrived, but it was short-lived as we were warned to get back to the main road as quickly as possible, as the rain would certainly raise the nearby river to wash out the "road," trapping us behind it. Though only about four in the afternoon, the sky was dark with clouds. The lightening was terrifying as it flashed all around us, with no real place to hide. Lightening and thunder were simultaneous and the children covered their ears in fear. Even I, who am a fan of storms, was feeling a little vulnerable. We left for the twenty-minute ride in the pouring rain for the guest house, where we would enjoy a bed, a shower and a roof over our heads. It all became incredibly real at that moment. We had to get those kids under a roof.


The next day, we planned to spend with the children. Pastor Val picked us up at 9 and we ventured out to a local street market for some avocados and bread. It was a dizzying cornucopia of sensory overload - mud and filth beneath our feet; a woman with a blaring bullhorn; angry chickens hanging off the back of a scooter; raw, fly-infested meat for sale in the hot sun; a drug-crazed youth sitting naked with a woman's lace skirt stretched over his hips; mangoes, coconuts and plantains...we are no longer in Kansas (or North Carolina).

Pastor Val's two cell phones rang incessantly - between the demands of being a pastor and running a taxi service, he is in high demand. He told us, "I have not scheduled anything else this weekend, so that I can host you." But clearly one phone call got his attention and he was obviously conflicted.

Maggie, one of his parishioners, had taken her 5-year-old neighbor boy to the hospital. He was in a diabetic coma and had not eaten or drunk anything for a few days. He was at the Doctors Without Borders hospital in Leogane, 45 minutes from where we were headed. His parents did not believe in Christ, and Maggie felt compelled to ask Pastor Val to come and pray for the boy, since his parents would not think to ask for such a thing. Clearly, Pastor Val wanted to go. We assured him that we could accomplish everything that we came to do while driving (especially now that we could close the windows!) and that it would be our privilege to accompany him in this task.

On the way, we passed a building that was made of pre-fab walls, made to last 5-6 years. We had considered this option at first; there is a factory doing the same thing in PAP that some Dutch missionaries started and is now operated by Haitians. The kits for the buildings can be put together in a day on a prepared concrete slab, so several of these small structures would provide shelter in a hurry. Pastor Val was intrigued and we could tell he was thinking. I told him that we had enough money raised to buy 7 or 8 of these kits, providing a secure home for up to 50 people. Now he was really interested. He said he'd like to visit the factory after we left.

When we arrived at the hospital, the staff told us we were not permitted to visit until noon. It was 11:30, but they adhered to strict visitor schedules. However, in just a few minutes, we were escorted one at a time into the temporary hospital. Temporary structure, but there was nothing skimpy about the staff, equipment or care. Top of the line. I am so glad.

I went first. The little boy was lying unconscious (or in a deep sleep), an IV of fluids and nutrients flowing into his veins. Dear Maggie was holding his small hand. I asked a few basic questions in the miniscule amount of Kreyol I know - how old is he? what is his name? has he eaten? fever? A nurse drew blood; he didn't even flinch. I laid my hands on him and began to pray. Bring healing Lord. You are the Great Physician, touch this little boy with your great power and bring him to wholeness, wellness and take away this affliction. From the top of his head, to the soles of his feet. Amen.

There was an old woman in the bed next to his (and I just can't remember his name!) and I threw up a prayer for her. She looked close to death. I think this was the ER. Another boy had some body part bandaged. Pastor Val went back after I came out, and took his turn petitioning the Lord for healing. We were able to speak with the dad for a few minutes and told him we prayed. Then it was back to our original plan. Pastor Val called his sister Yrma and alerted her that we were on our way, and that we wanted some of her good cooking. Rice and beans would be fine, thank you.


When we got there, we immediately distributed some water guns to the boys. Oh my goodness...great idea. They had a blast. The girls were immediately feeling left out, and so I produced four bottles of nail polish and got to work. And crayons and coloring books. And play dough. The boys still seemed to have more fun; probably because Kirk was in the thick of it. He came back soaked to the skin - some water, some sweat, I'm sure.

We wandered the grounds talking to Pastor Val of septic systems and footings. I snapped lots of photos. We played whiffle ball. I gave Daril, the eldest child at the orphanage, my Ipod Shuffle loaded with awesome worship music. He had been so intrigued with it last time I was there, and I never use it at home. More discussions about the future, about timing and community development. It's bigger than just an orphanage building. That whole community needs jobs, stability and growth. Lots of capable men are just sitting under mango trees wasting their days away. It is a pathetic situation. But we have a plan. Pastor Val has been pondering this for a long time and now is the time.


Another storm rolled in and we were hurried away again by the warnings about the rising river. Back to the safety of the guest house.

(Major tangent: When we got back to the guest house preparations were well underway for a wedding that was taking place within the hour. Guests had started arriving and the reception was prepared. The rain was holding off, so the outdoor wedding was still on. We noticed how decked out all the guests were: tuxedos, three-piece suits, top hats, formal gowns, white gloves, little girls dressed as brides, etc. This was going to be quite a party. One of the American women, Carol, that works at this compound came over to us and chatted with us about the spectacle. She told us this was the wedding of one of the staff, and she knew her well. As we talked, an SUV pulled up with a bride in the back. How fun! We were going to see the arrival of the bride. But then a second bride got out of the SUV... and our new American friend told us neither was the actual real bride. We were perplexed. Both of these 'brides' had the white dress, the veil, the flowers...Carol said that they really do get dressed up for weddings here! Well, okay then. I wouldn't like to be upstaged by other brides at MY wedding, but then again, we're not in America!)

As the rain began to fall, Kirk looked at me with realization in his eyes: "It's really raining hard." That was all he said. It fell like that for at least 4 hours. We were sobered to think of our friends, just a few miles away having to cope with the unthinkable all night long.

In the morning, Tingue - a Haitian engineer who lives on the compound we stayed at - came and talked to us about the building project for Pastor Val. That was a great conversation and we got a lot of answers. Then when Pastor Val came to pick us up, we were able to get him and Tingue talking, which proved to be the most valuable 30 minutes of the whole weekend. There had been several layers of people between these two men and a lot of misunderstandings had occurred. Everything from the building project to food distribution was tangled in a web of confusion. The Lord had us there to facilitate that brief conversation and exchange of phone numbers and names for the benefit of Pastor Val and the orphanage. If for no other reason, I am glad we went to Haiti for that short visit.

Now, we are back home, have raised a bunch more money and are well on our way to streamlining our efforts on the US side. It is a joy and a privilege to come alongside such a faithful and humble man of God to encourage him, pray for him and help him provide for the needy in his community. We are so grateful to God for opening the most unexpected doors of opportunity for him and for us.

And there is now a precious church of about 100 people in the Pacific Northwest that has opened its heart to Pastor Val. In one momentous event, they managed to give enough money to completely pay for the semi-permanent housing that we looked at with Pastor Val. This will provide immediate housing while we wait for the permanent building to come to fruition.

Thank you to all of the generous people who have shared of their time, talent and finances. And Pastor Val always tells us to say, "Thank you" to you as well.

It is heartfelt.

Three Days and Two Nights, Part 3

"Happy Birthday Abby!" First words out of my mouth...it was May 6, Abb's 24th birthday, and what a better place to spend it than among such wonderful people. It was destined to be a memorable day, and it did not disappoint. As a mom, you want all your kids' birthdays to be special, because they are so special to you and you want them to be celebrated. Her life has been full of fun birthdays, and she commented on how she has spent several in foreign countries: her 3rd and 15th in Italy, her 13th in England, and now this one in Haiti. Appropriate.

We scrambled out of our tent and wandered over to the chicken-coop-turned-dining-room, and found some cold water and apple juice still chilling in the cooler with a small amount of ice left from two days before. Yrma was fixing eggs for us, and we were amazed to see at least a dozen scrambled for us, along with peanut butter and rolls. Wow. How are we going to do this? Oh, I hope Pastor Val is planning to join us for breakfast!

While we were eating, sans Pastor Val, we heard the children, mysteriously still in their tents, softly singing/practicing the Happy Birthday song in English. Abby and I exchanged silent grins; she knew something was up but we didn't talk about it so to spoil it. I remembered that Pastor Val had left in the morning the day before, and returned right before we went to bed. I hoped that we weren't in trouble for keeping the kids up late, but he had seemed pleased that they were singing and worshiping with us into the night. A white box had appeared on the shelf in the dining room. I saw it, but I wasn't sure if Abby had.

Yrma finished up the kids' breakfast as we were finishing up, and I 'helped' again by setting the table with plates of a pure white porridge-looking stuff. It was steaming hot, so I assumed the kids would show up any minute. But the ladies took their time getting all the spoons out, then some cups, then another table. The kids started trickling in and sat down, but the preparations continued. Some crackers, then some more chairs, then water in each cup, then the drums from the church across the street. About 45 minutes after the porridge was set on the table, things were finally ready. Some of the kids had been sitting there almost all that time! When I asked them what it was they were having for breakfast they said, "labouyi." (I could not figure out what they were saying and when I got home, I researched it on the internet and found this lovely recipe for a porridge made with plantains, bananas, coconut milk, evaporated milk and cinnamon. Darn, now I wish I had been hungry and bolder to try some!)

Pastor Val, along with the help of his nephew, Roosevelt, got the kids calmed down and began a little speech, with Roosevelt in English, and Pastor Val translating (but the funny thing was that he kept "translating" into English, and forgetting that the kids needed it in Kreyol!).

"Today, is a special day. Today we are going to have something like a dream. It is Abby's birthday! (and all the kids clapped and shouted!) We will sing, we will eat, we will drink, we will pray together. We wish you good health, and success in whatever you are doing in Haiti and in the United States. So welcome and welcome!"

They prayed over the food, and then broke into the most amazing rendition of "Happy Birthday to You" I have ever heard. It was sung with gusto, complete with drums, in both English and Kreyol. The kids began to eat, (finally!) and Pastor Val brought out the mysterious white box, and laid an envelope on top.

Abby opened the card, and read Pastor Val's sentiments. She looked at him for the signal to go ahead and open the box. Inside was a gorgeous cake, that read, "Happy Birthday to Abby." Miraculous! Her response was of true surprise. Everyone clapped, and she proceeded to cut it into 50 pieces. No less miraculous. I was filming the whole party, and worked hard to hold back the flood of tears that kept rushing to the surface. (Check out the 2 minute version here.)

We asked Pastor Val where he found such a miraculous creation, and he related his story of spending all day in Port au Prince the day before hunting one down, gathering the soda, cups, ice and other party supplies. So humbling.

(As I've looked back on the video numerous times, it strikes me that some of the kids are smiling brightly through the whole thing, and others seem disinterested. I have wondered if they are ever celebrated so grandly on their birthdays. I have thought about all the things children in group living situations miss out on - mamma rocking them to sleep, or talking to them about their troubles; dad making sure they are doing their homework. When there are so many living together, they tend to take care of each other, with or without the presence of adults, and because of the inadequate ratio of adults to children, individual attention is probably a rare thing indeed. Their physical needs are provided for, mostly, but those things that only parents can do are short supply. This makes me sad and self-conscious.)

But it was a memorable moment in our lives, for sure. And I hope that the children, though it wasn't their special day, had a fun time.

As breakfast was finished, we passed out cake and candy to everyone. Stanley continued to play on the drums and we sang some more. Abby got out the nail polish we brought, and we set up a nail salon. Each girl got her 10 fingernails painted at least twice - that times 30 girls - about 600 nails. First with pink, then with glitter. The boys tried to get theirs done, too, but the girls fended them off! Pastor Val miraculously produced bottles of Coke and Cola Couronne's Fruit Champagne, a sweet, fruity carbonated beverage, made in Haiti since 1924, and poured it over ice for the crowd. It was a real party.


Pastor Val's son, David appeared about that time, and when he walked into the compound, the kids swarmed him like he was a superhero. He knew a lot of their names, and it was fun to see him interact with them. He's about 27, works for Digicel as a systems administrator and speaks excellent English. I'm so happy that we finally got to meet another member of the Val family. He had his Blackberry with him and one of the computers I had brought in January.

We actually were able to get on the internet using his phone, and although it was taking eons to load each page, it was clearly a possibility. This was very encouraging. I showed Pastor Val and David a few sites they might be interested in and the kids crowded around in amazement. I also pulled out my Ipod shuffle, and let Doudley and Daril listen to some worship music. They were hooked. After that, Daril said he would really like to have one of these. No problem. Sounds do-able to me!

Abby wanted to take another hike to see the mango man, but I wasn't up for it. She headed off with a couple of kids and her camera. She was gone about an hour and came back with some beautiful shots and more stories.

It was getting late in the day and nearing the time to leave. We loaded up our things, left the tent behind, and spent some last minute moments wandering the grounds. We gathered the children for a group shot.

As we were about to get in the Trooper, Daril gathered the children and had something prepared to say to us. As the eldest child, and the representative of the group, he very humbly and articulately said to us in English,

"We have one request. As you know the World Cup is coming on June 11, and we would really like to watch it. Could you help us find a way to watch the World Cup on television?"

I looked right at Pastor Val and said, "Can you take some of that money I gave you yesterday, and get them a TV so they can enjoy this?" He nodded yes. (I got word on June 10 that yes, indeed, they were able to make it happen. I guess that generator is getting a lot of use this month!)

That was our parting moment, and it was so precious. We - Pastor Val, Abby, David, another Pastor from Jacmel and I - piled into the Trooper, fully prepared for a jostling, dusty, hot three-hour ride back into the city. Abby and David rode up front, and they talked and talked about all kinds of internet stuff and business. We made one last stop at the potty-house, saw our little friend on the chair again, and thanked the lady of the house for her hospitality. "I was hungry and you gave me something to eat. I was thirsty and you gave me something to drink. I was sick and you visited me." I needed a toilet, and you shared yours with me. :) Thank you, kind family.

We made it back to Port au Prince in a record 1.5 hours and back to the Bataille's just a short time before the rest of the team returned. We shared dinner together, then some devotions and debriefing. We inflated our air mattresses in a bedroom under a fan. We waited for the water to be turned on, took quick showers, and crashed.

Has it really been 24 years since I birthed my first child? Such a wonderful woman she has become! Happy Birthday, my dear Abby. I love you so much.

Making Preparations for another Trip

My husband rolled over this morning and told me he'd miss me when I go on my next trip to Haiti on May 1. So sweet. I told him I promised there wouldn't be another natural disaster this time, but he wondered why I thought I had any control over things like that! Of course I don't, but I feel like maybe in some sort of cosmic justice kind of way, I've done my time... :)

Leaving one week from today, I've been spending lots of time gathering donated food, supplies, and medicines from generous friends and strangers. My study has been converted into a mini-warehouse, full of rice and beans, shoes and socks, soap and shampoo, nuts and raisins. I've found Rubbermaid-type foot lockers with wheels on the bottom to use as checked luggage. I figured with no storage rooms, or buildings, Pastor Val and those that give care at the orphanage could use something like this to keep things dry. I had an epiphany the other while shopping for some of these things...

I went to a large warehouse store, and loaded my cart with a 25 pound bag of rice, a 35 pound jug of cooking oil, some powdered milk and some beef boullion cubes. As I was checking out, the gathering storm outside cut loose in a torrential downpour. Now I had to get all of this into my trunk, in the pouring rain. As I loaded it, getting drenched in the process, my heart ached for my friends who have no place to hide from weather like this. There is no house or building to run to for many in Haiti, and even a tent seems of little help in rough weather like that.

With wet clothes and a ruined hairdo, I got in the driver's seat and went to buy a tent. Getting wet like that in 15 seconds, made me re-think all I planned to take. The running shoes I was wearing were soaked and would take hours to dry, so they were no longer a practical choice. I need to think about adding a rain jacket and an umbrella to my packing list. And my tent selection process was suddenly much more complicated, as I deliberated with the nice man at Dick's about the effectiveness of the rain fly, and the tent's sturdiness in a gale force wind. I plan to leave this tent, by the way, for Pastor Val. (He told me he was still sleeping in his truck!)

So I decided on a four person dome tent, one that gives a little head room in case you had to do something besides sleep in it...like live in it. I set it up last night to practice. At first I was determined to do it alone, considering that it might be raining when I have to do it for real. But after some consternation (and in all fairness...tents have become much more user-friendly over the years...), I solicited my chuckling husband's help. I told him not to help me at first, but after watching me struggle, and telling me that the living room was not the best place for this, we moved it outside and put it up together in less than 15 minutes. I feel confident that, especially if it is still light outside, it is not raining, and there are not any chickens trying to move in with me, I can do it! Plus, I'll have Abby with me, who is much more adventurous, and plucky, than I, though maybe slightly less experienced in tent erecting. :) I even managed to get it all back in the tidy little bag it came in.

Ziploc bags are amazing: I plan to divide up all the rice, beans, oatmeal, dry milk, nuts, raisins, and boullion into to family-sized portions, just in case we will be sharing food with the community around the orphanage. Certainly Yrma will be able to use these portions as well for the children, but there are many others now that will need help, too. I'll leave that up to Pastor Val and Yrma.

I'm excited to go, but a little apprehensive about the unknowns...always so many. I told someone this morning, I feel like I am running to keep up with God; He is going so fast. Does He know I feel so inadequate, so unable to make good decisions at a moment's notice? Does He know that I prefer to be taken care of, not lead others on adventures? And yet, I find myself doing this again and again.

Two prayer requests, selfishly: that my heel pain will subside before this trip, and that no tarantulas will move into my tent while I am out for the day!

But seriously, (the heel pain is a serious concern) we would appreciate anyone who would like to pray to ask the Lord for the following:

• a safe and healthy week
• wisdom and guidance as we move forward in trying to best help those God has put in our lives
• divine appointments and contacts
• favor with the officials at border control and customs for goods we must begin to ship to Haiti
  
• rest and refreshment in the Holy Spirit for Pastor Val, Yrma, his sister, and the children and families that live around Val Children's Home Care.
• for every need to be met
• For many to find the Lord in the midst of all the chaos and difficulty.

More to come!

Earthquake - Day Two

I lift up my eyes to the hills - where does my help come from? My help comes from the Lord, the Maker of heaven and earth. He will not let your foot slip - he who watches over you will not slumber; indeed, he who watches over Israel will neither slumber nor sleep. The Lord watches over you - the Lord is your shade at your right hand; the sun will not harm you by day, nor the moon by night. The Lord will keep you from all harm - he will watch over your life; the Lord will watch over your coming and going both now and forevermore. Psalm 121

This is the scripture passage that those precious Christians were quoting all night long in that field. Linda said it was like "sitting in God's lap." Those precious people of God sang and worshiped and prayed and quoted scripture all night. Every time there was a tremor - they shouted hallelujah and praise the Lord and glory to God! Those shouts were like weapons against the fear. Small groups clustered around the field and as one group finished up their song, another picked up a prayer; as they closed their prayers, another quoted Psalms. And at midnight, a revival broke out! Shouts of praise and singing went up into the quiet night. It went on until the sun came up. I can only imagine what Heaven will be like, if that was just a glimpse! Such abiding peace. I hardly knew that chaos was all around us. The Lord knew that we would need a peaceful night for the next day ahead of us. We did not sleep, but somehow we were energized for the day ahead. Now this was also my second night of no sleep, remember?

As the sun came up around 6, the people gathered in one place on the field. They held a little worship service of singing and praying for about an hour. At that point we gathered inside one of the concession stands to the side of the field. Pastor Val was chatting with other men there, and we got bits and pieces of news. The tremors are expected to last until Friday. Planes with aid are supposed to be landing starting today. My family is okay. How's yours? We began to hear planes and helicopters in the distance, and then eventually saw them flying over our field.

After a while, Pastor Val suggested we walk back to his vehicle. In the daylight, it was easier to see, but also brought to light the extent and the horror of the damage. We stepped over power lines, power poles, rubble, a shoe here and there, around broken down vehicles, the injured, dying and dead. It was unimaginable and so enormous. The mind cannot comprehend; we just prayed as we walked and I'm sure the Lord shielded our eyes from too much.

We arrived at the Trooper just as the sun was climbing high into the sky, and miraculously, not a door or window had been disturbed. It was still locked up, our luggage was untouched, and my cash was all there. Thinking we would spend the day back at this location, we began unloading our bags. We were getting thirsty, too, as our water had run out. We had been sharing a liter bottle of water purchased at the Miami airport, although half had been consumed by the time we arrived in Port au Prince. There seemed to be plenty for us all night, but now it was time to find more. We had three water filters for the orphanage, so we opened one thinking we could use it for ourselves. The instructions were complicated and we needed two large containment buckets, which we did not have, nor a source of water, even dirty water. Pastor Val realized our need, and his, and disappeared in search of some. He miraculously returned less than ten minutes later with a huge bag of water pouches. I had been telling the ladies about these, and although I had been reluctant to drink from them in the past, we opened our hand sanitizer and wiped them down and drank deeply from several. We then refilled that liter bottle and shared it the rest of the week.

We changed clothes behind some chalkboards set up in front of the church, and sat down for a rest. Pastor Val, came to us then and announced that we needed to return to the field, that it was safer there. Again, reluctant and tired, and feeling a little lost, we piled our things back in that truck and headed out again.

On the way back to the soccer stadium, we remembered the supplies we had in our bags: band-aids, Neosporin, alchohol wipes, fabric, scissors, 25# of rubber gloves! So we decided that when we arrived we would use these things to help people. At first, one or two people came over and we applied the ointment and band-aids and prayed for them. the rubber gloves were rendered useless, as the bandages stuck to them and made the work difficult. Lisa stayed busy cutting strips of cloth to sling broken bones and hold ointment in place. But soon, we were mobbed with the injured: deep cuts filled with sand and rubble, broken legs and twisted feet, head injuries, the barely conscious. We were overwhelmed with our inability to help. I felt the crowd pressing in and the sun climbing high and beating down on us.

One dear woman had placed a dirty terry-cloth towel on a deep cut on her forehead. Overnight, it had dried in place. I knew that I must remove it before I could apply any antibiotic cream. I poured some water on the towel, and loosened it slightly. Then some ointment. A little more. Then I had to tug, but it wouldn't give. The fibers of the cloth were deep in the cut. I told Pastor Val to tell her that I must pull it off and that it would hurt, to brace herself. With tears in my eyes, I yanked that cloth as gently but as firmly as I could. She winced, but did not cry out. I had to do it a second time and I could hardly see for the tears. Finally that towel came off and revealed a gash needing stitches. All that and I couldn't really help her. I prayed for healing, and placed some Neosporin and a band-aid on her and sent her on her way.

A well-dressed man came to us and spoke in English. "My wife is in labor and close to delivering. I need you to help me." We tried to convince him that we were not doctors or nurses, but he insisted that any help would be better than none. While I bound up the bleeding, Linda and Julia went with Pastor St. Mark across the street to a hospital.

We heard very little by way of crying, moaning, or complaining. Even the little ones they brought us didn't fuss. We ran out of bandaids and ointment, and the crowd dissipated. Thousands of people began to pour into that stadium looking for shelter. They set up makeshift tent with four concrete blocks, four branches, and some sheets. They had a better set up than we did! The babies and children played under those tents with their mammas. The men must have been out helping. Pastor Val offered to move the truck to the other side of the field near his friends.

Lisa and I walked toward the hospital to find Julia and Linda. We were appalled to see many dead lying in the parking lot, on the sidewalk, at the entrance to the hospital. Some were covered up, some had a piece of clothing draped across their faces, but others, including a small boy, were not covered at all. There were also many injured and they called out to us for help. I suppose being white, people assumed the only reason we would be there was because we were relief workers, doctors or nurses. It felt like a violation of their trust to be there, because we could offer no help. We wandered around wondering where the entrance to the hospital could be, and then realized that we may never find them in there. We were both overcome with horror and decided to leave the area and go back to the field. As we walked down the driveway to the stadium a young man held out a baby to us with pleading eyes, "take her." We just shook our heads and said, "we can't." I wish I had taken her.

Lisa and I sat up on the bleachers, and waited, exhausted.

That was my low moment. I had cried the night before, but here we were in the middle of Port au Prince on a field, the US Coast Guard helicopters and planes flying overhead, but we felt so lost, and so unable to help. How would anyone find us here? No one knew where to look. We tried over and over again to reach our families on Pastor Val's phone, but the systems were overloaded and we couldn't get through. Pastor Val told us that the church was preparing food for everyone. Lisa and I sat on those bleachers, unable to rest or sleep, thinking surely the sun would go down soon, and we could at least lie down again.

It was 11:30 am.

We could not believe it. Soon Pastor St. Mark returned for provisions. They needed water. He said that one baby had been born, but his was still coming. He left. Within 30 minutes, he returned again with Linda, and his son had been born. They reached into our bags and gathered water, granola bars, sanitary supplies, and underwear for the mother and the Pastor. Their home had been crushed by the quake and they had nothing. We also gave him some money.

Soon both of our ladies returned, triumphant. Julia, who had been almost silent with fear up until now, was chattering away about her experience. How they had prayed because one baby was transverse and could not come down the birth canal. They watched the baby flip into place after Linda commanded the baby to move in Jesus' name. Julia described how Pastor St. Mark's newborn son peed all over the room upon entering the world. Joy amidst the sorrow. Linda named him, "Judah" which means praise because in the middle of all the pain, there was something to praise God for.

They cleaned up, and sat with us. We spread our blankets on the ground and tried to rest a little. We played with the children and their mammas nearby. Patty cake and "Oui, oui, non" their version of "Duck, duck, goose." We snapped photos of these beautiful people. And then another worship service began. We stood among the people and sang and thanked God for our lives again. Again and again we tried to phone out. Nothing.

And then, at 2:15, Pastor Val's phone rang. It was total stranger looking for Linda. They only spoke for 10 seconds and then it went dead. A few minutes later, it rang again, this time her husband, Wayne. We all cried, so happy that our families knew we were alive. She managed to say that we were on a soccer field on Delmas 33. Then the phone went dead again.

That put wind in our sails. The rest of the day was spent visiting with the people on the field, and playing with the children. Julia still preferred to stay in the truck, but the rest of us laid down on our blankets. Soon, it was time to think about bedding down for the night, so we picked a new spot. The precious church family there, had been preparing food all day in enormous vats. I'm not really sure how much they made, but we estimated 10,000 people on that field. They brought us a styrofoam container of the most delicious rice and beans with fish sauce that I have every eaten. We scrounged around in our bags for some plastic knives we had brought for spreading icing on cupcakes at the orphanage, and used them like chopsticks.

As the sky darkened, threatening storm clouds gathered over us. The wind picked up. The sky was about to open up on us. We ran to the truck for shelter. But no storm came. Just a few drops and then it was dark. We laid down for the night, even though it was only about 7:00. Julia and Pastor Val stayed in the truck. Lisa, Linda and I were on the ground again.

As it got darker and darker and more and more quiet, a few groups of men stopped by our blankets. At first they were asking about our blankets, could they have some, and then they became more bold and asked to lie down with us. Soon after this, about 11:30 pm, someone yelled in the dark, "Allez! Allez! Le mer! Le mer!" I thought I knew what he was saying, but I asked around to find someone who spoke English, and sure enough, they were shouting that the sea was coming; a tsunami. In my heart I knew that it was impossible. We were at Delmas 33 which is well above sea level, probably a few hundred feet. So even if the sea were coming, we wouldn't be affected up so high. But a frantic panic gripped everyone on that field, and all 10,000 people cleared out in 5 minutes. We hopped in the truck and took off as well.

We learned later that this was a ploy by looters to get people to flee, leaving their meager belongings behind. How cruel. But we saw it as the protection of God on our lives, because we were such vulnerable targets on that field for ill-intentioned trouble-makers.

Pastor Val began driving, and we just let him lead us where he wanted to go. He had been so good to us to this point, we trusted him as a father figure. In the dark, we turned onto a familiar street - Delmas 75 - Quisqueya Christian School! I asked him to verify that indeed we were there and he said yes.

It was quite dark inside their walls, so I wondered if no one was there. Perhaps they sustained damage as well and everyone had left. But the walls and the gate were in tact, so I boldly banged on one gate. No answer. I walked to the other gate, and yelled with all my strength, "Help! I'm Kellee Brackett! I used to teach here! We need shelter!" Soon someone came to the gate, and said in whisper, "Okay, come on in, just be quiet!"

A wave of relief swept over me. We were on safe and familiar ground and I just knew, now that we were here, we could work on getting home. We explained our situation to the Elementary Principal, Tony and he showed us to some picnic tables where we could spread our blankets. I stayed up a long time talking to the others, teachers and families that had sought shelter there. No sleep again, but such peace. In the morning, Tony led us to his apartment where we could freshen up and use the bathroom. Ah, what a luxury!

Earthquake - Day One

Many are the plans in a man's heart but it is the Lord's purpose that prevails. Proverbs 19:21.

So true. After a sleepless night, in anticipation of a big missions trip to Haiti with my three friends, Julia, Linda and Lisa, I boarded our American Airlines flight to Port au Prince at 7 am. We enjoyed the comforts of the Admirals Club in the Miami airport and had a delightful salad for lunch. At 3:45 pm on Jan. 12, our pilot came over the loudspeaker in our plane. "Well, we're approaching Port au Prince; and we'll be arriving 15 minutes early, although I really don't know how that happened."

We commented on the new air-conditioned jetway, and the escalators that took us down to the main part of the airport. Someone said they had just been to PAP two months before and none of that was there. It was certainly a pleasant surprise to me; I had just told Julia that we'd have to walk across the tarmac!

We processed through passport control, gathered our bags, navigated through customs, paid a little $3 bribe to overlook our dental supplies and ran the gauntlet of porters anxious for our business. As we stepped outside, the warm air greeted us, and Haiti in all its glory and chaos was before us. Our driver, Pastor Val was late, and we commenced trying to call him. He finally came around 4:50 pm. We loaded our 400 pounds of supplies into his Isuzu Trooper and he parked us under some trees while he ran inside to collect two missing bags from the previous day.

An old, bearded Dutch man approached our vehicle and began chatting with us. As he held on to the door, the vehicle began to rock gently, and we all assumed the porters were back, wanting some more cash. But then the rocking became violent and the trees before us were swaying as if they were being blown by a hurricane-force wind. A suitcase fell from its perch and knocked Julia in the head. We bounced out of our seats. But there was no wind. There were no porters. Sam's face was ashen and he said, "I've been here 30 years and we've never had anything like this!" We looked up into the hills of Port and saw a white dust cloud rising from the city.

It was an earthquake of 7.2 magnitude. The first of its kind in over 200 years in Haiti.

As Sam ran away, Pastor Val miraculously appeared. Shaking and sweating, he began to tell of his terror: blocks were falling from the ceiling, dust was everywhere, people were falling down, he crouched beside a desk. But then he was able to come outside, shaken, but unharmed.

We got back in the truck and started toward our destination. Our plan was to visit a small orphanage near Leogane for a week, delivering supplies, assessing needs, planning for future assistance. But as we approached Carrefour, the epicenter of the earthquake, we were turned away. The roads were blocked, the bridge was out. Pastor Val turned us around and I told him we should head toward Quisqueya Christian School where we could find other Americans and possibly some shelter for the night, as it was fast approaching.

We headed through downtown Port au Prince. The devastation unfolded before us. Cracked and crumbled buildings. People wailing, shouting, praising God, praying and singing. Every citizen untrapped was in the street, as far away from a building as they could get. A naked woman, dashed from the shower, cowered under a small towel. An old woman being carried from a building. Blood. Shock. Power lines. Concrete. Bodies.

We began filming, snapping photos. We opened our suitcases and threw our clothes to naked people. Cars, trucks, buses, motorbikes were driving all over the roads and sidewalks in no particular order. We were just trying to pass. We achieved one mile in an hour. It became evident we would not make it up the Delmas to Quisqueya, 5 or 6 miles away. Pastor Val started thinking of options. He knew of a church not far.

Our mouths gave voice to desperate prayer. They mixed with the noise of the chaos. The Spirit got ahead of the mind and we cried out to God for help, for guidance, for peace.

The Delmas is a road that runs like a spine from the busiest part of the city up the mountain, eventually changing names and crawling up to Fermathe. It is numbered; low numbers at the bottom of the hill in town, Quisqueya is at 75.

As dark settled in, we turned onto Delmas 9. We stopped the vehicle in the middle of the road far from the concrete walls that lined the streets that served as security measures for people's homes and businesses. There was a man lying in the street in front of us. We stayed in the car while Pastor Val got out to see if he could help. One lady was frozen in fear and wanted to stay in the car and lock the doors. She begged us not to begin giving away our supplies, thinking we might be mobbed. We agreed. Due to the shock of the situation, we could think of nothing to sing. I remembered I had my I-pod full of worship music, and pulled it out. I put the earbuds in and just sang to my mates, trying to bring the Lord's peace to the situation. I must have sounded crazy singing acapella to them. But at that point, all sense of propriety was gone; we were desperate for God.

After a while, I got out to see this young man in the street, see if I could help him. He was moving, but it was unclear what his injuries were. I fished one of the 30 blankets we had brought for the orphanage out of the luggage and made a pillow for his head. He seemed incoherent, with a gash on his head and a bad headache. We told him to try and stay awake.

Pastor Val emerged from the church with the news that the church members were walking to a soccer stadium about 30 minutes away. He advised us that we should follow. We were reluctant to leave this seeming secure spot, but eventually agreed to go. In the dark, we gathered a few things for our carryons that we thought we might need for the night: passports, contact case and solution, toiletries, a pair of socks, cameras...what were we thinking? We really needed blankets, food, water, etc. I didn't even grab the $700 in cash I had. We began walking.

We headed back to the Delmas, and were swept up in the darkness and debris. Power poles were knocked down and live wires still zapped. People were camped on the curbing in the center of the street, just sitting on 6-inch wide concrete dividers, babies in arms. Many were praying with arms upraised. There was a peaceful calm, maybe shock, maybe prayer. Some cried. Not many moaned. Cars and buses were all catty-wampas around the roads. Buildings and concrete and blocks littered every square inch. The road was barely visible under the rubble, but we managed to keep each other in view and find our way to Delmas 33. We turned left onto this major road and continued on.

The walk was not 30 minutes, but at least 90. We finally arrived at at driveway, and behind a building a beautiful starlit sports complex greeted us. I felt we walked into Heaven, because there was a beautiful chorus of voices singing and praising God. Loud prayers were going up from another group. Clusters of families and friends sat in groups of 10, 20, 30 and comforted one another. A pregnant mother asked for help, as she was not feeling well. I felt her belly and asked her where she hurt. She was not in labor, but very uncomfortable. Her husband laid with her and spoke to her gently, keeping her warm.

It was the most peaceful night of my life.