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!

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.