There’s that moment in between “we’ll play these games with these prizes in this order” and “oh…so you’re perfectly happy just running with balloons and getting kisses” that Haiti reminds me that at the core of our humanity, simple really is enough.
This country laughs in the face of an itinerary and time schedule and never ceases to invite us into the freedom that comes with losing control. Thankfully, my team has the energy that runs on grace, and they’re up for anything. We’re having funJ
Today we started the morning with a very typical Haitian breakfast…spaghetti. Seriously, though, it couldn’t have been better. It did however not have hotdog chunks in it like normal. Eh. Maybe next time.
Charlene then took us on the tour of the compound that all GO Project teams get to have. And she told us stories. And it’s like my ears know exactly when one of “these” stories are about to be told, because they tune right in and very little else can be heard. It’s the stories that keep me coming. That intrigue me. That feel like they quench some part of me that’s so thirsty to know more. How God has moved. How lives were saved. How things happened and came out of nowhere and provided so many with so much in just the right time. There’s a reason He told stories. Something happens when they’re heard that connects us in ways that lectures and lists cannot attempt. People want to hear about people, and God and people. Something in us, something very ancient, knows that we are relational and that we thrive there.
She told the story today about the church that is on the campus at the Orphan Transition Village. The entire compound’s purchase was finalized by the Global Orphan Project after the quake from a man named Pastor Claude for the use of it as a hub for transitioning orphans and storing and distributing food. Charlene told us that four years ago Pastor Claude had a vision from God to build a two story church with a tin roof. Two things being wrong here…1. There was no need for a two story church, and 2. A tin roof is disrespectful. It had to be concrete. However, when he refused to listen to the pull to place a tin roof on the church, the concrete structure soon fell. Recognizing this as a sign to be obedient, Pastor Claude made the decision to cover the church with tin.
For four years the tin made no sense and the bottom floor of the building remained bare and without function. Until January 12th.
Days after the quake hit the area, the bottom floor of that church became the distribution warehouse for thousands and thousands of orphans all over the country. Food from the DR was pumped directly into the building…which by the way, stood only because it didn’t have a concrete roof to cause its collapse…and continues to be funneled in and out today.
There is a Kingdom to be built at the end of the faithfulness that boldly treks through the nonsensical. And people will be saved because of it. As they are.
We spent the morning split up as a team, sorting the endless duffle bags of clothes and shoes, helping the mamas wash clothes so that they could have time for study and devotion, and we sent the men-folk to work on a questionably safe looking saw, finishing up some woodwork. It could have taken days, but this crew was resilient.
Bags of outfits and supplies were also packed to be taken with a team down to Cayes tomorrow. They are going to Bighouse to distribute and it is juuussst about killing me to once again be so close and to not be there with our babies. Correction, it is definitely killing me. I’m sending a letter with them saying that we are coming next month and that we love them tremendously. That is such an understatement.
The second half of the day was spent attempting to organize and execute a relay race at the OTV. Which the kids loved. The sack races were a little unnerving, as they kept falling on the gravel. But they would just laugh and laugh and pop straight up. At the end, we passed out star shaped sunglasses for a prize. Holly. Wood. To say the least.
Then we took the mile walk across the street and through the pasture to Pastor Calaix’s where we painted nails and made bracelets and braided hair and passed out suckers. I was only there for two hours two months ago, and I was greeted by name by a 10 year old named Jeff. It’s humbling, and that’s all I’ve got. It’s just humbling. They will remember every name that was there today, I assure you.
We wrapped the day with a chicken and potato supper, then the sweet, sweet bead ceremony/devotion on the roof while the kids watched a projected French movie on the side of the school building.
Did I mention how hot it is? It’s hot. I mean, pretty darn hot.
Also, there’s one room here that has a working air conditioner. The girls in my room are planning a hijacking of said air conditioned room. Wish us luck.
A night of wonderfully sweaty sleep, then another day of orphanage visits. Tomorrow, Julie’s Place and Madame Paul’s!
With “faithfulness” on the mind,
G’night from Haiti.
-B
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