Introducing my brother

Zick, pictured right, is my brother. After 27 years, I can finally say I have a brother, a younger brother. He asked if he could call me sister. I'm not exactly sure why, but we both enjoy listening to music, dancing, and writing.

On July 22, Zick asked me about what I was writing. I told him that I was writing about my day. I was often seen writing in my journal (a thoughtful birthday present from Amy). He asked if I had written about him; of course I had. I promised to show him what I had written later that day. Much to my surprise the words I wrote were objective, matter of fact. Sure, I wrote how we listened to his ipod while walking the streets of Haiti. We listened to French worship music; he sang for me in English, always interpreting. It was a special moment, a special connection. Listening to my ipod alone feels lonely. Worship music is our mother; God, of course, is our father.

After Zick saw what I had written, I asked him, what I should write about Haiti? What should I know about the country; what could I share with others in America who have yet to visit?

He told me was a writer; what he didn't tell me was that he's a poet. Keep in mind, it took us two days with plenty of interruptions, so transitions may be lacking. This is his response with minimal intereference from me:

Haiti is a good country. It has a beautiful sunset. When someone is taking his time to look at the sunset, he might find a word to express God's beauty.
If someone doesn't experience God's presence, he [should] come to Haiti and let the breezes embrace him. It's like a tiny [part] of God's presence.
There are a lot of trees and each one is marvelous.
The children are so funny. They used to say "blanc, blanc, blanc" when foreigners pass by. They say [foreigners are] wonderful. It's like the flame of love.
Talking about love is the center of the Haitian heart, because they experience God's love and show God's love to others by the way they behave. when Haitian people say hi to someone, he has a smile on his face.
Even if the earthquake touched their mentality or their lives, they stay strong as a lion.
Late at night we can hear some noises, but it's so sweet. We can say like the sound of a bird. Even if there are some sweet noises, it's so calm because the noises are sweet music that enters into each house. It's like Mozart's music; it penetrates everyone as a good morning.
When the sun rises [and the breeze blows], it's good. When the sun is shining, life has a new sense. It might be people go to work or some yelling on the street. It's a kind of way to survive; everything they do they give themselves in it, because they know life has a good sense, even though it's hard to live here. After the earthquake, life is so hard.


You are sick, alone, life has little sense for you, you want to know more about life, you want to know what love means: you can find the answer in a small country. Even if people say it's a poor country, but it's a greater one because you don't need money to live here. The main thing that you need is love, patience. Why patience? Because it's the thing that everyone needs in their life. For instance, you need something and you pray [to] God for [it]. If you don't have patience, you can act without God's will. Patience [to] wait [for] your day. When your day [comes] and [you have what you desired], you will live with joy.
Love is a center of this nation. This country that we described like that is Haiti. The door is open for everyone. You want to experience love? Come and receive. Don't be scared. Don't believe what the news said about [Haiti]. Imagine that you see a pineapple tree and people say, "This fruit is not good," and you never taste one, but you see someone [who], every day, eats one. What will be your reaction? It's a way to say come, and you will see.

Re-entry

Isaiah 51: 12-14
"I, even I, am he who comforts you. Who are you that you fear mortal men, the sons of men, who are but grass, that you forget the Lord your Maker, who stretched out the heavens and laid the foundations of the earth, that you live in constant terror every day because of the wrath the oppressor, who is bent on destruction? For where is the wrath of the oppressor? The cowering prisoners will soon be set free; they will not die in their dungeon, nor will they lack bread.

Adam tried to warn our group about "re-entry" during our last nightly debriefing meeting in Haiti. I did not understand how to heed his warning. As he was talking, I was crying about leaving. Perhaps, I should have known returning would be difficult.

It's been difficult in ways I did not expect. The other night I went out to dinner with a group of people: some I knew, others I met for the first time. We talked about places to go in San Diego, and a girl discussed her past month in Monterey, CA. I had nothing to add to the conversation. I felt trapped in my thoughts. I don't know how to describe the depth of my experience to others, and I don't know how to re-acclimate myself to daily conversations.

Two different friends used the metaphor of coming down from a mountain to describe returning from a missions trip. I was on such a God-high during my 5 days in Haiti that now it's time to descend. I keep telling myself that there are ways for me to serve here in San Diego. God always intended me to descend from the mountain; perhaps with plans for me to return and to see Dorly, Zick, Wilbert, and others again in Haiti. On Wednesday, a friend mentioned that I may never see Zick again. The thought had not crossed my mind. I had assumed that if I returned to Haiti, I'd automatically see Zick and Dorly. Not seeing my friends in Haiti ever again is a thought I refused to entertain in my mind.

How do I live my life in San Diego while remembering the circumstances in Haiti? The two places are on opposite ends of the spectrum: America's economic wealth, Haiti's spiritual welath.

I enjoy writing about my time in Haiti, but I know I'll be sad when I write my last blog. I know I'll be sad when the last of my photos from the trip are posted on facebook. Yet, there are so many books I want to read and blog about. I have future projects to feed my spiritual life as well as access my inner-writer.

Life goes on. The Haitians are living life; they don't let the earthquake keep them in bed in the morning. Sometimes I feel like hiding in my thoughts, listening to Zick's French worship music. Sure, I enjoyed meeting with my group of teens; I enjoyed meeting with Amy and Kristen to walk; I enjoyed jogging with K.D.; I enjoyed spending half the day with a co-worker; I enjoyed jogging by myself around my neighborhood. I'm beginning to enjoy San Diego again, but I feel alienated from other people.

And then I pray, because I know these sad thoughts aren't God's. I don't want to be dwelling. So, today I tried a Bollywood dance class. Tomorrow morning I want to pick up trash in Normal Heights with Adams Avenue Crossing; later I want to go to a Haitian church service in my neighborhood, of all places!

Despite my sorrow, my time in Haiti has inspired me to serve my own community. So, is that what I'm supposed to do: feel inspired by the people I met and act upon such inspiration? Yes, the simplicity of the answer seems to fit God's style. I'm looking for something complex and grandiose when the answer is much more of a reflection of Jesus. Love your neighbors: whether they're in Haiti or San Diego. Look around you, those people are your neighbors. Love them and put your faith in God.

Today I played the "bon soir" game in English. In Haiti, Adam and I joked about counting how many people greeted us in French. "Bon soir" sounds like a song; it sounds so happy and its joy is contagious to all you greet. "bon jour" just doesn't have that same sing-song quality. This morning, while jogging I'd wish people a "good morning." I received at least 6 responses plus one "hello." Perhaps I can add some of the Haitian hospitality in my daily interactions with people. Perhaps, merging Haiti and San Diego will 1. be much easier than I realized and 2. be a much happier experience than I anticipated.

January 12, 2010 4:53 p.m.

Perhaps I should have asked more people where they were when the earthquake rocked Port-au-Prince. Here are a few responses.

"Sumen" was in the kitchen. It was tin, so she and her family were safe [or, at least, that's the connection I think she made]. There was minimal damage to her house, just a few cracks. "Sumen" first words to describe what happened were: a favor from God. She also said, If I'm alive, no matter if entire world collapses.

Dorly was at a friend's house. Initially the earthquake felt small, so he stayed inside the house. Fortunately, as the earthquake increased in magnitude, he as well as everyone else in the house remained safe. Here are my notes from our conversation: Everyone was safe, but many people died in the area--kids. It was difficult to walk in the streets because the streets were full of people's bodies. A few thousand. Quarter million injured. 4:53 p.m. Earthquake hit January 12, 2010, longer than 50 seconds. It started small then increased. He stayed in the house, because he thought it was small. Couldn't make it home. No phone. He heard about his family the day after [they were safe]. Dorly was at the part in the city that was hit the worst. American Theologic School with over 40 people in it that died. Dorly knows more than 40 people who died. God takes care of him.
Haitians had no experience with earthquakes--didn't know what to do. People in streets went inside and buildings collapsed. 1750, 1842 prior earthquakes.

Wilbert, an intrepreter like Dorly, was teaching at a school. He was on the first floor. Everyone was safe.

Isaiah 49: 13
Shout for joy, O heavens; rejoice, O earth; burst into song, O mountains! For the Lord comforts his people and will have compassion on his afflicted ones.

How to help Haiti

Two of our group members went to a conference with other pastors in Haiti. They spoke to the group of pastors, and they also listened to a Haitian pastor speak to the entire group as well. During the debriefing meeting that evening, the two participants described the biblical image the pastor used to describe the situation in Haiti.

Luke 23: 26 As they led him away, they seized Simon from Cyrene, who was on his way in from the country, and put the cross on him and made him carry it behind Jesus.

When Jesus carried the cross, a man carried it for him part of the way. It is such a powerful image: a man helping Jesus carry His cross during His sacrifice for the entire world. This is what Jesus calls us to do.

Right now, Haiti needs help carrying their cross.

I also spoke with Wilbert, an interpreter for AIM (Adventures in Missions) as well as a pastor. He described a proverb that we all know well here in America: give a man a fish, and you feed him for a day; teach a man to fish, and you feed him for a lifetime.

Wilbert expressed the need to teach Haitians skills. He is involved in a youth ministry; later in the week he was going to teach them how to bind books. His goal is to teach others skills in which they can use to earn money. Part of his ministry is helping people in his community achieve economic independence. It appears that people need to become entrepreneurs in order to make a living.

From my limited experience in Haiti, the best way to help is to work with them in a spirit of collaboration and consultation, reciprocal teaching and learning. While there is much we can teach them; we have much to learn from them about faith in Jesus.

Goudougoudou

"Goudougoudou" is an example of onomatopoeia in Creole. It means "earthquake."

At 5:29 a.m. on Thursday July 22, there was a slight tremor felt in Carrefour. I heard what sounded like a large truck driving around the streets. Dorly screamed something. The girls in my room were already awake, so we ran out of the house as well. I had no idea why I was running out of my room. I was in my pajamas, and I did not grab my glasses. Many people had come out into the streets. I did not feel the earthquake, but "goudougoudou" sounded like a truck to me.

Pastor David told us not to worry.

During breakfast, Mary and I sat with Dorly. After sharing what happened during the earthquake in January, he told us: In the countryside, two mountains touched. There was an expression in Haiti, "Two mountains never touch," but the earthquake changed that.

Mary shared an Iranian proverb: God gave the problems to the mountains, but they wore away, so He gave them to man.

Mary thought for a minute, then said, We're stronger than mountains, possibly because we touch.

Galatians 6: 2
Carry each other's burdens, and in this way you will fulfill the law of Christ.

The earthquake has changed Haiti, just like I have been changed by the Haitians who touched my life.

A Haitian Welcome

The concept of "home" fascinates me. Upstate New York is my home. I've made San Diego my home. Is God adding another home to my list?

When meeting the interpreters in Haiti, they often said, "I am so happy to have met you." At first, I attributed it to a second language issue. While talking with them, I realized it was a genuine sentiment. It was not a mistranslation of "nice to meet you;" they knew exactly what they were saying.

Dorly would say to me, "It is a blessing to know you; it's a blessing." I was surprised to hear such a reaction. Sure, I'm wonderful, but even my ego is not that large.

In America, "nice to meet you" is an automatic phrase used. I feel like I often cruise on auto-pilot when meeting new people in San Diego. Small talk can be painful and seems more like a chore than a delight. It's always safe to ask someone in San Diego where he or she is from, because it's a transient city. Few people are from San Diego. I enjoy meeting new people, but I'd prefer to skip the pleasantries and talk about something real.

In Haiti, they take "nice to meet you" to the next level, and they mean it.

While trying to process this gift of welcoming, I thought of Jesus. He wants us to greet everyone we meet as if it's a blessing to know them. People who enter our lives are not on accident. From meeting your best friend to your waiter at a restaurant, God introduces us to people. The people we meet are a gift from God.

With such an inviting atmosphere and feeling filled with God's presence, it's no wonder Haiti began to fill like home.

My last night in Haiti, I sat with Dorly on the steps that were outside of the house. I told him, "Haiti feels like home." I saw a small animal dashing downstairs. "Was that a cat?" I asked. He responded, "Yes."

I had not seen a cat in Haiti all week. God uses cats in my life to communicate to me. (I swear I'm not a crazy, cat lady!) He will often send a cat to comfort me as I walk around a neighborhood. While I was sad about leaving Haiti, I cannot help but wonder if He was confirming this feeling of home. Will I return to Haiti? Will God continue to use me to serve my friends in Haiti? I know He knows the answers to these questions, so, for now, I'm content to wait and see.

7.23 Prayers of Healing

This story actually begins Sunday July 18 in Albany, New York. Cathie and Patti invited me to their church service Sunday morning. I knew my parents would not attend, but I really wanted to go. My parents agreed to drop me off at church and then go out to lunch together afterward.

I was thankful for an opportunity to go to church before I left for Haiti. A lot of the themes in my prayer life were echoed during the service. I knew God wanted me to be there; I was grateful to spend time with Him.

This is what I wrote the evening of July 18: I must write about church this morning. I met Cathie and Patti at Christ Church Episcopal. We were prayed for by the pastor as well as the congregation. During the time to share experiences with Jesus, a man shared a story about prayer walks (?) on Friday evening. A woman named Jen felt that someone had right hip pain. She asked a couple if one of them had hip pain. The woman said yes. Jen touched her hip and prayed over her. With time and prayer, the woman's hip pain was gone. It was a glorious moment for God! Toward the end of the mass, the man who shared the story came up to Cathie and I. He told us to take his hand with both of ours. He said the gift of healing could be passed between people. We only had to ask. He began to pray and mentioned the gift of healing. I asked for the gift of healing and immediately I felt heat travel through my arms then to my core. I've asked the Holy Spirit to help me be silent, so I can listen and to be bold when I hear God's will. I ask to be removed from all that I do. May God use me fully. May He fill me up and pour out His love in Haiti as well as every day. I am humbled at the possibility of healing others through God. He'd use me for such a task? I've asked to remove myself so anything I do is attributed to God alone. Like Mother Teresa, who said the work was never hers. Whatever my body does in Haiti, it is not mine. It is God's alone.

Needless to say, while I was in Haiti I was looking for opportunities of prayerful healing.

On the morning of July 23, Adam, Kristen, Joel, Ally, Zick, Ernst, and I walked around a tent city. We met people and asked to pray for them. This is what I wrote about the experience: Then we met Vanessa, Dahlia, and their baby. I talked with them. Vanessa asked for prayer, because she was sick. I put my hand on her shoulder and prayed for her. My hand felt warm. I trust God to heal her. I will continue to pray for her. Then we met Alisha and her mother Geraldine. Alisha was under debris after the earthquake. She has a fever. The medicine has not helped. I prayed for her, then Ally prayed for her. Then we found out that Alisha needs surgery. Something is swollen near her pelvis. I prayed for her again.

When praying for Vanessa and Alisha, I felt led by the Holy Spirit. The words did not always flow like water, but it felt natural. I will continue to pray for Alisha and Vanessa. I trust God is healing them and protecting them.

I also prayed for a woman named Michelle. She asked we pray for her family, to keep her strong in God, and to be protected. Praying for her felt natural. It was such a blessing to walk through the tent city and pray for the people we met. They shared part of their life with us. We are all connected through Jesus--to God and to each other.

Please join me in praying for Vanessa, Alisha, and Michelle. Consider going to Haiti to live in God's presence and to make new friends in Christ.

[photo credit: Adam McLane; the picture is of me with my hand on Alisha's head]