I give hugs.

This week we’ll celebrate our 9th birthday at Haiti Awake, and I’m feeling rather nostalgic as I look back at old photos and think of all the highs and lows we’ve experienced since 2014.

When the ministry started, a great deal of the responsibility and work fell on me. I laugh now when I think of some of the things I did back then because I either believed I had to do it all to be a good leader or I didn’t feel empowered to ask others to help.

Beyond that, in the early days there was a lot of training going on, so yes, I “did it all” - posting to social media, building the website, writing the blog, budgeting and payroll, managing finances, writing endless schedules and checklists, and on and on and on.

Today, Hudson, Steeve, or Vorb (along with the rest of the staff), plus our team of volunteers here in the US do all of those things - and so much more.

Earlier this year I asked Steeve and Vorb, “Do you really need me in Haiti? What is my purpose these days?”

We spent weeks discussing these questions. And I spent weeks in prayer and personal reflection.

And then I realized. I was still holding onto one job that I needed to relinquish to Steeve and Vorb - setting my schedule while I am in Haiti.

And guess what? My visits to Haiti have became so much more purposeful now that Steeve and Vorb (together with input from others on staff) write my schedule (and tell me where to be and when!)

The other day, someone I didn’t know asked me, “So, what exactly do you do in Haiti?” and I paused. There were a number of things I could have said, but I settled on sharing a story.

On my most recent trip to Haiti, after English class was finished at CERMICOL, I told the boys to 1) get a snack, 2) give me a hug, and 3) go back to your cells. And one by one they did just that. But then one of the prison officials, one who’s been there for years but one I’ve rarely interacted with, 1) got a snack, 2) gave me a hug, 3) laughed, and 4) sat down to eat. And I realized, “We’ve come a long way here in developing genuine relationships.”

So that’s what I do in Haiti. I give hugs to the juvenile inmates - and sometimes I give hugs to the guards, as well.

I’ve been sitting with that answer for a few days now, and I think that’s going to be my answer going forward for the time being.

I give hugs. And for now, that is enough.

So, tell me the truth…

Recently I spent extended time with a man I greatly respect and whose counsel I readily accept. We were having a great conversation, when suddenly he got serious and asked, “So, tell me the truth, are you dying?”

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Aren’t we all?

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I consider this man a mentor. He is a security professional with intimate knowledge of all that's happening in Haiti. He's not the least bit naive to the realities as he's lived them with people. I value his counsel.

We continued talking through all the "Haiti stuff" in a way I can't talk about such things with too many people, and I was fully prepared for him to say, "I think you need to stop going to Haiti. The trip wires are gone."

Instead he said, "I think you need to keep going to Haiti. It's what will keep you alive." Wow. The irony of that statement.

For it, it was a powerful word from a man who knows Jesus - and knows risk management - and knows me.

And he’s only 8 years old

I wish you could see his face. He is the cutest little boy. He has the sweetest smile and the brightest eyes. Whenever Steeve is around, this little boy is right by his side, wanting to show him something, wanting to tell him something, just wanting his time and attention.

And he’s a prisoner at CERMICOL.

He is not in the Friday English class, but he wandered in recently, watching from the back, a bit shy.

And I asked him if he wanted to participate, to do a Find A Word puzzle like the big boys were doing. And he timidly nodded yes.

Watching him do that puzzle, I saw that he’s not only a handsome little man, he’s also a very bright one. The Find A Word was in English, but he had no problem finding the words and marking them.

And he wanted me to look - he needed me to look - each time he found another word. He smiled broadly, proud of his effort. I let him know I was proud of him, too.

How does an 8-year-old child end up in prison? How does one who has never lived a life of extreme poverty even begin to comprehend all of the moments that together brought him to this place?

And how do we explain that perhaps being a prisoner is possibly a better life than this child would find on the streets?

We at Haiti Awake know him by name, and so does Jesus, even if we’re not free to share his name with the rest of the world.

Even so, come, Lord Jesus

I scan news sources every morning looking for any new information on Haiti. These days the headlines read of the proposed UN deployment of troops to help the country fight the numerous gangs which now control the capital and beyond.

Here in Haiti there is much conversation about what's transpiring and what the future will bring. People are afraid of what will happen if no "help" comes. People are afraid of what the "help" will bring.

Driving by another refugee camp yesterday - one that has grown over the weekend - I was reminded that simply having breath in one's lungs does not mean they are alive.

Watching hundreds of people stand in line at the bank yesterday hoping they might withdraw a little cash - perhaps the bank will be generous today and allow the equivalent of $20 US to be withdrawn? - I found myself with tears in my eyes that I thought I was no longer capable of shedding.

I realized yesterday automatic gunfire has become background noise, like the sound of the roosters or the barking of dogs through the night. It no longer disturbs us. We only turn our heads to a pop-pop-pop that sounds closer than usual.

We can speak of Haiti in theory. We can speak of Haiti in analytical terms. The world can speak of Haiti from a distance.

But this morning, as I prepare for church here in Port au Prince, I'm praying over the individual faces, the individual stories, the individual lives that are struggling to find hope day-by-day. And all I can pray is, "Even so, come, Lord Jesus."

This is my friend, Anora. I had the privilege to sit with him for a few minutes yesterday. He is now past 80 years of age, a milestone very few Haitians see. Anora knows a different Haiti, a Haiti that today’s generation has never seen.

But I know he remembers that Haiti of long ago.

And I ask myself this question: “Will he see even a glimpse of the country of his childhood before he meets Jesus?”

But what He really wants is my heart

I woke up on the morning of September 17, 2014, wondering what my future relationship with Haiti would be. The day before, everything that I had believed would be the future had been taken away with one phone call, and the shock of it all was still fresh. I was no longer part of the work I thought I would be investing in for the rest of my life.

Those were hard days, but they taught me so much about waiting, not settling for the easy thing, about dreaming for something more, about believing that God has a plan even if we can’t see it.

Today I believe that often we can’t see the road ahead, not because it’s dark, but because it’s so bright we aren’t yet ready to see its brilliance.

Yesterday Hudson sent me some photos he took of English class. (The photos are phenomenal, and I know he’ll share them on Haiti Awake’s social media next week.) It’s in these ordinary moments that I am reminded God’s plans are bigger than our plans and sometimes God closes a door because He has something much more beautiful in mind for us.

The work taking place at Haiti Awake is significant as day-by-day, in the ordinary moments, lives are being impacted in profound, lasting ways.

Glwa pou Bondye.

The ministry of presence

I am spending this week with a group of people who both love Jesus and understand effective risk management and mitigation, people who ask me hard questions, people with whom I am comfortable conversing on uncomfortable topics.

This week we all had the privilege of hearing firsthand accounts of captivity from people who have lived through horrific ordeals. Their stories were heavy, sobering. Hearing from them felt like a privilege.

This morning my thoughts are on these matters, as I continue to evaluate my own purpose and future in Haiti in light of the risks associated with travel.

Recently I asked one of our senior staff members the questions I ask before each trip: "Do you still want me to come? And is it wise for me to come?"

His answer was yes to coming. His answer to the second question is that we always need to act with wisdom.

He summed it up by reminding me that my presence is an encouragement to the people we serve at Haiti Awake and to the church we partner with. I was reminded of this quote I wrote down years ago:

“My task was simply to bear witness to the Christ who was already there. We all do this when we listen for the feelings behind the words, sit with others, offer a touch of the hand or a hug, and love them as Christ loves them. That is the ministry of presence—to reflect the presence of Christ who always goes before us.”

- Joe E. Pennel Jr.

What do I do in Haiti these days? It often feels like very little as Haiti Awake has accomplished our mission in many ways - “Empowering Haitian believers to reach their own country for Christ.” But then I am reminded time and again that presence matters, and that it impossible to love people from afar.

I am thankful for this week and the time and space it provides to count the cost of discipleship, and come to the conclusion again: Jesus is worth it.

Can things possibly get any worse?

We’ve been asking that question for over 5 years. And the answer is, “Yes. Things can get worse because they have gotten worse - over and over, year by year, and there’s no end in sight.”

So many things transpired over the weekend while I was in Haiti - things that now seem normal, things that are anything but normal.

I think about one of the boys telling me on Sunday night that the gang that controls the area near us is at the bottom of the hill, and I answered him, “Yes, that’s true.”

That was just a normal conversation. But how can that be normal?

I think about the empty street in front of the US Embassy, how eerie that was as we drove past, how vulnerable we all were in that moment.

I think about how PNH stopped our vehicle to see if I was okay. On the one hand I wish they would do that more often. On the other hand, I hate that it is suspicious that I am riding in a vehicle with friends.

I think about the empty shelves and coolers at Belmart, and my conversation with a manager who told me fuel is an incredibly difficult issue for them again. Can what is left of the economy in Haiti survive another fuel crisis?

I think about how the parking lot of Belmart was empty, and though we had told Fanor we would buy him pizza for his birthday, we didn’t feel safe being at the store. So, we left with a promise to get pizza one day in the future. I can’t tell you how much I hated that, even though I knew it was the right thing to do.

I think about the automatic gunfire we heard near our house the morning I left for the airport and the people we later learned had died in that exchange.

I think about all of these things.

I also think of the beauty of moments like these, and I know there has to be a hope and a future. We just can’t quite see it yet.

I am reminded of Lamentations 3:26: “It is good that a man should both hope and quietly wait for the salvation of the LORD.”

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Lord, Haiti is hoping and waiting.

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Prayer is powerful

When I arrived in Haiti last month, Steeve told me Pastor Danjour wanted to come pray with me.

As each day went by, Steeve told me the pastor wanted to come, but because of where he lives in relation to where I stay, travel was not easy. But on the morning I was preparing to leave, I was surprised when Steeve told me, “Pastor Danjour is here.”

We sat together - me, Pastor Danjour, Vorb, and Steeve - and the pastor blessed me with his words. Then, acknowledging all we needed to accomplish that morning, he cut the conversation short and began to pray.

His prayer reminded me of this Scripture:

“Are any of you sick? You should call for the elders of the church to come and pray over you . . . Such a prayer offered in faith will heal the sick, and the Lord will make you well. The earnest prayer of a righteous person has great power and produces wonderful results.”

— James 5:14-16

I have found it to be incredibly humbling in recent months to have people pray over me with regards to my health. I’ve also found it to be incredibly reassuring because when someone like Pastor Danjour prays, it’s easy to believe his petition to the Father will be heard.

My short trip to Haiti came to a close that day, and what better way to end the trip than by being covered in prayer by the very people on whose behalf I plead with the Father daily.

How thankful I am to know and love Haiti.

Sunday was a gift

Saturday night before bedtime prayers, I asked Handy, “Do you have your clothes ready for church tomorrow?” to which he replied, “Frè Steeve told me to wear jeans and a t-shirt to church tomorrow.”

Me: “Do you have them?”

Handy: “I have my jeans.”

Me: “Handy, you have so many shirts. Why haven’t you chosen a shirt?”

Handy: . . .

Sunday morning when I walked into church, I understood.

The majority of people at church were wearing t-shirts, shirts welcoming me back and wishing me good health. I even received a bouquet of fresh flowers as a gift.
Here are just a few photos we took afterwards.

But this surprise, as big as it was, wasn’t the only surprise on Sunday.

Later in the afternoon, Steeve had invited me to attend one of the church’s community groups. He had told me there was no obligation, but I was welcome. Of course, I went, but I didn’t find a community group when I got there. Instead this happened.

I wept for the next 20 minutes. I couldn’t stop the tears. How blessed am I to know this amazing community of people and to be loved and accepted by them?

Soon I will share one last story from this most recent trip to Haiti, and in many ways, what happened on Monday morning, tied the entire trip, this entire story, together.

And Saturday looked like this

Wesly giving the dogs treats to start the day because I can’t handle their craziness

The boys used Bananagrams to make this before we left for the day

A quick photo shoot

Three of my favorite people

Fun with new educational items at the community center

Someone always wants to be close by

Vladimir brought new items for MMJ

We all enjoyed Yvenson’s 18th birthday party - especially Odeline

Mission accomplished. 1500 pieces for the first time.

Dominos until dusk.

Saturday was a beautiful day. But Sunday was beyond amazing. I can hardly wait to share!

The story of Friday in photos

The way every morning starts…

Talking through educational topics together

Am I really in Haiti if this guy hasn’t created a traffic jam for me to experience?

A visit to Deux Mains

A quick stop to see the kids of CCS at summer camp

Learning important life lessons from tap taps once again

CERMICOL to see the boys…

…and meet the new babies

Starting a 1500 piece puzzle with the boys

Watching the pregnant goat climb up into the tap tap at dusk. Not sure how she did it.

How was Haiti?

I saw a friend at the beach this morning.

“So did you make it to Haiti?” Pete asked.

I have gotten variations of this question from a number of people since I’ve been home, and I am having a hard time articulating the wide range of emotions and experiences I had while I was there.

Therefore, I think I am going to take my time in sharing, and methodically share different experiences at different times over the next week or so.

To start, I’ll talk about the day I traveled down. Air travel has become so unreliable. I had tried to mentally prepare myself for “worst case scenario” as I was flying through Miami, knowing MIA has not had a normal operating day in over a month. But there were absolutely no issues with my air travel, and friends crossed my path!

John and I were together on my last flight out of Haiti back in March.

It seemed right to see each other on my first trip back - even if we weren’t on the same flight.

Favorite gate agent and favorite flight attendant

These two were there when I boarded that last flight to Haiti in March. They tried to comfort me through my tears. This time it was all smiles!

Port-au-Prince.

Knowing Manman Mari has changed the entire airport experience, and I’m glad he’s our friend.

The rest of the day was spent at home - and there’s no better place to be in Haiti.

That’s all for now, but there is so much more to share later. Stay tuned. What a weekend!

Does Anybody Hear Her?

I was taking my morning walk when a song came up I hadn’t heard in years - Does Anybody Hear Her?

And immediately my thoughts went to Haiti. I heard these lyrics, and the faces of girls in our programs at Haiti Awake went through my mind. So many of them are so vulnerable, and in many ways the center is their safe place.

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She is yearning
For shelter and affection
That she never found at home
She is searching
For a hero to ride in
To ride in and save the day

And in walks her Prince Charming
And he knows just what to say
Momentary lapse of reason
And she gives herself away

Does anybody hear her?
Can anybody see?

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And I was led to pray. To pray for the girls of CCS and Kay Timoun. For the women serving their time at CERMICOL. For the newborn baby who is living at CERMICOL with her incarcerated mother.

If judgement looms under every steeple
With lofty glances from lofty people
Who can't see past her scarlet letter
And we never even met her.

Does anybody hear her?
Does anybody see?
Or does anybody even know
She's going down today?
Under the shadow of our steeple
With all the lost and lonely people
Searching for the hope that's tucked away in you and me.
Does anybody hear her? Does anybody see?

And then I heard these lyrics. And I was reminded of how vital the ministry of Eglise Evangélique de la Grâce de Caradeux is to the local community, and how thankful I am that each Sunday when I am there, I do not see lofty glances from lofty people. I see real people who know they need Jesus and are living out their mission:

Connecting people to people. And connecting people to God.

Once again there’s nothing to say other than, “Glwa pou Bondye.”

The joy of knowing Handy for 10 years

On July 17, 2013, I met Handy for the first time. It’s hard to believe 10 years have passed.

Though our meeting was brief, and I never thought I would see him again, God knew. And He made a way.

Since that day, we have seen miracles with our own eyes as our Father has done exceedingly abundantly above all that we could have ever imagined (Ephesians 3:20).

As I looked back at old photos this morning, particularly photos of the first 5 years, I thought of how progress often happens in imperceivable increments, but continuous investment in lives can yield a bounty of blessings when given the opportunity to grow.

I was reminded today of a quote I read years ago.

“He who called you to where you are declares that you needn’t repent of being in one place at one time. You needn’t repent of doing only a long, small work in an extraordinary but unknown place. Standing long in one place allows the roots to deepen. The shade grows and a life gives. It is Jesus of Nazareth who walks with you.”
Zack Eswine

I have felt these words deeply through the years, but never more than I feel them right now.

As we look toward the future we believe the promise of Isaiah 64:4, waiting with hopeful expectation:

"Since ancient times no one has heard, no ear has perceived, no eye has seen any God besides you, who acts on behalf of those who wait for him."

Yes, these are difficult days for Haiti, but we have Hope because we have seen the faithfulness of God in our past, and we believe He will be faithful in our future.

Glwa pou Bondye.

2013

2014

2015

2016

2017

2018

2019

2020

2021

2022

2023

This morning - July 17, 2023. We could never have imagined a moment like this when we met in 2013.

It’s like Haiti came to me

It’s been over three months since I have been in Haiti - the longest break I’ve taken since COVID put a nix on travel in 2020.

I miss so many things about being in Haiti (the people, the food, the sounds, the atmosphere), but this weekend I feel like a part of Haiti came to me when Rugbi Ayiti visited Wilmington to play in the Cape Fear Rugby 7’s tournament.

Several players stayed here in our home, and I had the opportunity to go to a practice, watch several matches, and have individual conversations which I enjoyed immensely. We even all went out to dinner at Oceanic, thanks to Rick’s generosity.

A weekend of hearing Haitian Creole, having deep conversations about the current realities in Haiti, and supporting the dreams of a future national team was good for my soul.

Thanks for including me in your adventures, Rugbi Ayiti!

Faith like a child

I have many people on my team, but these two might be my MVPs.

They're not in school uniform today because Caleb and Lorie insisted on wearing these shirts to school. I'm so thankful to know they are truly praying for me with the innocence and faith only a child possesses.

"At that time the disciples came to Jesus, saying, 'Who is the greatest in the kingdom of heaven?'

And calling to him a child, he put him in the midst of them and said, 'Truly, I say to you, unless you turn and become like children, you will never enter the kingdom of heaven.

Whoever humbles himself like this child is the greatest in the kingdom of heaven.'"

Matthew 18:1-4

You’re gonna miss this

Six years have passed, yet I remember this morning so clearly. I remember thinking, "They won't be this little again. Hold on to the memory." I'm so glad I took photos and made videos because, no, Handy and Davensky aren't so little any more.

Trace Adkins sings,

"You're gonna miss this, you're gonna want this back

You're gonna wish these days, hadn't gone by so fast

These are some good times, so take a good look around

You may not know it now, but you're gonna miss this."

And oh, how I do! So much has changed in Haiti since 2017. We didn't know on that bright summer morning all that we had - and all that we would eventually lose.

Ayiti Cheri.

It’s not as easy as it looks

Recently my daughter-in-law, Hannah, snapped a few photos of me and Steeve as we were having coffee at Zola, a local coffee shop.

I love all the photos friends have taken of me and Steeve through the years - often when we had no idea a photo was being taken - because there are so many good memories associated with those photos.

However, despite all the smiles and the laughs and good times, I think it’s important to note:

Cross cultural ministry, cross cultural partnership . . .these are not as easy as it might sometimes look on social media.

Through the years Steeve and I have had to work hard to build trust and maintain our friendship which is the basis of our work relationship.

Particularly in the early years, there were a lot of tears from me and a lot of crossed arms and “the face” from Steeve.

I remember a few years ago during an exceptionally difficult time, I decided: “I’m going to believe the best about Steeve even when I am tempted to think the worst.” That was a huge turning point for me. I was making a conscious choice about where my thoughts would go in the midst of conflict.

I asked Steeve to tell me why he thinks we work together so well despite all of our differences. Here’s what he said:

Yes, sometimes we both cry, we feel frustrated or depressed, and we want to give up.

Sometimes we think we get it, but we really don’t. Sometimes we think that we understand each other very well, but later we realize we didn’t understand each other at all.

Sometimes we have good intentions, but that doesn’t change the fact that we feel deeply hurt.

You (Becky) are more open to express your feelings when you’re hurt, but I am more quiet and hurt inside.

Sometimes we hurt each other by one word (Creole or English) when words just don’t have the same meaning in our different cultures.

Sometimes we get mad to each other for weeks and sometimes all we need to reconcile is a coffee, and that is funny because one of the first fights we had after starting Haiti Awake was about coffee.

Sometimes we get upset because of coffee, but sometimes coffee help us reconcile. Now we have at Haiti Awake have a joke about “reconciliation coffee,” but no one really understands that joke but me and you.

Above all, without any doubt, we love each other and want to walk by each other’s side. And that’s why we keep walking together.

But it seems our friendship doesn’t make any sense when we try to explain it to others.

I agree. It’s hard to explains something to others that we ourselves don’t really understand, but we know that it’s true. We were meant to work together, we both love Haiti, and we are truly friends.

The Peas and Carrots Podcast

I’m a fan of the Peas and Carrots Podcast, and maybe one day you will be, too!

Today’s episode is about Haiti and Haiti Awake. I hope you’ll give it a listen!

Jesus is worth it

Thankful for The Bridge Church allowing us to share part of our story.