It’s all grace
This week has been full of hard conversations on Haiti.
People are struggling in ways that are impossible to articulate. I’ve been asked questions I couldn’t have imagined being asked in another lifetime. But desperation leads people to ask questions they themselves never thought they’d ask. Desperation leads people down roads they never thought they would travel. I’ve learned that I can not fully understand another’s perspective because I can not walk in his shoes, and I have also learned that perhaps, at times, all people need is someone to listen and remind them they are not alone.
My heart hurts. My heart hurts for the brokenness of this world, not just Haiti, but the world at large.
But each morning as I walk, time and time again, I am reminded of the grace of God that somehow carries people through their darkest times.
Simone Weil once wrote, “Grace fills empty spaces, but it can only enter where there is a void to receive it, and it is grace itself which makes this void.”
That’s what I am thinking on this morning. The grace that fills empty spaces, and the blessing of the voids - even if comprehending it all is beyond my mortal understanding.
But as for me, I know that my Redeemer lives, and he will stand upon the earth at last.
And after my body has decayed, yet in my body I will see God! I will see him for myself.
Yes, I will see him with my own eyes. I am overwhelmed at the thought!
Job 19:25-27
Knowing what I know
"Why do we care? Because we see ourselves in relationship, 'obligated by the very fact of our existence.' And now knowing what we know, we are responsible, for love’s sake, for the people and places that are ours—if we have eyes that see."
Steven Garber
Sometimes that responsibility feels so heavy. And sometimes that responsibility brings great joy.
But always I know that responsibility is there. I can not forget what I know. I can not walk away from living, breathing people who are more than statistics to me.
Individual faces and stories
There are roughly 12 million people in Haiti, and many of them have significant needs.
Idleman writes, “There are so many people God loves out there. They have a lot of needs. You’re not responsible to meet all of them, but you are responsible for some. Every now and then, God’s answer to a need is you.”
Sometimes it’s good to remind myself that not every need is my responsibility. Some needs are. Many are not. As we’ve grown and better defined our ministry at Haiti Awake through the years, we’ve come to realize that the people and places that are our responsibility are easy to identify most of the time - if we’re quietly listening for the Spirit’s voice to point us in the right direction.
Hudson took some great photos last week of individuals - faces - to whom we have responsibility. Responsibility towards so many used to frighten me, overwhelm me. But now I can say with confidence that being responsible for people and places is a privilege, an honor. And knowing their individual stories feels like something sacred.
Thankfulness
As I prepare for church here in Haiti this morning, my heart is full of thankfulness to the God of yesterday, today, and tomorrow.
His provision has carried us through many storms over the years. His goodness will be enough for tomorrow even as we face an uncertain future.
Glwa pou Bondye.
I give hugs.
And for now, that is enough.
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.
And he’s only 8 years old
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?
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
“Will he see even a glimpse of the country of his childhood before he meets 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.
Can things possibly get any worse?
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.”
Lord, Haiti is hoping and waiting.
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.”
Lord, Haiti is hoping and waiting.
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.”
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.
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.
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 dayAnd in walks her Prince Charming
And he knows just what to say
Momentary lapse of reason
And she gives herself awayDoes anybody hear her?
Can anybody see?
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.”
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!
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!
The children’s future
I have always believed that Haiti’s future depends upon Haitians themselves, and I have always believed that our children would be part of that future. But was the current conflict continues to drag on, as the country falls further and further into chaos, it’s hard to imagine a hope and a future for them in Haiti. It’s hard to imagine God’s good and perfect plan for them is there.
So many questions. So few answers.
Continuing to trust in the Author and Finisher of our faith.