Reflections

Reflections

I’ve been home now for a little over two weeks.  In that time I’ve traveled to and from Indiana for Grandma’s memorial service.  It was a special time of seeing family, visiting a home from long ago and sharing moments of the heart that brought us all together as one, if only for a weekend.  Now I am back in Colorado and have to gain insight on where my future goes from here.

I slipped into my prior placed of employment for a short and sweet visit on Wednesday.  I had promised I would after I returned.  Glen and Nolan were hooked up to their morning  IV of coffee before the clock hit eight.  We enjoyed some time of updates including a new bus in the lot, some new hires for drivers and a remodel in the office.  As usual, we shared laughs and stories.  Bob came in at his usual time and I gave some quick reflections on my experience in Haiti.  The shop is manned with plenty of part time drivers and Nolan has fit back into his maintenance position that he enjoyed almost ten years ago.  All is well with the department and they will be moving on with their top quality service to the college.

I had an unusual experience with my oldest daughter, Christina, the other day at Chick Filet.  She asked me to meet her over at that establishment the day after my return just to share in a late morning breakfast and visit. I had the time since Michelle was at work so I obliged.  I left early because the noise level was rather high but found out that evening that, after I left, one of the servers who reads stories to the children had asked Chris where I had been.  She gave a brief explanation and the lady asked if I would be interested in coming to her Sunday school class to share my experiences in Haiti.  I didn’t think much of it at the time but have since reconsidered.  During my last night in Haiti, after I shared my message about ‘The Toolbox’ to the base during devotions, the team gathered around and prayed for me.  One of the prayers was that I was being sent back to the States as a missionary in order to share about what God was doing in Haiti.  I mused on the dichotomy of that statement as missionaries are generally viewed upon as being sent out from the States, not the opposite.  But as various doors closed upon my return home, I’ve re-evaluated the prayer and wonder if, perhaps, other doors more in line with my faith and experiences might be opening.  I will be thinking on those thoughts in the coming weeks.

Once again I am leaning on the Lord to give placement at this place in my life.  As with the Haiti experience of leaning on God to make me feel a part of something when I felt like an outsider, I now can trust Him to open the doors to make me feel at home at my home.  It should be interesting; an opportunity to draw close to Him.

The Little Boy

The Little Boy

I was on the beach Sunday evening before dinner. My green bucket served as my stool. It was parked within three feet of the extended surf. The sun had already slipped behind the mountains across the bay and I was experiencing the beautiful yellow red sunset. I casually tossed rocks into the shallow surf as I reflected on my final night in Haiti.

I caught sight of a small boy coming up the beach. He wasn't walking fast, but he seemed focused on a specific target; me. I didn't really pay attention to him until he get within five yards of me. He was young, probably five or six, was barefoot with shorts and a pullover shirt on. He had a small kitchen knife in one hand and had rather large eyes. I watched as he walked over to me and gently moved my arm aside off of my leg and made room for himself on my lap. He really didn't climb onto it, just leaned heavily on it. He said the customary, 'bonswa', or good evening, to which I replied the same. I looked into his eyes and said, 'bien', or 'good'. He said the same back, turned and watched me toss another stone in the water, I handed him one and, with a large white smile, took it and also tossed into the water where I had. We repeated the game for a couple of minutes in silence. He turned and gazed deep into my eyes, almost as saying, 'I am different; I am the future of my people and long only for your love.' Then, as casually as scratching your arm, he straightened up, said a short word in creole, which indicated 'bye', and sauntered off. I watched as he meandered up the beach, never looking back until he disappeared.

He was the first young boy who didn't have his hand out. He wanted nothing but to experience my presence, if only for a few minutes. After that, satisfied, he continued on in his little life.

Perhaps there is a wonderful future for Haiti. That little boy and his innocent participation in my life for only a moment shows me there is.

Homeward bound

Right now I am cruising along between Dallas and Colorado Springs.  I'm at 34000 feet, on the wifi provided by American Airlines, a new first for me; I love the technology of America.  It is truly amazing.  Off to the west are the remnants of the setting sun; a deep burnt orange at the horizon gradually brightening just a little bit to a light blue.  From there it rapidly fades to a deep rich blue found only in the upper atmosphere and then black.  Venus, the morning star shines brightly above while little light clusters below show the locations of the towns over Texas.  It is a beautiful ending to a long three month venture.

I received a royal departure last night from the base personel.  I was deeply touched by their kind words and generous prayers.  I have been sent back to the States as a missionary for Haiti.  They've also requested a replacement from the Lord to fill the large gap left by my departure.  I'm assuming that is referring to the lame jokes and humor that kept many of us sane through our common laughter. 

There are many that I shall miss from the Haitian experience.  I hope to share some of those special moments in the coming week(s) as I don't feel led to close this blog out just yet.  As I settle back into the routine of real life I'm sure that God will refresh my memories with those special moments unique to Haiti and the people there.  Be sure to check in no and then to share those moments.

Thank you, Haiti, for sharing your land and culture with me for those few months.  I think I came away changed in more than only one way.  I hope I can do you justice in trying to share those special times with others in the future of my life.

The Toolbox

The Toolbox

Today, my last day with the rubble crew, was very special.  Travis had given me permission to share again.  I had decided to do a ‘wrap up’ of the prior weeks’ messages.

I began by admitting that I was a mechanic by trade.  Of course they knew this all along, but I knew it would bring a giggle, and it did.  I mentioned that each mechanic has a well outfitted toolbox, like the service truck on whose bumper I was sitting.  Each toolbox, I continued, was outfitted with tools that helped me accomplish my task at hand.  The more I knew about the tools, the better the mechanic I could be.

I reflected that, in a sense, when I became a Christian, God had provided me with an outfitted toolbox to accomplish the tasks he assigned to me.  Unfortunately, I didn’t necessarily know how to use the tools that were provided.  But He provided the means to become ‘educated’ in their individual uses.

I continued that on Monday of that week I had given them a message like that of a pastor.  It was designed to touch the heart and cause a reaffirmation of their Christianity.  On Tuesday, that role was extended to that of a teacher.  I shared with them the ‘how to’ of sharing one’s witness.  On Wednesday Francois exhorted them to have self introspection in knowing their walk with God. An exhortation, I continued, was a prodding from the Lord to get you off the fence on deciding an issue.  He exhorts, or prods you with a poker to get you to fall one way or the other.  On Thursday Francois again shared about remembering where you came from before becoming a Christian.  In other words, remember your testimony.

So, during the week the crew was exposed to the facets of a pastor, who kneads the heart; a teacher who shows you how to use certain tools, in this case a tract and your testimony; an evangelist, or one who refines your witness.  These three messengers are those who can train you to use your tools.  I also explained that they had received knowledge about some other tools in their box.  We prayed before and after each message; we developed their witness; explained how to share a tract; and showed how to express faith when God is drawing someone to Him. 

I shared that with all these tools it was time to use some of them.  So I introduced another tool; that of giving.  And with the weekend coming up it was a perfect time to practice their mechanics’ craft.  It was time for a weekend homework assignment, accountable to the group at devotions Monday morning.

In the meantime, on Thursday evening, I had emptied my duffle bag of all the items I felt I could live without.  I made a stack on my blanket that amounted to forty or fifty pounds of stuff.  It included boots, rain gear, rain boots, pants, socks, new underwear, water bottles and other misc. items that are difficult to get down here at a reasonable price.  I wrapped it up and took it this morning to devotions.

I challenged the crew to consider picking out an item or two that they would give away to someone less fortunate than themselves.  It couldn’t be family, just someone else in need.  I also challenged them to give the item away in Jesus’ name and to take their tract along in order to share why they were doing this.  I also suggested they pray with the individual to let them know they cared. 

I also shared how many of the Haitians, when they would see the color of my skin, would immediately put their hand out wanting money.  I felt as though many of the ‘Christian’ Haitians really were only that by name because it would mean they got something in return.  I suggested that the motivation for listening to the crew’s testimony would be different if they were offered something from a National rather that an ex pat (what the Haitans call people from the outside who come in to provide aid). 

I was encouraged and surprised at the work crew’s response.  After a short prayer, they reverently reviewed the items I had laid out and solemnly chose their gifts.  I almost felt we were having communion as they seemed to understand the gravity of what I was asking; give something to someone that is in need, share the reason why you are doing so, if the opportunity arises to share your tract, do it; and then pray afterwards if it is warranted. 

I personally believe that the resurrection of Haiti will only come about if it is done internally.  Nationals have to witness to Nationals.  It is only then that I sense an honest change in the hearts and minds of this mentally war torn country.

The Teacher

The Teacher

Mono had raised an interesting question the prior day.  He mentioned that he had felt impressed of God to share things with people about his faith, but didn’t know what to say.  I suppose it is a mix of not really listening to a church message or not taking the time to study on one’s own to have that knowledge at ones disposal.  But I felt that, since he directed the question at me, I could answer it for him.

On Tuesday I had prepared a quick message on tracts.  I started by sharing how having a listing of scriptures to share helps in sharing ones testimony.  I found a cheat sheet on the Roman’s Road to Salvation on the internet the prior evening and printed off some copies in English.  I knew it wouldn’t help them too much but I had some difficulty in locating some Creole information on such short notice.

So we took the sheets I printed out and went through each of the scriptures from Romans.  To save on space I’ve enclosed the link:

 http://www.greatertravelersrest.com/pdf/Salvation-The-Romans_Road.pdf   

I gave a brief explanation of each scripture and encouraged them to review the tract when they got home.  I also suggested putting the verses to memory so God could tap into them when He wanted to.

In addition I passed out a gospel tract in Creole that Pastor Pierre had found in his office the night before.  I’m not sure what was on it but it was prepared by SP specifically for that purpose.  The crew were quite happy to receive the information and promised to review it. 

It was nice to provide hungry hearts with Godly ammo.

The Preacher

 The Preacher

The rubble crew starts its day at 7:30 in the morning.  Because base devotions is later we started having a short message and prayer time by the equipment before the day starts.  Travis introduced access to a number of messages prepared by SP that could be circulated around the crew.  Many are quite inspirational but seem to lose a little impact in translation.  As a result some of the ex-pats started implementing their own bible lessons for morning devotions.

Last Monday I was asked to do our morning devotional.  Since I was asked the prior Friday I had plenty of time over the weekend to think about something relevant for my Haitian friends.  I was reminded of the scripture where Jesus asked His disciples who they thought He was.  I decided to make that my text and focus of my message.

I opened with a little background on the text of Matthew 16.13.  Jesus had just fed the four thousand.  He and His disciples loaded a boat to travel across the Sea of Galilee and then head north to the town of Caesaria/Phillipi.  This town had recently been rebuilt by Herod’s son, Phillipi.  He named it after Caesar and himself.  I can imagine the city being a vacation village of upper class Romans, probably with nicer homes and shops.  As the little entourage is approaching the town, Jesus asks His disciples who these people think He (Jesus) is.  I can see the disciples huddling together for a response and then saying that some say you are John the Baptist, or maybe one of the Prophets of Old, resurrected to do good things.  I brought the thought to today and suggested that many call Jesus a ‘good man’, or a ‘good teacher’.  Some might say He was a Prophet, like Budda or Mohammed.  I expounded a little on each of those and then came up to Jesus’ next question, directed at Peter.  He asked, who do you say I am?  Peter responded, ‘You are the Son of the Living God.  Jesus replied that the Father in heaven has revealed that to you, Peter, not man.

I followed the thought to John 6.44 where Jesus states that, ‘no man comes unto the Father except the Spirit draw Him’.  When the Holy Spirit draws a man unto God, the Father, then his heart is ready to hear what God’s messenger has to say.  I also expounded on the scripture  (Heb. 8.7-10) that states that God’s first covenant with man, the law, was flawed because man could not keep the commandments.  But with the salvation experience God writes those laws on our hearts where we are moved by the Spirit and our inner man to want to obey those laws.  (2 Cor. 3.1-3).  Because the law is written on our hearts our change in lifestyle, how we speak, how we act, how we behave and think becomes our testimony before the world that we are different.

The point for the message was that when a man has a real experience with Jesus, after being drawn by the Spirit to God, then his/her life will demonstrate a significant change that will cause people to notice.  It shows up as a byproduct of who you’ve become.

It was important to show this difference to the work crew as many Haitians have the concept that if you do what the white man wants as far as his faith goes, then you will receive gifts in return.  The concept has nothing to do with a personal relationship with God, only how to act to get something in return.  I wanted the crew to know that salvation was a personal relationship, a real experience and that a by-product of that experience is an outward expression of change visible to all you come in contact with.

I received many thanks and appreciations for sharing my heart with them that morning.  I’m not sure anyone had taken the time to share such thoughts before.   Mono took me aside later that morning and said that he felt God had impressed on him many times to say something to others, but didn’t know what to say.  I sensed his sincerity in his question and said I would address that tomorrow.

But as for that Monday, everyone of the crew was happy that they heard the Word of God in the morning.

Sadness

Sadness

Sandra Sumner, my mother in law, my friend and my other mom passed away this evening.  She succumbed to the final stages of a long illness called Parkinson’s disease.  We liked to call her simply, ‘Grandma’.

Grandma had a tough life with very few ‘breaks’ mixed in.  As a single mom she raised two generations of girls, five in total.  She was very proud of each one and showed it through her unwavering and unconditional love.  I never heard her say one negative remark about any of them, only words of concern for their well being and a longing to see them. 

She had joy every time one of her girls stopped over for some ‘mom’ time.  Unexpected trips to Goodwill or, especially, Dairy Queen or McDonalds for an unplanned milkshake registered high on her happy meter.  Unplanned outings for breakfast at Bob Evans, lunch at the Steer or dinner at the house with pizza were always welcome and appreciated.  She just liked to spend time with family.  Her family really was the center of her life and it showed in many ways.

When Grandma came over to the house in Madison she found purpose in helping Michelle out.  She would help catch up the laundry, clean the kitchen or just tidy around the house.  I suppose it is always easier to that in someone else’s home as Michelle would often do the same for her.  She helped out a lot by picking up the kids and taking them to their ball games in the summer.  She really enjoyed watching them and, if I remember correctly, didn’t miss but a small handful of games and school and church plays.  She was there for Christmas, New Years, Easter; all the holidays and many of those days in between when it was just a relief to have her around to lean on.

Grandma was one who stretched herself to watch grandkids at a moment’s notice.  She loved her grandkids and enjoyed the time she got to spend with them.  She subtly influenced their lives in many ways that reinforce the attributes they carry today.  Her participation in their growing up years formed a bond that only Grandparents can share.  It is special, different from that of a parent; one that my kids will sorely miss.

As the years went on Grandma was found to have Parkinson’s Disease, a destructive illness that robs the coordination and verbal skills of life.  She eventually moved out to Colorado Springs where her extended family helped her through the difficulty of losing those life skills.  While living with us in Colorado she passed her time picking up twigs in the yard and chasing the rabbits out of the yard.  Small holes under the chain link fence were promptly plugged with rocks or concrete rubble floating around the property and the offending rabbits were given a serious fist shaking and a rash scolding of mumbled words of warning to stay out or else.  In many ways I was glad the fence was there as it kept her corralled.  She loved the BBQ’s we had over the weekends and helped out in the preparation and clean up as much as she could. In the evenings she would sit with us around the fires we would build on the patio.  Even when it was mild out she would be bundled up in her winter coat, scarf, stocking cap, and indubitable smile that said, ‘I can do this and you can’t stop me’.  She especially continued with her love for ‘spur of the moment’ milkshakes.  For someone so small I never could figure out how she could suck one down so fast.  But as time wore on she had some incidents, like falling down the stairs, locking herself outside in the cold and dropping glass cups and then trying to clean up the mess that gave us cause for concern.  

After a number of years the extremely difficult choice for her to have professional care was made.  She was a real trooper having to be relocated a number of times to different facilities as her disease progressed.  A little over a year ago she requested being relocated one final time to Madison, her home of a lifetime to live her remaining time in familiar surroundings. 

Grandma left behind a legacy of tenacity.  Her life was overloaded with struggles that would make most people snap.  She dealt with each one as best as she knew how and then moved on.  She kept a positive, though cautious outlook on life and was able to give that enduring quality to her girls. 

Grandma, you have a large family full of kids, spouses, grandkids and great grandchildren who will sorely miss you.  We love you and look forward to being reunited with you some day.