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.

Travels with Jims

Travels With Jims

In the three months I’ve been here I have only traveled off base on weekends once to view the countryside.  I have traveled quite a bit between base and Port au Prince with the rubble team, but not the other direction.  Jim and Jim were taking a short sightseeing trip to the west of the base this morning and invited me to come.  Since I am leaving soon I thought I had better take advantage of the offer.

The three of us left around 9:30 this morning, a Saturday, and headed west.  Within a mile of the base I already could see a small difference in the scenery.  The houses were spaced further apart from one another since it became more of a rural countryside.  They were also further off of the road, instead of right next to it.  Foliage seemed more tropical than the other direction as there were fewer people crowding it out.  Palm and coconut trees and sugar cane seemed to dominate.  Amounts of trash also declined but, then, seemed to pick up again as we approached villages.

The first little town we came to was crowded with people shopping at what must be the farmers market.  As we crossed the road bridge at the edge of town I noticed a few dozen horses and donkeys standing untethered in the creek bed.  Immediately across the bridge were scores of wooden booths full of sugar cane, grain and fruit, like bunches of green bananas or bushels of mangos.  Other individual vendors had small spots scattered on the ground that were stuffed with their wares; onions, green peppers, bags of corn or hobbled chickens.  The market extended for two or three hundred yards to the west as we slowly picked our way through the traffic and people.

Once outside of town the countryside again returned, the trash lessened and the scattered houses returned to more of a tranquil landscape.  I was impressed by the number of low mountains in the distance to the south but also eyed the treeless, lower mountains hiding the ocean to our north.  It reminded me of southern California in the barrenness of the hills; absolutely no trees, sparsely spaced coarse vegetation, and multiple erosion gullies.  It was stark contrast between the lush tropical vegetation along the flat areas to the south of the road and the harsh reality of deforestation to the north.

The road gently climbed until it leveled out above a beautiful, long and wide valley that we could see extending a number of miles towards the higher mountains.  Ahead of us the road rounded a curve and started to descend a long grade towards another village next to a large lake.  Once again we passed through a smaller marketplace and exited the town.  The road passed through the backwaters of the lake across a narrow land causeway.  On either side the Haitians were doing laundry, washing their vehicles, taking baths or just loitering.  The water nearby seemed rather dirty but the lake was rather large and provided a nice vista across the blue waters to the distant shore some kilometers away. 

The western road provided a different viewpoint of Haiti for me.  This drive had moments of delightful scenery, coconut and palm groves, rugged mountains, sugarcane fields and what I would consider a fairly tidy rural setting in comparison to the outright neglect of Port au Prince.  Some houses were painted and well kept and, one small town in particular, seemed to actually care about cleaning up their trash.  The road had a center line that was painted and had some repairs in progress .  It was fairly well paved and had only a few spots where it was neglected. 

On the return drive Jim took a side road down to a small restaurant visited frequently by the NGO’s.  It had a narrow beach with white coral sand and coconut palms.  We walked a little on the beach so as to inspect some lobster some fishermen had just brought in.  One spiny lobster was probably a four pounder and would have made a great dinner.  Another Haitian had his artsy wares spread out on the beach and insisted on us looking them over.  A quick glance didn’t reveal any Rembrandts.  We meandered up to the restaurant and I bought my fellow travelers a Coke.  We sat around a table underneath an outdoor tent, drank our sodas, watched the ocean and visited a little.  It was fun.

I was glad I went out again before I left the country.  It gave somewhat of a different perspective of Haiti for me.  Yes, I still saw many hands out looking for money, but I also saw a thriving economy of business in the market places.  It reminded somewhat of the little festivals back in Indiana where buyers and sellers come together, not just to practice commerce, but also to shake hands, visit and catch up on community events. 

At least in this section of the country, all seemed normal in Haiti.

Find or Create

Find or Create

I’ve enjoyed rediscovering old skills that have lain dormant for many years.  I was intimidated by the newer equipment when I got down here.  I didn’t know if I would be able to run it or not.  Today I spent a few hours caving in some old latrines and filling them with rubble using the new CAT backhoe.  It went well.  The old skills I had were still there; just quite rusty.  They needed some lubricating oil of remembrance and a little time to work the gears back and forth.  Eventually I found them right where I had left them.

I’m noticing that some of the people coming down from the States seem to come to find themselves.  They are unhappy with the idea of secular work, doing the same thing over and over and not deriving any other benefit but a wage.  I suppose I had that same thought.  In fact, Michelle and I talked some about that subject as I was deciding whether or not to go to Haiti.  The idea of using some of my skills and talents on the mission field seemed intriguing to me.  Other mission trips that I had been on didn’t seem to ‘click’ in the sense of doing something I was already familiar with.  For example, my trips to Latin America were related to building churches.  I had some experience in that area, but it wasn’t something I particularly knew a lot about.  My trip to Europe years ago was in relation to watching how a man went about starting an outreach overseas.  It was interesting but wasn’t something I could contribute in.  I thought an experience in Haiti would set me in a specific direction as I had experience in demolition and heavy equipment operations and repairs.  It seemed a pretty good fit.

My time here has helped me find out a little more about myself.  I miss driving the machines but I don’t miss the dirt, the noise and the maintenance the stuff takes.  There is quite a lot of down time while waiting for others to do their part in order to do my part.  They are also bouncy and very repetitive in the nature of their tasks.  I think I’ve remembered what the life of an excavating contractor really is like.  It is a dirty job.  On the other hand, I have enjoyed finishing some projects and having a grateful thanks from the owner.  It feels good to have someone else pay the bills and I get a pat on the back.

So in a short summary, I’ve found I like driving new equipment and getting a smiling face from someone in return.  But there are other things at work here.  The question of how this life style fits into place with my family relationships and what I consider the important things in my life weighs in the balance.  In some respect it has been a challenge deciding whether or not what I find in myself from being here is what I want to live with.

Kyle’s mom posted a quote from some obscure author on Facebook the other day.  It basically said, ‘don’t find yourself, create yourself’.   I’ve given that quite a bit of thought the past few days.  Yes, I can rediscover who I am down here, oil up old skills and find an outlet for them, use my talents in welding and repairs on equipment, but if I were to create myself from scratch, is that what I would want to make?  I’m thinking not.  I’ve done that for a good portion of my life.  Yes, it is here on a mission field of sorts and it does make somewhat of a difference in the lives of the locals.  But, in light of my thoughts on prior posts, is this how I want to create myself in the last portion of my life?

I’m thinking that I don’t really want to be an excavating contractor again.  I’m also thinking that I don’t want to work outside, in the heat, under great big dirty stuff that drops oil and smears grease on every portion of my body.  I’ve also found that there are other people, younger and more skilled than I who will do these things. 

I think I’ll let them.  

Up to Speed

Up to Speed

The camp has been slow on activity this past three or four weeks.  Christmas and New Years had many staff go home for extended leave periods.  They have been trickling in since the first of the year but today was the first day that everyone that left on leave returned. 

The biggest difference in camp was that the work on the expansion resumed under full steam today.  A number of new carpenters and masons came in this past week for three month stints.  In addition, the Haitians laid off at the end of December were rehired; well, many of them I should say.  As the rubble crew headed out this morning there were fifty some locals milling around the front gate wanting jobs.  When we returned in early afternoon, there were still some tires smoldering at the SP entrance where those not hired vented their anger.  I suppose with that kind of attitude I wouldn’t hire them either.

An additional number of staff in training also added numbers to our base.  Five or six new faces were at dinner tonight along with the many new faces from last week.  Rubble has hired a new operator, a friend of Francois’ who flew in with his wife.  He will start Wednesday after his orientation training.  Phillipe has good experience operating equipment and driving trucks.  He and Merriam are both in their mid twenties and should fit in easily during their 12 month stay.

Rubble crew has been working on the site of Habitat for Humanity.  They are building a small community of single family structures.  Displaced Haitians from the earthquake will be moving in soon.  I’m estimating there are around one hundred or so little two room buildings erected so far.  Along with those are fresh water wells, latrines and security.  Francois has been grading the old fields with the dozer scraping level the furrows and mounds left over from the last crop.  I was moving dirt piles and trash around and loading the trucks with left over concrete scraps that we spread on a future road as base material.  After three or four days our time there is almost finished.

Today after I pulled off of the Habitat project I moved the loader back to the Lamb Center and then drove the backhoe from base to the Lamb Center.  I’ll be using it tomorrow to demo a small structure next door.  The demo materials will be used to fill an old cistern on site so nothing will have to be transported.  Travis and Robert both had meetings with nearby mayors concerning demo work in their jurisdictions.  They said the meetings went well; it seems to open the doors for future work in their respective communities.

The dining room was full tonight, in fact we had overflow to the concrete ‘tables’ outside.  Many new faces to meet and get to know.  From the volume I’d certainly say that the captain said, ‘full speed ahead’.

Let Me Count the Ways

Let Me Count the Ways

I’ve noticed that everyone on base who is on a contract basis knows exactly how many months, weeks and days they have left until they go home.  I’ve discovered a few interesting ways of counting that time.

When I first got here I had three months,  from Oct 31 until January 30, on my term.  That’s ninety days.  After the first week it was 83 days to go.  That seemed like an awful lot so I changed it to twelve weeks left; it was a more manageable number I suppose.  Now that it is down to two weeks, or fourteen days from today, it seems quite doable.

I had brought two bottles of anti malarial pills with me.  The first bottle was a thirty day supply, the other a 45.  I found that when I filled the smaller bottle in measured increments such as seven pills to the bottle then, when I ran out of that bottle, it seemed like the time had flown faster because now I needed to refill it again.  When I looked at the big bottle brimming with those green, fat pills, I simply couldn’t grasp the concept of jugging all those in the allotted time; but when it was divided up it seemed to disappear faster. That  was manageable.

Manageable is the key word here.  One worker who returned from Christmas break said it simply, “when I come back I return to prison mode”.  That simply means he understands his return ticket is dated, there is an amount of work that has to be accomplished in that time allotment, and there is nothing he can do to change those facts.  Knowing that there is a time scheduled for his return back home makes it ... manageable.

Kimmie helps out in a cute manner.  When she writes me on facebook or makes a comment on my blog she adds the number of days left to the note.  One message had only the day count, 24, on it.  When I first saw it I had to scratch my head as I didn’t know what the lone ‘24’ meant.  The next day I grasped the concept her message simply said ‘23’.  Duh.

The long termers, a year or more contract, don’t like to talk about their remaining months.  They made the decision to come here for a long time and this, therefore, would be where their life would be for that period.  They try not to be in touch with others outside of Haiti because it forces them to live here, in the moment.  Then their lives seem to change in that their Haitian friends are now ‘family’ and their lives become intertwined locally rather than internationally.

As for me I am not long term.  I go home in two weeks, that’s fourteen days; and I am counting each one down.