Pure Religion

"Pure and undefiled religion before God and the Father is this, to visit orphans and widows in their trouble . . ." James 1:27. There is nothing quite like visiting an orphanage to touch your heart. If you have never done it, then let me wholeheartedly encourage you to do it soon. But let me caution you: there is a good chance that you instantly will fall in love with a child. Susan fell particularly in love with this little girl. And as Susan and the rest of the group were leaving, the little girl had to be pried away from her, for she had fallen in love with Susan. In fact, after showing her this photo, the little girl pointed to Susan's picture and said, "Mom." It broke Susan's heart.

Seven Beatitudes of a Missionary

Since we joined the group from Impact 195 for this trip, we had the good fortune of listening in on some wonderful Bible studies. One of my favorite Bible studies that we did on the trip was a study entitled the "Seven Beatitudes of a Missionary." So what are they? 1) be patient; 2) be thankful; 3) be joyful; 4) be flexible; 5) be focused; 6) be strong; and 7) be a servant to all. Simply put, if you want to be a good missionary, then do these seven things. You'll have very little competition, but great rewards.

Strangest Thing I Have Ever Eaten?

As most people know, I really don't like to eat many strange things. So when we sat down to eat our first dinner in Haiti, I didn't want to ask what kind of meat it was that was being served, for it didn't really look like beef, or chicken, or even lamb, yet I wanted to try it, for I was hungry. So what was it? What was that tasty food? (It actually was tasty.) It was none other than goat spine. It was so tasty that I actually ate it two nights in a row until I found out that Haitians don't refrigerate their meat. But at least I now have eaten something strange.

"If it Rains, Then They Get Wet."

Outside of our cabin, the locals simply slept on the open deck of the ship with their luggage. It was a large ship, and reminded me of an aircraft carrier, for it was long and flat. Most of the people on board had come to Port Au Prince earlier in the week to buy food, water, and other supplies to bring to Jeremie. The ship sails between the two cities twice a week.

When we set sail, the weather looked a bit ominous, so I asked someone what the people do if it rains. The answer was short and to-the-point: "If it rains, then they get wet. It is just part of life for them." And, sure enough, before long, it began to rain. As we stood on the upper most deck (only rich people were allowed up there), we watched them scramble to cover their goods with tarps, and I felt bad for them. Something like that is just not right. So Susan asked if she should get the three tarps that we had brought to give it to someone in need. My response surprised me, for I said, "What good would three tarps do?" My statement reminded me of the disciples' statement when they said, "Here are three fish, and a few loves of bread, but what good are they?" Put simply, I was caught off guard by my lack of faith.

"Blancs! Blancs!"

After waiting several hours for George and his uncle to run a few errands before we boarded the ship, we finally made our way to the dock, which was about three to five miles away from the cafe. Our driver, who obviously must be in the New York City Cabbie Hall of Fame, was more than pleased that Port Au Prince currently had no traffic laws. How bad was his driving? An armed UN soldier motioned for him to slow down. Did he? Or course not. He just kept honking, swerving, honking, and passing everybody and anybody.

On the way to the dock, there was rubble from the earthquake all over town. Many of the Haitians' home were made of cinder block and were poorly constructed, as such, when the earthquake hit, their homes simply fell down. But the saddest part of the whole thing was that rather than move to a new location, the people who lived through the earthquake (230,000 died), chose to live in the rubble pile. So there they sat, on top of their former homes, with absolutely nothing to do.

But then in the midst of the rubble piles I saw something unbelievable. If we had not been driving at the speed of light, then I would have taken a picture of it. At first, I didn't believe my eyes. Right smack dab in the middle of all the rubble was a building that stood intact. It was no bigger than a telephone booth, but it was standing. And it was open for business. What type of business was it? Lotto. That's right, Lotto. (Apparently Susan is faster than the speed of light, for she got a picture of the Lotto store--see above.) I couldn't believe that even Haitians, with all that they have gone through, could believe that they might hit it big and life would be great. Such is the power of deception.

As we turned down the road to the ship, the locals began to shout, "Blancs! Blancs!" as they began moving out of the way of our vehicles. I would quickly learn that "Blancs" was Creole for "whites." "Beep! Beep! Beep!" our driver incessantly honked as he literally shoved his way to the front of the line. I presumed that the driver was going to drive his vehicle onto the ship, and that is why he was honking at all the people to get out of the way.

But then I learned that the driver was simply getting us closer, so that we wouldn't have to walk so far with our luggage. It seemed quite rude to me, and I grew concerned that the locals would not take kindly to us "Blancs" honking at them to get out of the way.

To my surprise, however, the locals didn't seem to care one bit that we had cut in line. In fact, when we got out of the vehicles, they quickly grabbed some of our bags and started loading them onto the ship. Now, mind you, I had no clue where our bags were going, but at least they were going to be on the ship . . . somewhere.

To say that we were being submerged in the culture was an understatement. "Drowned" would have been a better choice of words. Be that as it may, we were led to our "cabin," which had six beds (three bunk beds). Believe it or not, we had one of only two cabins on the ship. The rest of the people would be on the deck (rain or shine).

When we got into our cabin, I thought of the Hampton Inn commercial where the woman looks disgustingly at a hotel bed that she views as deplorable before dawning a Hazmat suit to get into bed. "What a joke," I thought. Suddenly, America's ridiculous standards came to mind. Susan and my bed was about 2 1/2 feet in width (see Tyler's in the picture) and had not been washed in a long time. If the Hampton Inn lady had been there, then she would have keeled over and died on the spot. Before long, roaches were coming out of their hiding places, a rat or a mouse ran into the room, and before the night was out, our friend Josiah would come to feel the unique sensation of a roach crawling up his nose in his sleep. Susan could relate to him, for a roach tried to cozy up in her ear. Regardless, I saw the cabin as a refuge from the sea of humanity. Yes, this was a surprise, but it would be the most memorable night of our lives, bar none. We would spend 12 hours on this boat and arrive at Jeremie around 5:30 a.m.

"I've Got a Surprise for You!"

Flying into Port Au Prince, evidence of the January earthquake was everywhere. Tent cities were visible from the air. Collapsed buildings were all over the place. And, on the sea, there was only one sailboat, even though it was a beautiful Friday afternoon. Put simply, it was obvious that recreation was not on any one's mind.

When we arrived at the airport, however, and made it through customs (that's a story for another day), there was no one waiting for us and the land was very foreign. Instead of being greeted by our friend, George, who had arrived a few hours before us, we were greeted by a mob of men who all wanted to take our luggage for us. "My friend," they would say as they tried to take our luggage. "No, no," I would say, "my friend is coming to get us." Apparently I wasn't too convincing, so they continued to plead to carry our luggage, but we had nowhere to go, so we had to stay put. Moreover, we had no cell phone, no contact number for George, and no clue where he was at the moment, although we were confident that he would meet us at the gate, and preferably sooner rather than later.

Before long, George did arrive, much to our comfort. To boot, he brought his cousin, Gary, and his uncle, Jean (pronounced "Gene"). We proceeded to walk through the many locals, hop into a small SUV, and then wait for Uncle Jean to have a somewhat heated discussion in French over the local man's request for money. All the while, a young boy begged for money at our window. Needless to say, all the activity was a bit unnerving.

After breaking free from the throng of people at the airport, we went down the road, passed several United Nations armed vehicles, and arrived at a small, gated hotel, which had a small cafe. The gate was left open, but was guarded by a heavily armed security guard. I have no clue what kind of rifle he had, but I hoped he would not have to use it.

The plan was for us to spend the night at George's aunt's house in Port Au Prince, and then to catch a puddle jumper to Jeremie in the morning.

As were hopping out of the car and walking to the cafe, George announced, "I've got a surprise for you!" Surprises and Haiti, I would soon learn, are not exactly the same thing as they are in America. "We're going on a cruise tonight." Instantly, I thought that sounded a bit off. And then George added a bit more of his surprise: "With a thousand Haitians . . . overnight . . . to Jeremie." "Okay," we replied. It sounded adventurous to us, and would it ever be.

“Civil War is Coming!”

Rather than take a red-eye flight out of LAX to Miami and an early morning flight the following morning to Port Au Prince, we decided to take a 2:30 p.m. flight from LAX to Miami, so that we could arrive in Miami early enough to get a good night's sleep before taking a mid-morning flight to Port Au Prince. But then a thunderstorm rolled into Miami as we were in the air, and the Miami airport was shut three separate times for over five hours in total. As a result, we ended up arriving in Miami around 1 a.m. and had to take a taxi to our hotel, for the hotel already had cut off its free shuttle service (memo to file: never again book a hotel that is more than a mile from the airport, even if you are saving $5). Our cabbie was Haitian and looked a tad bit angry for having to stay up so late, so I started to engage him in conversation in hopes of brightening his evening. Before long, however, he was angrily telling me that "civil war is coming to Haiti, and it could break out at anytime." "Great," I thought, "just as long as it doesn't break out in the next eight days." To be candid, I started to wonder what in the world I had gotten us into, but we had no intention of backtracking, for we truly sensed that God had called us to go on this trip to Haiti.