Search Results : haiti

A Mom & Son Trip: Our Next Daring Adventure  6

mom-son-trip-001
On Friday, I will board a plane to Haiti.  I have been meticulously going over details for weeks and as we wrap up preparations, I want to make sure I record what’s going on in my heart.  This will be my fourth trip in 3 years… the first I attended a funeral, the second a wedding.  Our third trip was in the middle of a presidential election (that never resolved) and this time may be the most devastating in the aftermath of Hurricane Matthew.

 

But there’s another detail that makes this trip different.  This time I’ll have my son William by my side.  And because I am a Mom, this makes me so emotional.  About six months ago, as Peter and I were praying about this trip, we sensed that God was prompting us to ask Will to go.  He has been asking for years to travel to another country, so when we presented it to him and he said yes with wide eyes, it was an answer to both of our dreams.

 

If you were to peek into my heart and my brain, you would see my swirling thoughts and emotions.  Most of my thoughts are just details: food.  lesson plans. passports. underwear.

img_8339

But there are a few other thoughts when I wake up in the middle of the night:

 

I’m crazy excited. I cannot wait to take Will to the place that has my heart. I can’t wait to see him walk those roads and love those kids.  As a mom, more than anything I want to guard against the sense of entitlement that comes with being an American.  I want my kids to grow up with a heartbeat for the poor and powerless, to have their hearts break for the things that break the heart of God.  I want them to experience the phonemenon that having less does not mean less joy.  To have this opportunity to go with him to Haiti is unbelievable.

 

But I’m also apprehensive, and doing my best to be brave.   My default is to protect my kids, so exposing Will to such deep poverty makes me anxious.  We’ve done some intentional things to develop compassion in our kids, but we still become so sanitized.  On our living room mantle is a big framed print that says, “Life is either a daring adventure or nothing.” (Helen Keller).  In my heart of hearts, it’s what I want our kids to live out, but I would be lying if I said it was easy for me.  When I get apprehensive about the “what ifs”, I imagine the end.  What do we as parents desire for William?  We want him to choose the daring adventure, every time.  That means that I must be brave.

 

I’m praying big. We are on the precipice of some amazing years with Will. These are the years he’ll begin to form who he will be in adulthood.  So I’m praying that this trip will be formative to him.  God has a way of speaking so clearly when so many of our familiar scenes are erased.  I’m praying this will bring our close relationship even closer.  I’m so overwhelmed with the gift of being able to serve alongside him.

 

At the same time, I’m keeping my expectations low. I’ll just tell you right now I’m so bad at this.  I’m the queen of daydreaming something grand and then when it falls flat, I get so disappointed.  I know that this trip could have huge implications on Will’s life.  I’m confident that he will thrive and we will have an amazing week.  But I also know there are going to be some hard moments.   As his mind processes so many new things, I’m going to be tempted to tell him how to process.  But I can’t.  I’ve had some wise people warn me that this trip may not immediately affect him and to not be disappointed with that.  The implications will work themselves out in time.

 

I’m doing my best to step back.  When the hurricane hit the country of Haiti just a few days ago, I started to have doubts.  But God gently reminded me that our surprises are no surprises to Him.  He does the work He needs to do, no matter what.  So I’m relying on Him.  I don’t know what kind of devastation we’ll face when we get there.  I don’t pretend to think we’re going to go and fix anything.  My prayer is that I’ll step back and see how God is working.  I simply want to be an encouragement to those who are there doing the hard work day after day after day.

 

I’m packing a lot of food.  Seriously.  We bring mostly our own food, which usually is not a big deal.  But anticipating what a 12 year old boy will need for a week makes me dizzy.  He is hungry all. the. time.

 

I’m asking you to pray.  I know you will, without me even asking.  It’s why I value you all so much.  I will do my best to post to Instagram next week.  I’ll share the stories I can, while allowing Will to share his stories also.  damaska_family_2015-341-of-475 It’s going to be incredible.

 

P.S. We will be in Port-de-Paix, Haiti, which is in the northwestern part of the country.  While the hurricane did very much hit that region, it was not hit as badly as the southwestern portions.  I am quite confident that it is safe and good to continue with our trip.  Peter and the girls will remain in Michigan, keeping the home fires burning.

 

 

Well, hello!
I’m so very glad you’re here.  I hope you’ll stick around so we can get to know one another a little more.  Go here if you’d like to receive posts from me via email. I have a few printable verses I’d love to send you to encourage your heart.   –Sarah

How to Develop Compassion in Your Kids  1

 

IMG_8556

Somewhere in unknown Kansas, we stopped to stock up on groceries and have a quick lunch in the camper.  It was while we were eating our sandwiches that Peter saw a man in the parking lot, sitting against a light pole.

 

We were unloading our groceries almost an hour later when Peter noticed the man was still there in the same spot.  Without a word, he disappeared and returned with the man, asking him if he needed some food.  The kids and I scurried around, tossing out chips and apples and granola bars.  We made him a sandwich and gave him some water.

 

We listened to his story of riding his bike from Georgia to Wyoming and how he was now headed back south.  Along the way, his original bike had fallen to pieces. I noticed he wasn’t wearing shoes.

 

We don’t always have the eyes to see people for who they are when our lives are too caught up in our own plans.  We miss it so easily because we’re  being too efficient or we’re too scared.  Our minds are occupied with the task at hand and the ten tasks we must scurry to finish. But Jesus used a barefooted man in a Wal-Mart parking lot to teach us that being compassionate is a sweetest of gifts. We just had to slow down enough to see it.

 

I watched the kids listen to his stories and I was so thankful for a husband who saw a need and responded.  I was reminded of what I’ve said before: It has to be in us before it will be in our kids.  The best teaching moments come to us when we don’t have a chance to prepare— they’re our everyday acts of obedience.

 

We, as parents, must take the time to cultivate compassion in our own lives so it will leak into the lives of our kids.  Not because there’s an obligation, but because we are called to genuinely care about others.

 

A few days after we met Paul in the Kansas parking lot, one of my kids took some money and bought something extravagant for the little boy we sponsor in Haiti.  I wish I could tell you the whole story, but it isn’t my story to tell.  So you just have to take my word for it— our kids may look like they don’t care about others.  They may seem like they’re self-absorbed, but as we model Christ’s love, they will develop compassion.
There are countless deep needs all around us.  May we, as parents, have the eyes to see them.  May we have the wisdom to extend compassion… and may our hearts leak into our kids’, even on the days we feel like we’re losing the battle.

 

May we have the courage to help others, simply because every person on the planet has value in God’s eyes.

#damaskasontheroad.001

Hello Monday!  0

hello monday slides.002

 

 

 

It’s Monday and the beginning of a new week!

I have a terrible habit of randomness.  But I must share these few unrelated things with you right this moment, or they will forever disappear into the abyss of my brain:

 

 

I’m thinking about rules.

Will and Kate made up a simple game last week.  They were sitting about six feet apart, rolling a tennis ball between them, trying to get it past the other person.  These two are intense and quite competitive, but they play great together, as long as no one tells them.  What struck me most about their game was how many rules they had.

 

“You have to roll it!”
“That one didn’t count!”

“No fair! I wasn’t ready!”

 

The crazy kids fought about the rules more than they played the game.  I was sitting on the couch, watching them,  and it was all I could do not to intervene.  To me, it seemed like they were just bickering.  But to them, I realized working it out was part of their play.  It was as important to the game as getting the tennis ball past their sibling.

 

As much as we hate to admit it, rules are such a big part of our life.  We tend to think rules hem us in, restricting our lives.  They actually give us a wide open space to explore, they are what make us genuinely human.  If we think about it, our limitations force us to be creative in what we have.

 

My husband explains it like this:  Have you ever seen a dog who has worn a track on the very edge of his perimeter?  You can see just inside the fence where he has hung out.  He doesn’t see the whole yard he has, but just looks with longing of what he doesn’t have.

 

It’s the same with us, isn’t it?  We spend so much time longing for what we wish we had that we often don’t see all that God has given us.  There is freedom inside the fence, if we just adjust our perspective.

 

 

A good book I just finished.

 

FullSizeRender 24
Photo credit: Alexandra Kuykendall

 

I’m a big fan of Loving My Actual Life by Alexandra Kuykendall, because she took stock of her life and decided to rekindle her love of her ordinary days.  So she started a nine month experiment of enjoying her actual life, the one right in front of her.  The book reads like a journal, and it’s so real.  She pairs the good with the bad, the failures with the achievements.  It challenged me to really evaluate my life and the satisfaction I feel everyday.  Instead of looking with longing toward the “perfect life” (whatever that is), what if I strove to love the very life I have?  Right now, imperfections and all? (Here’s an excerpt if you’d like to read a bit of it)

 

We did this as a family.

FullSizeRender 25

It’s so easy to lose sight of how much of the world lives.  We tend to focus on what we lack.  When that happens to me, I’m learning to do a hard shift.  To recalibrate.  We go to Flint to hand out water.  I travel to Haiti.  This week we took the kids to the Compassion Experience, where we were able to “travel” through the life of two Compassion kids– one from Kenya and one from the Dominican Republic.  Our kids got to hear how their lives were before they were sponsored and how Jesus changed them as a result of being part of the program.  We often don’t think of the difference food and education can make in a child’s life, but the truth is, it changes everything.  We were also reminded of the crucial importance of writing to our child and how children save their letters from their sponsors.  I will never forget how surprised I was when we met our sponsored child and he knew everything about our family.  He had literally memorized our letters.  I was blown away.

 

Go here to learn more about the Compassion Experience.

Go here to learn how you can sponsor your own child.

 

If you’ve been around here long, you know I’ve said that we must pay attention to our tears because often it’s the leading of the Holy Spirit.  You guys, this stuff brings me to tears every time.  The poverty of the world and the joy Jesus brings– I will never get over it. And I’m paying attention.

 

I’m memorizing this verse.

IMG_8259

 

 

A prayer for you and me.

Father, We all have those in our lives that we don’t see.  We pass them by everyday without a thought.  But they are created by You.

Open our eyes to those who cannot speak for themselves.

Never let our hearts become hardened enough that we stop speaking up for justice.

Remind us that our lives need recalibration.

Give us courage to quit our comfortable lives and reach out.

Take our selfishness and give us compassion.

Take our pride and give us kindness.

Bust open our hearts for those who are helpless today… because we want to be like You.

Amen.

 

Have a lovely week, friends!

 

 

Well, hello!
I’m so very glad you’re here.  I hope you’ll stick around so we can get to know one another a little more.  Go here if you’d like to receive my posts via email.  –Sarah

Letting Go of the Frenzy of December  0

 

IMG_0155 (2)It’s the first week of Advent.

The days are short and dreary.  I just pulled on an extra sweater and resorted to socks and slippers. But my heart is thinking of my friends in Haiti.

And I’m fairly certain they don’t even own a pair of socks, or would, even if they could afford them.  Because pretty much, Haiti is the hottest place on earth.

One of the reasons I love Haiti so much is that it strips away all that I know or pretend to know. When I step off that plane and the first blast of hot air hits my face, I start to recalibrate.  The things I think are so important start to slip away and I’m reminded of what really matters.

The greatest thing happened because I was able to visit these people three times in just over a year… It quit being a “mission trip” and instead became a trip to visit friends.  Having so much concentrated time in their lives means I can remember their names, their stories.  The rhythms of the days, the conversations, the landmarks all run through my head almost every day and they’re reshaping my thoughts and the way I want to live my life.

I walked through those dusty streets, with four kids on a side, all clambering to get closer, rubbing their hands on my pale skin, chattering 100 miles an hour.  Adults would look at us with empty eyes, not a trace of a smile until we called out, “Good morning!” to them and their faces exploded into a smile.

IMG_0243
(Of course I had to include this picture. I mean, the cutest kid in the world is wearing a SANTA CLAUS shirt.)

I can’t explain it, really, but we spend our week walking and talking.  Not really doing anything earth shattering or life changing.  We simply build relationships… and they teach me so much.

I stood in front of a Haitian church full of people, talking about my Annie and what it means to be blessed.  And I cried— because I always cry— but it was more than the sorrow I feel over losing her.  Instead, I cried because I was speaking to a whole church of people who have suffered deeply.  Who have lost so much and still rejoice.  Who have gone without and still declare that God is good.

We’ve been home now for six weeks, but in many ways we are still processing what we saw and heard and what to do with what we’ve been given.  Because these trips don’t end when you get home.  They get buried in your heart and mind.

So when my inbox is flooded with black friday deals and I have to begin a clipboard of lists in order to keep everything in December straight, I find myself caught in a mental tug of war.  What really matters?  If Aldine or Lovely or Ricardo were visiting me, what would they think about my life?

We have been trained to be overwhelmed and busy during this season.  Oh sure, it’s not what we wish for, but what can we do about it?  Before we know it, we wear our stress like a badge of honor.

And I can’t help but wonder if we subconsciously pile on a layer of stress in order not to face what’s really going on in our lives.  After all, if we spend every minute preparing and rushing, then we don’t have to face our feelings of sadness, of disappointment, of emptiness that are buried under all of our errands and anxiousness.

If we keep our minds on the surface, on the next place we have to run, then we have no space in our heads to think about what it means to anticipate the birth of Jesus. When our heads hit the pillow in exhaustion, we quickly forget the significant, the eternal, instead overcome by menial tasks.

So we buy more presents, make more food and keep adding to the lists, convincing ourselves this is the way to have a meaningful Christmas… but in the end, our hearts feel hollow and joyless.

Paul writes, “Don’t become so well-adjusted to your culture that you fit into it without even thinking.  Instead, fix your attention on God.” (Romans 12:2, The Message)

What would happen if we quieted our hearts and our minds?  If we risked buying less for everyone and instead focused on loving deeply? What if— gasp—  I decided to cross a few things off my list without doing them? Surely the world wouldn’t stop spinning?

What if I’d be intentional about giving more to others?  Not just  collecting hats and mittens locally, or giving to people around the world, though I’m certainly advocating for those things.  I’m talking about giving my time to really sit and talk to someone who is having a hard time this season.  I’m talking about inviting a family over that needs some encouraging.  I’m talking about stopping my busy frenzy when the kids come home from school, sitting and looking at them in the eyes when they walk in the door, ready to tell me about their day.

My Haitian friends are teaching me that there’s so much more to life than I think.  They, who have lost so much and have so little to give, have given me the biggest gift of all.  They’re teaching me to move slowly through life, digging through the sorrow to find the hope Jesus brings.

May you find these treasures during this month, even if it means you must cross a few things off your lists without doing them.  May you be brave enough to reach out for the great joy that Jesus is handing you… because only then will you be able to fill your hollow heart.

 

Suggested Resources:

The Greatest Gift by Ann Voskamp (And here’s the version we’re using as a family)
Raising Grateful Kids in an Entitled World by Kristen Welch (I’m part of a launch team to promote this amazing book, so you’ll be hearing more.  When you preorder, you’ll get a great Global Family Kit)

A Thanksgiving Chat  0

FullSizeRenderIn honor of Thanksgiving and because my last post was heavy, here are a few things I’ve been thinking about:

  • I wouldn’t say my last post went viral, but hello people, it drew a lot more traffic than any other post I’ve ever written.  Over and over I’m reminded of just how many are hurting.  Maybe that’s you… and if so, can I ask you to pray for the others who are walking the same path? We need to be reminded that we’re in this together.  I’m completely overwhelmed with the ways God is using our story.
  • We got eight inches of snow for our first snow of the year… which just seems a little unnecessary and ridiculous to me.  However, I’m always ready for a good pot of soup and it ’tis the season!  (If I invite you over for dinner, chances are the recipes I use will be from Mel.)

IMG_6877

  • Remember when I wrote about my friends in Haiti and the cargo ship that sunk to the bottom of the ocean with all their belongings?  I’m so excited to tell you that people have rallied alongside them!  Not only did they receive enough money to pay for new supplies, they actually got TWICE what they originally had.  It makes me want to cry, because I can picture their sweet faces and the joy in their eyes.  Peter and I just returned from Haiti and we are still quietly shaking our heads over all we saw and experienced.  It’s an amazing place, friends, and every time I go, I just love it more (I promise to write more about it soon).  My friend, Neile, has been stocking a little Etsy shop with the sweetest little hand-stitched embroidery hoops and all her proceeds go to Waves of Mercy.  I hope you’ll hop over and check it out.  I had to buy the gumball one because the little boy was one of my favorites… and his name is Mackinlove.  I mean, really. I could eat him up.
  • Those cheap grocery store goldfish? They don’t always die after the first week.  I’m telling you, we’ve had three going strong for over a year.  In the same small bowl.  Not always fed or taken care of.  I think we might actually be sad when their time comes.
  • This was a great blog post.  I feel so helpless sometimes in my little corner of the world, unable to even articulate what I really think about all that’s going on around me, but when I read Sarah Bessey’s post, I nod along and think, “Yes. This is me.”RGK-gratefulheart
  • I’m part of a Launch Group for a new book by Kristen Welch called, “Raising Grateful Kids in an Entitled World”.  I’m excited to share it with you.  I deeply desire for my kids to be grateful and I struggle with how to take them out of the entitlement they think they deserve. I read the first chapter last night and was nodding my head the whole time. (There are some great goodies if you preorder).
  • Advent begins on Sunday and I can hardly wait.  While I know there will be stress and busyness during the next month, I’m determined to quiet my soul, to prepare for the great joy that has been promised to us.  That might mean I say no to a few things, but more than that, it means that in all the little, ordinary things I do, I want to see Christ.  I believe He shows up in all our normal, everyday moments when I watch for Him.  So it may mean that I’ll have a crazy busy month getting things ready for the ones I love most, but in the middle of it all, I hold my breath in anticipation of the One who came to rescue me.
  • We are visiting my parents over the Thanksgiving holiday.  Eliza received a “dumple bag” and “soup case” for her birthday and she is excitedly packing them with all the necessities for travel (And I use the term necessities loosely).
  • Lastly, we’ve been watching Guy on a Buffalo at our house.  You know you need something funny to laugh about as you’re digesting your turkey.  Don’t thank me, thank my 11 year old son… because pre-teen humor is basically the best.

Happy Thanksgiving, my friends.  I am grateful for you.

A Post about Kate.  0

I remember those first weeks of newborn fog and the overwhelming amount of care that my kids needed.  When I thought I couldn’t spend one more night getting up and down, one more day nursing and changing endless diapers, it would happen…. my baby would smile.  A small reward for the past weeks, just when I needed it most.

I’ve noticed the trend as the kids have gotten older.  As the weariness sets in and I’m tempted to think I’m just not cut out for this Motherhood, I adjust my glasses, I look up and around and I see the blessing of these years, of this work.

Easter Sunday, Kate was baptized.  She had casually mentioned it, talked to her dad and to our other Pastor and we started to get ready.  She had a slew of special people that she invited and we were all so excited to add something extra to Easter this year.

We asked Kate who she would like to help baptize her.  She was able to choose someone who has helped her in her life and has made an impact on her.  She chose her brother.

And then.

Then, she had to write her testimony.  I was going to help her because I knew it would be overwhelming for her to do at eight years old.  But then one day, she emerged from her room with a piece of paper with her sweet handwriting on it and I burst into tears.

“My name is Kate Damaska and I am 8 years old.  I was about 4 or 5 when I became a Christian. When I became a Christian I was down in the basement with my mom. I prayed with my mom and she taught me how to invite Jesus into my life.  So now I can show my kids when I am older how to invite Jesus into their lives.  Thank you to all my church leaders, teachers, and parents for teaching me the Lord’s word.  I now want to be a missionary like my mom and dad.  I want to go to Haiti with my mom and build a church that is strong enough to include everyone.”

It was like that newborn baby smile.  Just at the time I wonder if my kids are even listening, if we’re going to make it through these years of elementary/preadolescence (which is awesome, by the way, but also hard), I am reminded that there is hope.   There is blessing and there are gifts and even though Kate was the one who was baptized, I may have had the biggest smile as the tears ran down my face.

A Daring Adventure  0

Wednesday morning I got this text:

”Hellloooo!  When you get your kids off to school and have a minute will you call me?  Nothing bad, just crazy… want to see if you can go to Haiti with me next week.  WHAT??!”


I’m a homebody, logical, a planner.  I like to have adventures, but this time of year is busy and, hey, I have lots of kids and they have a lot of stuff.


So of course, I choked and I called my friend as soon as I could.

……. And I told her yes.


Which means that tomorrow (Tuesday), I’ll be boarding a plane to Haiti.  I’ll be there until Saturday.


(This is the part of the story that my friends look at me in utter disbelief, because they know me and how totally out of character this is for me.)


We’re going to a wedding of a Haitian pastor we love…. which, by the way, is better than the funeral I attended last time I was there.  I don’t know a lot of details, and really, that’s okay.  All I know is that as God shapes my life and I try to live with my hands wide open, He sends me these incredible surprises.


My friend, Neile, the sender of the first text, is going to be the Matron of Honor at the wedding.  She is as planned and organized as I am.  The fact that we are going together, last minute, is pretty hysterical.  But we have the greatest husbands, who encouraged us.  Peter’s first reaction was excitement… “Why not?”  he said.


Neile found herself in a bridal shop a few days ago, trying to find a dress in January.  She wrote to me in the dressing room: “Just wanted you to know I’m in a big bridal store surrounded by all these young girls, gathering beige dresses to try on and I’m thinking MY LIFE IS GETTING SO WEIRD.”


Helen Keller said, “Life is either a daring adventure or nothing at all.”  I’ve been smiling to myself as I make lists, plan childcare, and try not to panic.  When we say yes to God, the way He leads us is unbelievable and amazing.  I’m not sure what this next week will hold.  But my eyes are open and my heart is ready for wherever He leads me.  

On Poverty {step into my shoes}  1

For the past few Monday nights, after we get dinner on the table, we’ve been opening up a little cardboard box called “Step Into My Shoes”.

We’ve met a Pastor Tom and Momma Nancy, along with their 12 children.  They live in Uganda and they’ve been teaching us, via DVD, about what it means to have enough.  The first week we watched how they take plastic bags and fibers from the banana tree to make a soccer ball… and then we made one of our own.  Last week we watched them roast ears of corn on the fire while they sang and prayed together.  As a family we talked about belonging and about the ways that we are the same and different than Pastor Tom and Nancy’s family. Through the next sessions, we’ll learn how they gather water, how they prepare food, how they find safety as they sleep, how they travel to school and how they worship.

 

“With our busy lives, we sometimes need a story that reminds that simplicity leads to joy and the opposite of poverty is not wealth, it’s finding God is enough. As we discover God’s purposes and provisions for us, our families and our world, we live blessed to be a blessing.”– Compassion International

Two weeks after I came home from Haiti, I found myself in Louisville, Kentucky at the MOPS (Mothers of Preschoolers) International conference.  I had responded to an email invitation from Compassion International for a luncheon they were serving during the conference.   When a beautiful girl named Olive stood up and started speaking with confidence and poise, I sat in rapt attention as the stories came tumbling off her lips.

She herself had once been a Compassion Child.  She was from Africa, living through wars and unspeakable tragedy.  She told of her disappointment when she was told she could not go to school, how she had followed her grandmother to the fields on the first day, thinking of all her cousins and friends as they went without her.  She told of her excitement to get home and hear all about it and the confusion when it turned dark and they still hadn’t returned.  And then she shared her horror when they realized that during the day rebel soldiers had come to the school and had taken every child. By God’s grace she had been spared.  She grew up with hope, knowing Jesus.  She spoke of a family from Australia who supported her through Compassion for years after her mother died of AIDS.  She gets to meet them this winter, 20 years later.  It was the only time during her talk that she cried.

It was unbelievable.  With my own stories from Haiti freshly in my heart, I knew that God was showing me again the pain in the world.

At the end of the luncheon, we were handed a box and an invitation.  An invitation to shift our focus from to-do lists and busy schedules to “living from God’s enough”.  Step Into My Shoes is a 7-step walk in the footsteps of Pastor Tom and Nancy.  As we’ve been “slipping on their shoes” each week, we’ve been looking at how Scripture calls us to follow Jesus.  For our family, this is a practical way we can see the world through God’s eyes.  It’s another piece in the puzzle as we help our kids form the way they see the world.  And let me tell you, the conversations we have been having and the ways that I see my kids processing poverty makes my heart burst.  This is the stuff that matters in life.

Would you like to request a box for your family? It’s totally free– a gift from Compassion International, no matter if you sponsor a child or not.

 

Snapshot {Superman}  1

For a week in mid-September (2014) I was in Haiti.  I’ve been digesting my experience bit by bit here on my blog.  You can find the whole series of Snapshots here.

There’s this Haitian they call Superman. And there’s this story from years ago– that when they were building the mission, a wall began to cave in and one of the other workers was trapped under the dirt. All the Haitians froze, staring at the man as he struggled to get out from under the debris. Larry (he’s the missionary that we stayed with) jumped in and started to dig with his hands frantically as the Haitians screamed, “It’s going to cave in! Get out! Get out!” But Larry kept digging faster and the Haitians kept yelling louder.
Suddenly, from out of nowhere, Superman swept in.  He lifted both of them men out of the hole.  He got them to safety and literally seconds later, the entire wall caved in.  Superman, risking his own life,  saved them from being buried alive.

I didn’t get to meet Superman.  He died just a few days before we arrived in Haiti, of an infection.  After all he did for the people of Haiti (he spent twenty years building the mission and working there), it was fitting that we were there for his funeral.  He was 47 years old.

We rode in the bed of a pickup truck 45 minutes to the town of his funeral.  Most of the way there, as I was precariously balancing, exercising muscle groups that I didn’t know existed, I was selfishly thinking of the amazing cultural experience this would be.  A funeral! And just a day into my trip!  I asked if I could take pictures.

And then we arrived. I couldn’t process the sound I heard, because I had never heard anything like it.  Ever.

It was the sound of wailing.  A church full of wailing people, rocking back and forth, pleading, “Jesus, Jesus”. At times we couldn’t even hear the Pastor talking because the wailing was so loud.  It was so hot and so stifling.  My new friend, Pam, and I were squeezed next to one another, the sweat running down our backs.  People kept sitting next to us… and when I thought we couldn’t possibly fit one more in our row, we fit four more.  She would lean forward and I would lean back.  And then we would switch because there was no room for both of us to be in the same position.

There were no flowers, only ribbons made to look like flowers, because flowers would cost too much.  We were told that Superman’s widow would be paying for this funeral for a very long time.

I closed my eyes and drifted off, unable to process the grief and sorrow I was hearing.  These people– they have so little.  So much has been taken from them and they live with their souls wide open, rejoicing and grieving without abandon.  So raw.

They carried his widow out with the casket.  She was unable to support herself.  His two young daughters, too.  They loaded his casket onto the back of a truck and then we walked.  Hundreds of us walked quietly for over 30 minutes, following the truck to the cemetery.

 

And we watched from a distance as they destroyed his casket, pulling the handles off of it, to keep it from being stolen.  The tombstones were cement, with crude dates written by hand on them.  I learned that in a few years, the people take the remains of a person out, shove the bones back and make room for someone else.

I could only pray, “Lord, have mercy.”  These people have experienced too much grief, too much hardship.  With a freshness, my heart broke open as I realized how deeply Jesus loves these people and how He loves the underdog without abandon.

I have no good ending for this story, no little sweet verse to tie it up neatly.  This one cut me to the core.  I never want to get over it, yet it haunts me.  Now that I’m home, in the world of changing leaves and running errands and pumpkin lattes, it almost seems unbelievable.  And yet there is a very real widow today, putting the pieces of her life back together, putting one foot in front of the other in order to survive.  Lord, have mercy on her today.

Snapshot {dignity.}  0

For a week in mid-September (2014) I was in Haiti.  I’ve been digesting my experience bit by bit here on my blog.  You can find the whole series of Snapshots here.

 

There’s a story in Luke 13 of a woman who had been bent over double for eighteen years.  Eighteen.  It says she couldn’t even straighten up at all.  Jesus sets her free, healing her on the Sabbath, which puts the people all up in arms.  As they’re arguing and telling Him what He did was wrong, the woman, now standing straight, is praising God.
 I’ve tried to imagine myself in her place many times.  Only being able to look at the ground.  Seeing other people’s feet instead of meeting their eyes.  Unable to help with even menial tasks.  A burden to society, with no end in sight. Washed up.  Unwanted.
Often in a country as poor as Haiti, the older people are uncared for.  Their families simply cannot support them…. or won’t support them. They are bent over double, so to speak.  They have nothing left to offer their families.  They’ve lived incredibly hard lives, harder than we can ever imagine.  They’ve gone hungry more times than they can remember.  They’ve held their babies as hurricane waters sweep through their homes, standing to keep little bodies above the water.  They’ve sent their children to gather water while they sweep their front stoop over and over, taking pride in their home and their country. They’ve worked when they can, doing whatever it takes to keep their families alive and their children educated.

There aren’t many older people in Haiti.  In a country with so many diseases and so much hardship, life expectancy simply isn’t that high.  So when we were able to visit the Grand Moun house, I knew I was seeing something I’d never forget.  These precious people were being cared for and they did not take it for granted.  They spend their days in rocking chairs, looking out at the mountains, singing and building a community. Their beds are thin mattresses on cement blocks, their possessions in small sacks piled at the foot of the bed.
And yet, at an age where most are turned away, they have been given dignity.  Jesus has lifted them up and they are no longer bent over double.
(The Gran Moun House is part of the Northwest Haiti Christian Mission)