Day One

Today was an eventful day: we moved to Haiti.

2:00 am the alarm went off and by 3:00 am, Wes DeGier had hooked up our trailer of 12 x 50lb suitcases and 4 carry-ons and we were headed to the airport. We arrived at 3:50, plenty of time, or so we thought, for a 6:30 am flight to Miami, our first stop en route to Port-au-Prince, our new home until next summer, which, if you ask Stephen will still be this summer because we will be wearing shorts until then, but that's another story.

Anyway, the good folks at American Airlines, who have great commercials, while they clearly laid out on their website and on the telephone that they allow (for a hefty fee) for 3x50lb bag per traveller, did not. 4 travellers times 3 bags and it was reasonable for us to show up with 12 bags, even with new math. Even with metric. Then we met "The Employee". Barking orders like a seasoned Sargeant, we recognized that this was the kind of lady you want on your team; and the initial barking suggested she wasn't. So, after she directed us to check in and while the kiosk gladly charged my credit card the reasonable fee of $760 for our luggage (no, we didn't buy new luggage, that's the shipping charge; although after what American did to our luggage we do need to buy new, but that also is another story.

Putting my now warm credit card into my pocket, we walked to the counter where the clerk informed us that, no, we may not take 12 suitcases, rather, our maximum is 8. (for those who need me to do the math, that would have had us leaving 4 suitcases in the airport, which, since 9/11, you simply cannot do). We begged, we pleaded, we mentally decided not to throw the punch we were fantasizing about. And, powerfully and strategically, we prayed, and asked the boys to pray, which they did. Just like Margaret Tigchelaar who had prayed with us the night before, asking that the people we meet would be nice.

Re-enter, "The Employee" of paragraph two. Together with another angel whose wings were part of a company logo, they found us two first class tickets, which would give us 3 bags of 70 pounds for those seats, boosting our limit up to ten from eight, though not twelve, it was a glimmer of light. We wrestled and jostled with each of our suitcases, right there in Terminal Three, jamming toilet paper and shampoo and medication into suitcases already jammed with clothes and other things we had meticulously packed in the preceding days. Wes had wanted to stick around and see if he could help, but with the trailer behind the truck, he wasn't allowed to park or double park and so he had had to go. I am glad for him he got to miss that.

And so, relegating two now-empty suitcases to the trash heap, we were now ready to proceed through baggage, customs, and security. The problem was that we had eaten up a lot of clock with our suitcase shuffling. In fact, it was 5:45 and our flight was scheduled to depart at 6:30. That was when angel #2 devised a plan, which was great for bypassing all the lines, but terrible for my aching back which had just violated all of my chirorpactor's 24-hour-old advise (and that, too, is another story). You see, Angel #2 determined that putting Carol in a wheelchair would allow us to fast track through the airport, with the only small problem being that it would leave me and two self-proclaimed muscular 8 and 12 year-olds to push 10 suitcases, 4 carry-ons (did I mention one was a guitar?) all the while each sporting a full back-pack. Let's just say I am glad I am not within slapping distance of my chiropractor or my face would be red from something beyond the 90 degree 10:00 pm temperature I am enjoying while my fingers slide off the keyboard to write this post.

To close out the story of the airport before we move past 6:30 am, our angels, including "The Employee" were exactly what Margaret Tigchelaar had prayed -- nice -- and they got us to our gate just as we and everyone else at Pearson could hear our names being blasted through the PA system that it was our "final call for boarding" whatever that means. It wasn't until we were in the air and Stephen and I (Carol insisted we take the two First Class seats for our suitcase pushing heroics, not that Nathan wasn't also a hero, but we were making decisions quickly and if we made that one again we would have selected Nathan who would have enjoyed the spinach omelettes in first class while Stephen surrendered his to his father who didn't really need a second one, but hey, they would have gone to recycling otherwise) -- It wasn't until we were in the air, and I was digesting said omelettes, that I looked at the bill-work Angel #2 had handing me as I ran to my plane while the PA blasted our names: we had been given a full refund for the $760, and the only surcharges we had to pay at the airport was $128 - totall!!. I balled like a baby that has been up since 2am, pushed suitcases around a crowded airport while his name was being called out on the PA and then sat down in First Class to coffee in fine china, TWO spinach omelletes, and a $760 gift. I was blown away.

The rest of the day was your typical day of travel, hanging out in the Miami airport for a few hours and then landing in Port-au-Prince mid-afternoon (after the plane lilted and dipped all to the sounds of vomitting passengers behind us, but that, too, is another story), and snaking our way through the 113 degree (Fahrenhuit, not quite the temperature at which humans spontaneously combust) airport, and wrestling our ten now mangled suitcases from the willing hands of those who clasped them first and smiled back for a tip -- you know, that kind of typical day.

We were greeted by Jean Marc and by Zachary (King) who picked us up at the airport and drove us the 45 minute 5 kilometer trip (yes, traffic in Haiti is a crawl, but that is yet another nother story) to our temporary home at the Luths (until the Kings leave Haiti for a year on the 21st and we move into their house (but that is YET another story). After a brief orientation to the Luth's home, we enjoyed a meal with the Kings at their (soon to be "our") home. By 9:00 we were back in the Luth's home, praying with the boys before bed.

In our time of prayer tonight, we talked about the nature of God. We had prayed that he would make our day go well. But what we really wanted was that it would go well, without undue stress to us. Instead, he showed his incarnational nature, that it is actually in the messes and chaos of life that God shows up. It is our belief that God wasn't so much promising us who pray that life will be easier (wouldn't that be tyranny, if Christians were the easy route and all others were not?), but that today was a lesson: in the chaoses (chaii?) of this next year in Haiti, we ought not expect to avoid challenge, but that we can expect that it will be in those challenges that we believe God will grant us strength and ways to see his work being greater than our own.

Tomorrow, we learn how to grocery shop and we go to the Sous Espwa office to meet the folks I will be working with . We will pray that we meet nice people and that things will go smoothly, and mostly, that we can see God enter the chaos with us again, in the hopes that in each foray in, bits of non-chaos can be recognized, enjoyed, and celebrated,

Thanks for reading to this point. I got a little long-winded. That's a first.



John