In 12 hours, we will be on a plane to Canada; or more specifically, out of Haiti. I know all the details - flight numbers, flight times, which seats we will have on the plane, how many pounds overweight our luggage will be, when we will land, who will pick us up, where we will sleep tomorrow night, even what we will be wearing.
But I have no clue what tomorrow brings. No offense google calendar.
For the past year, Haiti has been home. Seeing these words on the page as I write them, my head says they should look wrong, but they don't. Haiti has been our home. It has been normal to wake to the sounds of roosters and mototaxis. Normal to hear the sounds of packs of dogs roaming the neighbourhood while I fall asleep, or even the occasional gun-shot as justice is served in a place where some believe it justice to shoot the person who robs you. It has been normal to see beggars in all sizes and ages -- old women, little boys, and everything in between. God help us that is has been normal to see beggars, especially children.
Normal this year has been seeing broken-down vehicles parked in the middle of the street with the hood up and stones around the tires, a green branch functioning as a traffic cone; it has been normal to see sewer grates missing on roads as I veer around the cavernous holes; it has been normal to see what was the neighbourhood dump turn into a building lot and a home be built right on top; normal to see dour-faced charcoal vendors slumped over their wares at the side of the road in the heat of the day; normal to see goats and donkeys and cows and pigs and chickens roam the streets of this city of 3 million souls; normal to check the water and the electricity every night before I go to bed; normal to check the two locks on the gate, two locks on the front door, two locks on the back door and even the locks on the patios upstairs front and back before heading to bed. I don't mind leaving all of those 'normals' behind. As a Christian, I look forward to a day when aall of these normals will be unnecessary, and I pray we can all work together to make that happen even before Jesus returns.
But there are other normals I will miss. Despite the chaos of the roads of Port-au-Prince, I will miss what I have experienced as the courtesy and humour of Haitian drivers. I will miss the staff who worked in our home, even though there were days their limits frustrated me, they have become a part of us and being us without them will take an adjustment. I will miss our dogs - Pearl and Angel - first dogs our family of 27 years have ever had, but sure to not be the last as they have inspired us to become a dog family once we get to Fergus. I will miss my neighbours -- the Whites, the Shandorffs, Helen Kim next door and my first ever Voodoo witch doctor neighbour across the road - Lupey and his wife Miriam. I will miss our church family here in Haiti at Quisqueya Chapel - a host of inspiring folks who sacrificially give themselves in ministry all week not to mention the way they work to keep the Chapel going. I will miss those who became our friends here in our small group - Austin and Martha Snowbarger, Tyson and Paula Bohlinger, Jason and Andrea Schmick, and especially Randy and Karen Lodder and their family, though I suspect we will see them again, regularly.
I will miss Sous Espwa - the ministry of the Christian Reformed Church's World Missions and World Renew - and the incredibly inspiring staff I served with: Larry Luth who shared my office and my province of origin, who oriented me in so many ways and yet gave me space to serve. I will miss our Friday afternoon chats and the window he gave me into what God is doing in him; Lunise Cerin Jules, the World Renew Country Consultant (boss) who stopped by yet today at our house to wish us well. She is an old soul with a fiery young heart. She has taught me more than she can imagine. I will miss the rest of the staff -- Fevrier Jean Cherubin whom I can't imagine not smiling, Daphnee Pierre who I can still hear singing, Jackson Gabelus whose persistent hope and hard work despite all the suffering and brokenness I know he knows are an inspiration to my faith, Jacky Chery whose workload at Perspective Reformee would have crushed a mortal long ago, and Massillon Coicou who somehow seems to have a billion things on the go all the time and yet never misses a deadline. I will miss the helper staff - Jean who makes the coffee and keeps the offices clean, Prens whose street-knowledge has been instructive to me numerous times, and Fritznel whose appreciation for little things is a humbling and beneficial food to my soul. It will be weird not going in to work on Monday, and Tuesday, and so on.
But most, I will miss the incredible gift God gave me this year. Yes, I did some work. Valuable work in my opinion -- in fact, I will REALLY miss my students at the seminary -- but the work I did is nothing compared to the work God did on me and on my family. This was a year our unique family of disparate-aged-children had the opportunity to be incubated in mission together as we lived in the same house and served in the same city and struggled with a lot of the same challenges not just in work but to our faith. This was the year we sang more than any year before; the year we played more cards and sat in more rocking chairs and generally were WITH each other in a way we simply somehow hadn't been before. I will miss this year, and yet, I and all of my family will carry what we have received this year as God the author and weaver of our story has knit it into who we now are.
Yeah, Haiti was our home for a year. And tomorrow we leave. But I suspect, along with the eight suitcases, three carry-ons, four back-packs and one guitar we have packed by the door and ready to go for the morning, we may just take a little Haiti with us.
But I have no clue what tomorrow brings. No offense google calendar.
For the past year, Haiti has been home. Seeing these words on the page as I write them, my head says they should look wrong, but they don't. Haiti has been our home. It has been normal to wake to the sounds of roosters and mototaxis. Normal to hear the sounds of packs of dogs roaming the neighbourhood while I fall asleep, or even the occasional gun-shot as justice is served in a place where some believe it justice to shoot the person who robs you. It has been normal to see beggars in all sizes and ages -- old women, little boys, and everything in between. God help us that is has been normal to see beggars, especially children.
Normal this year has been seeing broken-down vehicles parked in the middle of the street with the hood up and stones around the tires, a green branch functioning as a traffic cone; it has been normal to see sewer grates missing on roads as I veer around the cavernous holes; it has been normal to see what was the neighbourhood dump turn into a building lot and a home be built right on top; normal to see dour-faced charcoal vendors slumped over their wares at the side of the road in the heat of the day; normal to see goats and donkeys and cows and pigs and chickens roam the streets of this city of 3 million souls; normal to check the water and the electricity every night before I go to bed; normal to check the two locks on the gate, two locks on the front door, two locks on the back door and even the locks on the patios upstairs front and back before heading to bed. I don't mind leaving all of those 'normals' behind. As a Christian, I look forward to a day when aall of these normals will be unnecessary, and I pray we can all work together to make that happen even before Jesus returns.
But there are other normals I will miss. Despite the chaos of the roads of Port-au-Prince, I will miss what I have experienced as the courtesy and humour of Haitian drivers. I will miss the staff who worked in our home, even though there were days their limits frustrated me, they have become a part of us and being us without them will take an adjustment. I will miss our dogs - Pearl and Angel - first dogs our family of 27 years have ever had, but sure to not be the last as they have inspired us to become a dog family once we get to Fergus. I will miss my neighbours -- the Whites, the Shandorffs, Helen Kim next door and my first ever Voodoo witch doctor neighbour across the road - Lupey and his wife Miriam. I will miss our church family here in Haiti at Quisqueya Chapel - a host of inspiring folks who sacrificially give themselves in ministry all week not to mention the way they work to keep the Chapel going. I will miss those who became our friends here in our small group - Austin and Martha Snowbarger, Tyson and Paula Bohlinger, Jason and Andrea Schmick, and especially Randy and Karen Lodder and their family, though I suspect we will see them again, regularly.
I will miss Sous Espwa - the ministry of the Christian Reformed Church's World Missions and World Renew - and the incredibly inspiring staff I served with: Larry Luth who shared my office and my province of origin, who oriented me in so many ways and yet gave me space to serve. I will miss our Friday afternoon chats and the window he gave me into what God is doing in him; Lunise Cerin Jules, the World Renew Country Consultant (boss) who stopped by yet today at our house to wish us well. She is an old soul with a fiery young heart. She has taught me more than she can imagine. I will miss the rest of the staff -- Fevrier Jean Cherubin whom I can't imagine not smiling, Daphnee Pierre who I can still hear singing, Jackson Gabelus whose persistent hope and hard work despite all the suffering and brokenness I know he knows are an inspiration to my faith, Jacky Chery whose workload at Perspective Reformee would have crushed a mortal long ago, and Massillon Coicou who somehow seems to have a billion things on the go all the time and yet never misses a deadline. I will miss the helper staff - Jean who makes the coffee and keeps the offices clean, Prens whose street-knowledge has been instructive to me numerous times, and Fritznel whose appreciation for little things is a humbling and beneficial food to my soul. It will be weird not going in to work on Monday, and Tuesday, and so on.
But most, I will miss the incredible gift God gave me this year. Yes, I did some work. Valuable work in my opinion -- in fact, I will REALLY miss my students at the seminary -- but the work I did is nothing compared to the work God did on me and on my family. This was a year our unique family of disparate-aged-children had the opportunity to be incubated in mission together as we lived in the same house and served in the same city and struggled with a lot of the same challenges not just in work but to our faith. This was the year we sang more than any year before; the year we played more cards and sat in more rocking chairs and generally were WITH each other in a way we simply somehow hadn't been before. I will miss this year, and yet, I and all of my family will carry what we have received this year as God the author and weaver of our story has knit it into who we now are.
Yeah, Haiti was our home for a year. And tomorrow we leave. But I suspect, along with the eight suitcases, three carry-ons, four back-packs and one guitar we have packed by the door and ready to go for the morning, we may just take a little Haiti with us.
