We uneasily slept our first night under mosquito nets hearing their menacing buzz. At 4:30AM a screech broke my lucid dreaming. A womens voice pierced the early morning air. Her words were unintelligable, crackling over an amplifier somewhere distant. Or maybe very close it was imposible to know where, the way sound plays off the walls of my room. Angrely I rolled over and hid my head deeply in my pillow case filled with my socks and underwear.  But sleeping again was impossible. There was rarely a break in the noise. And If there was it was short. I lay in my sheet until dawn wrestling with tiredness and my attitude. I finally surrendered it to the Lord and asked him to multiply what sleep I had gotten.  I arose and started the daily morning routine which became a wonderful blessing:

find a way out of your mosquito net (no small task), brush your teeth, walk out to our open air office, read the Word, have breakfast and grumble about waking up at 4:30, hear some really bad "dad jokes", laugh, have morning worship, have a discussion about our daily devotional reading, pray, talk through work that needed to be accomplished that day, then do it (Lord willing).

Our first day we went to the site of the future YWAM Gonaives Campus.

All thirteen of us climbed into a pickup and took the thirty min drive to the site. Traveling by TapTap as it is know locally, is the best way to get around. We were quite a sight. Even with our numbers we hardly out did our haitian counterparts who could pack far more persons and goods onto four wheels then we would dare. Their efficiency is admirable.

Their efficiency is admirable.

We needed to be that efficient too. We were a full day behind because of our traveling difficulties over the pervious two days. We besieged the site with eagerness, and in turn, it challenged us with many questions. First and foremost:

where is it exactly?

This simple question would haunt our survey crew and frustrate us all for the next two days. Maula had purchased the property but the local government surveyor hadn't provided detailed boundary points.

The site was challenging in other ways. Rarely flat, it had two major potential water courses. Flooding was a major concern for the ministry. The earth is  rocky with cactus and little topsoil (a product of deforestation in the country) Haiti reminded me of Arizona and parts of New Mexico: rugged yet breathtaking.

On this rugged surface we roamed imagining what could be, feeling a bit of a sadness for what was. . . but not for long. Local ninos emerged from the brush, fascinated by our presence. We all smiled and laughed. Our dreams, hard-work, and decisions were ultimately for them. . .

I left the site wondering what I had gotten myself into. . .

     again*

*I am reminded of a song

"When I made up my mind

And my heart along with that

To live not for myself

But yet for God, somebody said

Do you know what you are getting yourself into. . .

I'm getting into you
Because you got to me, in a way words can't describe
I'm getting into you
Because I've got to be
You're essential to survive
I'm going to love you with my life" ReliantK

How wonderful is it that the Lord calls us to love Him by loving others. How amazing that what we really love to do and are gifted at is ultimately what He uses to bless others.

I wasn't thinking it at the time in Haiti, but now I know it to be true. . . again

 God is Love.

(1John 4)

It is impossible to absorbe everything you see, hear, smell, taste, perceive at once. The first two days being in Haiti wiped me out. As much as I love traveling, I have discovered that transitions are hard for me. While unspoken I felt and believe we all were feeling overwhelmed. Not two days previous I was sitting in Miami Airport enjoying a Chile's burger (a culture shock).   But more then overwhelmed by context, there was a lurking tension. My spirit felt uneasy. 

I'll have another post soon. . .

Frankly I’m not sure how to explain my trip. . .

I’ve tried since getting back to write it all out. My first attempt took the approach of Jules Vern. An epic tale with more exhaustive detail then should be read pour forth from my fingers. I had been watching the Lord of Rings extended additions while I was sick in bed with Dengue fever. I think that had some influence. As I started to grapple with some of the problems and sadness I saw in Haiti I wrote a short terse rant mostly to vent frustration with the world, sin, and myself. This is now my third and final attempt to share and make some sense of my trip which in spite of this building intro was on the whole very good, inspiring, and a sincere blessing from the Lord. Our team did some good work and was blessed with a spirit of unity. I think it has been harder for me afterwards then during. Entonces, all that to say I’m going to take the approach of the strong silent western cowboy (if that’s possible), and say what needs to be said if I can manage, and speak with photographs taken during the trip by the team and myself. They can probably tell a better story than I can. Enjoy and thank you for prayers and support.

Part uno: The Trip to Gonaives

The trip from Port au Prince to Gonaives is around 60 miles. . .

the thirteen of us traveled in the back of a diesel truck with very poor suspention. . .

            

it took six hours . . .

The difficulty of traveling exposed us to the incredible infrastructural problems face by Haiti. But also we were exposed to its beauty and its people. . .

When our truck would slow down (which was often considering our average speed) a Haitian or two would hop on for a free ride. They were always incredibly surprised.

Our truck ride in someways set the initial tone. Things were going to be hard. While the team was generally in good spirits we arrived tense, exhausted, and feeling very far from the familiar.

   

Late in the day as a storm was rolling in we stopped on the causeway just outside the outskirts of Gonaive. Last year the city was hit with three consecutive hurricanes. The city was then flooded and a massive lake formed displeasing thousands, and for a time cutting the city off from the major highway into the city.  Abandoned structures appear like ghosts, rising from the water. I felt heavy. I was burdened by an invisible weight without a name.

We arrived just before dark and were welcomed my Maula's family and settled into our new surroundings. . .

That night we spent our time getting to know Maula Jean Marie the local missonary we would be  designing for. He gave a presention of their ministy which started with a video you all can see on youtube http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=wflBx80wTMo
He also shared his testimony. A miracle of a story













more to come soon (and I don't mean in a week, probably tonight) . . .