Parenn

Parenn is Creole for Godfather.  A term of endearment and honor given to me in the not so distance past by a young man, Ti Papa, as we had begun to build a relationship.

See, this blog was supposed to recant the joyous festivities of his wedding, but instead my role as the Parenn took a harsh and painful turn today.  Ti Papa and his new bride, Manoucheka, were expecting a baby in February.  Though the idea of being married and having a baby came with fears, he didn’t back down and was willing to stand as a husband and a father, which is amazing, as this is sadly not the norm. 

So I write this tonight to help sort my thoughts, feelings, frustrations, doubts and to ask for prayer.  Ti Papa usually calls me in the mornings and afternoons to check in if he is working at our other site and as my phone rang this afternoon I assumed this call was like so many before, but it unfortunately it wasn’t.  Ti Papa said he was on his way to my house because his baby was dead.  DEAD, what do you mean dead? I was in shock just at the utterance of the words.  Upon his arrival Ti Papa stood strong and asked for Jen and I to come to his house.  Without hesitation, yet filled with the painful feelings of loss and pain that we know to well, we left and went with him.  As we drive through town its surreal, people are going about their normal daily lives and we going to Ti Papa’s house, because he has just lost his infant gift.  Upon entering the one room home, with a strange sense of pride he shows Jen and I his lifeless, yet beautiful baby girl.  He just keeps repeating she’s dead, she’s dead, she is dead.  Other family is in the house arguing that she isn’t, but it is their denial that was speaking.  She had no life, only a painful still beauty.  With no words of pastoral wisdom to say and no scriptures to share I held Ti Papa, a strong, well built young man, as he wept tears of pain, anger and doubt.  Emotions do not come with ease in Haiti, but there is no getting around this terror.  Through tears, badly translated words of console we discuss what he would like to do.  During this time Manoucheka is in such shock she is at a house around the corner and practically frozen in disbelief and pain.  She has just had the blessing of holding her precious gift for 2 days and today it was ripped away leaving behind the still present pains of birth and a void in her soul. 

After discussion and prayer, Ti Papa made the decision that he wants to bury his baby girl.  I’m confused at first, because I’m not sure if it’s a lack of comprehension or just the raw, gritty reality that death has brought forth. He grabs a pick axe, two friends, myself and his baby princess wrapped in blankets and we get in the vehicle. 

As we travel up the mountain road to his family’s property I don’t know which is more shocking, the death or the coming events.  Knowing the pain of losing a child did not prepare me for digging a grave.  Without hesitation our friends start chiseling away at the rocky and unforgiving Haitian soil, making an unfit final resting place for Ti Papa’s daughter.  As we take turns digging and holding cell phones for light, I’m lost in the stinging reality of the situation.  When Haiti’s soil relinquished its grip we laid her swaddled being in a cardboard box, surrounded it with rocks and crumbled cement and then proceeded to cover her shallow grave with the soil that just fought to let us in.  Before leaving one of the guys that so selflessly dug an infant grave, finished in prayer.  While not understanding all the words I was truly grateful to hear him plead for loving courage from our Father and that regardless of what we face, God is at our side.        

I can’t explain it, but life has a strange sense of cheapness here, that it’s disposable and not a gift.  Has the harshness of life robbed all the joy, all the hope and left only despair and pain?  I pray against this with all the faith I can muster. 

God, I don’t understand many plays of your hand.  I don’t pretend to have the answers and its times like this where my faith seems to be left with Ti Papa’s buried baby girl.  So tonight as sleep is replaced with pondering thoughts and tears I ask for You to bring healing and peace that can only come from you.  Not for me, as I believe I have much to learn here, but for Ti Papa and Manucheka.  Jesus step forth with your love and compassion, invade their home with Your Spirit of life.  Allow no evil spirits or damning thoughts to rob this time of growth that only comes from You.  Jesus, would you stand taller than any cultural myths, worldly chatter and Satan’s lies; be present so that Ti Papa and Manoucheka would know You never left their side or that of their precious baby girl.  May we all look forward to the day we meet Jesus and the children so many of us didn’t get to hold long enough. 

Guest Post from our friend Laurel

The ticket was bought.  Childcare arranged.  No plans, no expectations, no structure, just a week to be and see.

The drive from Port-au-Prince to Grand Goave was overwhelming in a fascinating way.

The sights, the sounds, the chaos.  

Hundreds of Haitians standing outside the airport to watch the passengers disembark, people weaving in and out of the gridlock traffic balancing huge boxes of bottled drink on their head, the constant piles of trash burning on the side of the road.

Horns honking, vendors calling.

Juxtaposition:

Noun

1. the fact of two things being seen or placed close together with contrasting effect.

Throughout the entire week, this word kept coming to mind.

Images that are polar opposites run side by side in the country of Haiti:

The blue-green of the ocean in all her splendor sits alongside the crumbling concrete facades and decay of manmade creations.

The swirl of mangoes lined up for sale in front of the sludge where the pigs wallow.

The lushness of the natural, physical beauty in stark contrast to the spiritual oppression that overtakes.

Colorful “tap-taps”, or taxis, emblazoned with “Merci Jesus” roll along the road in front of the voodoo temple marked with disturbing images.

Most telling, Jen and Sean shining their light into the darkness.

The whole week, I was able to observe.  Hear their conversations (most in Creole!), see them interact with the workers around them and watch them in the community.

Truth be told, when you’re the one doing the work, often times you don’t see what you are producing.  You’re focused on the task at hand and the rest of your to-do list.  Rarely, if ever, do you get to sit and take stock in your victories.

To see Jen and Sean and their way of living, to see Jen and Sean and their love for family, to see Jen and Sean and their hope for Haiti…

To see Jen and Sean and the affection their community has for them has left me breathless.

Nowhere could we go without people breaking into a smile and coming up to them.

Driving down the road, at the market, at church, at the beach…

Jen and Sean have created a home; have created a community where none existed.  They simply love and by being loving, have built bridges and started relationships for those lost and broken souls.

They are drawing so many to them and living in a way that is profound to those of us who crave ease and comfort.

Truth be told, it’s not all sunshine and hearts for them.  

I saw tears, I saw frustration and exhaustion.  I heard moments of impatience and had conversations tinged with fear.

Over and over, I was able to see them seeking to do what the Lord desires of them and be exhausted with the day-to-day burdens of life.

They are truly the laborers, the sowers of the next generation.  The vision and passion they have for a new Haiti – a gospel-centered one – leaves no doubt at the continued fruit they will continue to bear by God’s grace.

Beauty is in the eye of the beholder and as I was the beholder this past week, I was captivated by what the Lord is doing, through Jen and Sean, in Haiti.

Yet, one thing is sorely lacking.  Prayer.

Being burnt out and overwhelmed in the midst of ministry that goes far beyond a nine-to-five, five days a week job is a dangerous place to be.

If ever there was one thing I would impress upon you, it is to labor alongside them in prayer.  Plead, beg, seek the Lord on behalf of Jen and Sean, Major, Addy, and Beckett.

Being blazers of a new trail means no one has gone before them.  Being leaders in their community means there is no one to lead them.

They need to be reminded of who they are in Christ Jesus.  They need to, at every hour, be filled with the Spirit to continue to do the tasks that are set before them.  They need to be filled with an unspeakable joy and a peace that passes all understanding as they have left everything comfortable and familiar to do what is uncomfortable and unfamiliar.

The Enemy wars hard against them because of the work they are doing for the Lord.  We need to go to battle with them, holding up their arms for them when they are weary, reminding them to be strong in His might and not their own, and to continue to be rooted in the truth of the gospel and the freedom afforded to them because of the cross.

Jen and Sean, it was a beautiful privilege and joy to have this time with you.  May there be many more and may you remember to always keep your mind stayed on him who keeps you in perfect peace (Isaiah 26:3).

Christmas in Haiti

‘Twas the night before Christmas, and all through the house, not a creature was stirring, not even a mouse...

Well, maybe a mouse, but let’s pretend they are not here!  

Christmas in Haiti this year was a time to reflect on the true meaning of the Holiday.  Not just because we were in a foreign land at all, but because the normal hustle and bustle and traditions that we are used to were not going to happen this year.  No last minute shopping, no cookie exchanges or tacky Christmas sweater parties, no family gatherings, not even the traditional Christmas Eve service.   All good things and all missed, however, I truly believe that those things were replaced with other great memories this year.  

Last minute shopping:  Jen and Addyx, with the seven girls that live on site, went to the market.  Not the super market, but the open-air tent market.  We were in search of food needed for holiday parties and new shoes for church and some upcoming weddings.  It was no Target or Walmart, but it was just as overwhelming! 

Cookie exchange:  The team that was here the week before Christmas brought Gingerbread houses for each house of kids to do and cookies to decorate.  There was no exchanging, but they were tasty! 

Tacky sweater party:  Oh, how I wish I would have snapped a photo, but I did see what would have been the greatest tacky dress for a Christmas party at a roadside stand for sale.  It was shiny and sparkly, red and green and all sorts of fun!  

Family gatherings:  Christmas Eve we had a campus party with all the kids to celebrate Christmas.  We sang (not my family) but others certainly did!  There was dancing, story telling, gift giving and we ended the night with some fireworks.  Also we squeezed in Face Time dates with our Texas family and our Florida family.  The pastor of our church in Haiti and his family invited us over to dinner on Christmas day.  We were so blessed by the time at their home.  They didn't expect anything from us and just loved on our children and us.  Our kids were even each blessed with a gift that night; a racecar, bow and arrow, and a dollhouse kitchen set.  

Christmas Eve service:  After the festivities at the Children’s Village were over we came home and got our kiddos to bed.  Relaxed, talked and listen to some music.  We thought about a song we sing every Christmas Eve, but couldn't think of the name.  Thankfully when we reached out to our Pastor back home he responded and we immediately downloaded it and it was on repeat for while.  We sat and stared at the tree, in the peaceful quietness soaked in the words to the song and realized how much we are loved. Once we got our second wind, we played Santa and made sure the stockings were hung with care. 

Christmas morning was joyful!  I heard the two older kids wake up and I jumped up, but it was dark and I was tired.  Then I stopped and heard a sound, it was Major's iPad, he turned a movie on in their room and they stayed in bed until the sun came up...WHAT!!!  Christmas morning found us up at 5:45 and the squeals of joy began, and so did the coffee.  After the gifts were shared and all things opened we had breakfast and enjoyed the moment of no rush to go or do anything.  After breakfast we headed outside to try out the new scooter and skateboard.  We then decided to see what the older boys that live on site with us were up to.  I think we were more excited to give them their presents.  We sat everything out under our gallery upstairs and called them up.  They each enjoyed opening their gifts and assembling their new skateboard.  Later that afternoon we had lunch and Beckett and I enjoyed a great holiday nap.  Then that evening we headed out to our pastors house to spend dinner with them and some other local missionaries.  

We were told that since we would be somewhere new for Christmas this year to try to start a new tradition, do something that would be familiar to the years past.  One thing we did that I love was the gingerbread Nativity Set.  We started it a few days before Christmas; we built the stable and decorated it and the animals, the next day we did Joseph, Mary and the Angel and then Christmas day we did Jesus and the wise men.  It was fun and we had great conversation about why we celebrate Christmas.  Although, my kids know the reason for the season they still love to receive gifts, the anticipation and the surprise!  And Sean and I love to see them receive their gifts, oh the joy they have, and the joy we get in seeing them.  What the Lord must think and feel when we rejoice in the blessings and the gifts He has given us! 

I pray that no matter our circumstances, everyone found joy this Christmas season and celebrated the birth of our Lord and Savior! 

Merry Christmas to all, and to all a good night!  

And here is to a Great New Year!