He's Our Responsibility

He scared me the first time I saw him. I was riding on a motorcycle after dark and our headlights flashed a crossed his face. The lights reflected the white glaze covering his left eye. He was dirty, half blind, and extremely old. We passed him and I never said a word, but his face stayed with me.

The next day we headed to town early to do our grocery shopping at the market. On our way I saw him again. He was walking down the road hunched over an old walking stick. A tattered straw hat shaded his face. This time I asked about him.

“Who was he?”

“Where was he going?”

“Where is his family?”

 His name is Bonbass. He has no family, and he’s just walking everywhere and nowhere. I suggested we buy him something to eat, so we stopped and purchased food from a near by street vender. When we returned to give him the meal he was gone. For thirty minutes we drove around looking for him, but he was nowhere to be found. I ended up giving the meal to another lady that looked like she needed help. In Haiti you never have to look far for hungry people.

“We’ll help him next time,” I thought.

A week later I was standing along the road watching him walk towards me. Kenzy and I stood in silence as he slowly made his way to where we were standing.  I noticed his shirt was buttoned crooked and he was pigeon toed.

“In American we have homes for people like this. Nurses would take care of him,” I whispered to my husband.

“Really,” He said. “We don’t have anything like that in Haiti.”

When he finally greeted us we asked if he could show us his home. He agreed and motioned for us to follow him. We crossed a small ditch and came upon an opened area with 4 little huts built in a circle. They were nice little houses for Haitian standards. It was a small community of people living and helping one another.

“This isn’t so bad,” I thought.

However, Bonbass, walked passed the houses and started down an overgrown path. We marched through tall weeds that were damp from the rain that had recently fallen. Briers and small sticks scratched my legs as we made our way through the bush. Bonbass, wasn’t wearing shoes. He probably didn’t own any.

After a little while we came to his home. It was in the middle of an empty field away from the rest of the community. His house had been built by a mission organization at one time. Samaritan’s Purse built shelters for people in need after the earthquake hit. It was small, about the size of one of our tool sheds. It had four plywood walls and a plywood roof. It had a concrete floor and a small padlock to keep Bonbass’s possessions safe.  We all stood at the door while he reached into his pocket and pulled out a tiny leaf folded around his house key. I wasn’t prepared for what he was about to show me inside his home.

He opened the door and it took me a moment for my eyes to adjust to the light. As I peered into the dark little hut I saw that this man had nothing. There was no bed, no clothes, no plates to eat on, and no pots to cook with. Nothing! The only thing in the entire house was a piece of cardboard spread out on the floor where he slept.

I immediately began to think about my own grandfather back home and my body stiffened as I tried not to cry.  What if my papaw was living like this? What if my papaw reached an age where he was no use to anyone and everyone just left him behind? What if my papaw became more of a burden than a blessing?

Bonbass is my papaw! He’s your papaw too. And now that we know he’s there he’s our responsibility. 

Prison Feeding Program

I’m sitting in my bedroom thinking about the day that’s past. After getting out of the shower I can still smell the prison on me. I don’t know if the smell gets in my nose or if the memories are just so strong I remember the smell. Either way, I plan on smelling it for the rest of the day. It was my first trip to the prison since I’ve been back in Haiti. It was also our first time feeding the prisoners a hot meal.  Everything went well. Everyone got something to eat, and more importantly everyone was able to listen to a message about Jesus.

We started cooking around 8:00am. We prepared rice and beans with a Haitian sauce to pour over them. We didn’t know exactly how many people we were going to serve but we were guessing around, 130.  Haitian food takes hours to make. We worked all morning and half of the afternoon. We were cooking over a charcoal fire and making everything from scratch.  It was almost 2:00 by the time we finished. Once we were finished we started putting the rice in individual containers to pass out when we arrived. With every scoop I began to worry. “We're not going to have enough,” I thought. It looked like so much rice in the beginning, but it couldn’t possibly be enough. After we had finished we set back and counted the containers. We had, 92. It’s not enough. What are we going to do? There is no way we can make more. This took half the day to prepare!! My husband called one of the guards at the prison to get the exact number of inmates.

“Eskize m 'mesye. Konbyen prizonye ou genyen?” (Excuse me sir, How many prisoners do you have?)

“Katreven de. Ok Mesi.”

He looks at me an smiles. “They have 92 inmates today.”

No one says anything. We all just quietly smile to ourselves. Of course, there are ninety-two people. Would God have it any other way?

I didn’t say very much as we drove to the prison. My nerves started to set in. I never know how they will react to me. Will they listen? Will they riot? Only God knows. I had some notes wrote down on a piece of paper of what I wanted to say, but I was counting on God to show up once I was in there with them.

We arrived at the prison entrance. It was hot and the sun was beating down on me as I looked at the crumbling walls and faded paint on the side of the building. If this were in America the building would be condemned, but were not in America. This is Haiti.

I walked inside and told the guard my name. They confiscated all our cell phones so we couldn’t take pictures inside. It was the usual procedure. I stepped into the damp dark hallway and heard the lock of the first gate behind me. The men were yelling and fighting amongst themselves. They were dividing up the food they had just received. I walked up to the first cell door and smiled politely. As each one began to notice me the giant cell fell silent. I had a translator with me this time so I spoke in English.

“Hello, I hope you enjoy the food. May I tell you a short story before you eat?”

They agreed. I began telling them Jesus’ parable of the tax collector and the Pharisee. To help them understand, I called the tax collector a thief and the Pharisee a pastor. I choose this story because of the religious tyranny I’ve witnessed so many times in this country.

“Two men went to a church to pray,” I began.

“One was a pastor and one was a thief. The pastor prayed like this, ‘Thank you God, that I’m not like this thief. I don’t lie and steal. I always go to church and give money. Praise God, I’m such a good person.’ Then the thief prayed, ‘God, forgive me. I’m a sinner and I need your help.’

After the short story I asked, “Who do you think God blessed?”

The men were quiet for a moment. Then one man spoke up.

“The Pastor,” he said.

“Why do you think that?” I asked.

“Because God loves Pastors,” he replied.

“No, God blessed the thief because he asked for forgiveness.”

I could see this confused some of them. I went on to tell them about how Jesus gives us all second chances. How you had to do was ask. I also explained that I would be coming to visit them every Friday. I will bring food and a story. I told them if they had any questions or need prayer I would help them in whatever way I can. They thanked me and asked if I would pray for them now. They were silent as I prayed over the food. I thanked them for their time and told them I would see them again soon. I waved and walled away.

 As if a light switch was being turned on; the cell exploded again. Men began fighting and swearing. As I walked back down the dimly lit hallway they whistled and hollered at me through the bars. Some men reached their arms out trying to grab me. I walked out with my head up, unafraid.

The gospel was given. Now it’s up to Jesus to change their hearts…

My Children

I've spent the last 4 days with a house full of children. I don't know how you moms do it. Maybe its because I've never had a baby of my own so I haven't developed enough patients to withstand a mob of kids running all over my house. Maybe its because I have no electricity most of the time so I can't easily distract them. Maybe Haitian children are crazier than most. Whatever the reason, I know this for sure, I need a break! I sent them all home this morning and I sent my stepson to his grandmother's. I know I should probably take this time to clean the house and get ready for their return, but this couch feels so good. I've never realized how much I enjoy silence...lol. Even my dog is exhausted. He's passed out on the floor next to me as I'm writing this.

The kids that come here are actually really well behaved. They normally play well together and don't give me many problems. However, I have noticed they are all little garbage disposals. At first I thought, "Oh the poor little babies never get enough to eat." I always feed them as soon as they come over. After awhile I realized that children will eat continually if you allow them to. All I heard all day long was, "Ms. Carrie, can I have some corn flakes? Ms. Carrie, can have come cookies? Ms. Carrie, can I have more juice."
I told them I had real food for them but they refused. All they wanted was junk!!! How is it possible that I can turn a Haitian kid into an American in less then 48 hours??

As much as they drive me crazy it's all worth it once you see what your trying to teach them is actually paying off. One little girl that I was taking care of is named Alisha. She is about 5 years old, I think. I lived with her in the orphanage last year while I was teaching English. She came to visit me and I took her to the land to meet all the children in our sponsorship program. We really didn't have an agenda that day. I just wanted to spend time with the kids and make sure everyone was okay. We played soccer and sang songs. At one point I over heard Alisha talking to another little girl. She tapped her on the shoulder and whispered, "Hey, do you love Jesus?" The little girl nodded her head yes. "Me too" Alisha agreed.

Children can be a handful but they can also be such a blessing. I pray I can give them the love they deserve.

My Mission

Thursday morning my alarm went off at 2:30am. I opened my eyes and thought, “It’s time to go back to Haiti.” My grandpa was in the driveway at exactly 3:00am, as usually. He loaded up the truck as I took one last look at my room before turning off the lights. Leaving my comfort zone is never easy but the more I do it the less I think about it. He drives me to the airport in the dark and we don’t say much. It’s too early and I have too much on my mind. When he drops me off at the American Airlines terminal we say our goodbyes. I hate airports. It's like I’m walking through some kind of limbo. I’m in between one life and the other. Maybe it will get better once my husband can travel with me. For now, it’s a lot of alone time and thinking.

This trip I thought about the future.  I thought mostly about what my mission is. I know that the ultimate goal is to win souls to Jesus, but how exactly do I want to accomplish that? While I was home I spent time praying about this very question, and with God’s help I think I found an answer.…

My mission in Haiti is to strive everyday to understand and embody perfect love.

I want to love my husband. I want him to know that I believe he can be and do anything he wants.

I want to love my son. I want him to have a home he can come to where he feels accepted and comfortable. I want this house to be their refuge.

I want to love the children in my programs. I want to love them when they are sick and afraid. I want to love them when they lie and fight amongst themselves. I want to love them with praise and discipline.

I want to love the widows. I want to show them the light of Jesus when they are sitting in the darkness of abandoned buildings and back alleys.  I want to see them, not as another victim of a corrupted culture, but as a sister in Christ.

I want to love the prisoners. I want to believe that they are more than the sin that has overtaken their lives. I want to love them when they make obscene gestures and roll their eyes at the message of the gospel. I want to show them consistency with my love until they are forced to stop and ask why.

Lastly, I want to love myself. I want to remember the promises that were made to me by my Father. I’m not perfect and I can’t do it all, but he is and he can. His yoke is easy and his burden is light. He takes care of the heavy lifting all I have to do is love…..

This is my mission statement. I pray I will always strive for this no matter where I find myself.

“If I could speak all the languages of the earth and of angels, but didn’t love others, I would only be a noisy gong or a clanging cymbal. If I had the gift of prophecy, and if I understood all of God’s secret plans and possessed all knowledge, and if I had such faith that I could move mountains, but didn’t love others, I would be nothing. If I gave everything I have to the poor and even sacrificed my body, I could boast about it; but if I didn’t love others, I would have gained nothing.” 1 Corinthians 13:1-3

                                            

A Beautiful Plan

I feel like so many things have happened that has been leading up to what took place yesterday. God had it all lined up from the beginning I just couldn't see the whole picture until now.

There is two young girls doing a 2 month internship in the town that I live in. We've become friends in the short time they've been here and yesterday they asked if I could take them to the prison. They had heard me tell stories about it and they were intrigued. So we made the usual peanut butter sandwiches and we even brought some water filters to give out.

That morning I woke up feeling very sick to my stomach. I was nauseous, which is a symptom of having an ulcer. I didn't feel like going, but I knew how excited the girls were so I decided to tough it out. We got to the women's prison and I couldn't even walk in. Some lady was in there with this strange perfume on. I couldn't stand it. I thought it was going to make me sick. The girls couldn't smell it but I could! I stood outside while they gave out the bread and did a water filter demonstration. Once we were finished I thought to myself there is no way I can go into the men's prison. The smell in there is always so bad. It normally makes me nauseous even when I'm not nauseous to begin with!!

I was standing outside of the gates. I had already told everyone I was going to stay behind but then I started to get that feeling. I don't know if you've ever experienced it. For me its a feeling deep down inside of me saying, "You have to do this." It's almost like the Lord is physically pushing me forward sometimes. All I could keep thinking was, its time for them to hear the gospel message and learn about the prayer of salvation. They had already received the audio Bibles a couple weeks ago. I knew it was time they heard the truth from me.

I took a deep breath and walked into the front door. As soon as the first door closed behind me I was hit with a gust of wind. That familiar smell of body odor and urine hit me like a smack in the face, but it didn't make me sick. I thought to myself, "Ok, its going to be alright. God's here and he's going to take care of it." I didn't know what I was going to say but I knew God had promised all of us if we step out in faith he will give us the words. So I walked up to the cell and looked into the eyes of all those lost men. I grabbed the bars tightly and began to speak.....

I said, "Some people believe that you have to become a church member to be a Christian. They think you need to wear a suit and tie on Sunday mornings and act a certain way. That's the only way you can know Jesus, but Jesus never taught like that."

I looked down and noticed one man sitting on the floor. He rolled his eyes at me and looked away, but I still kept talking.

"Everyone has sinned. You have sinned and I have sinned."

"What sin have you done?" someone in the back yelled out.

I said, "I used to do drugs. I stole money to pay for drugs. I lied everyday to get what I wanted. I hated myself and I can't blame anyone else that hated me too."

There was complete silence. A few men sitting in the back began to stand up and walk forward. Their faces changed from annoyance to curiosity. Still I kept talking.

"Someone came to me one day and said I could be forgiven. Knowing that changed my life. You can find peace in Jesus. He died for us. All of us. I can't imagine how hard it must be in here, but I know Jesus sees you. I know this because he told me! The first time I came here I looked at you all and it broke my heart. I went home and cried for days. I dreamed about your faces. Even when I didn't want to think of you I couldn't stop. God wouldn't let me forget you! He believes you can be good men. He believes you can change. He believes in you and now he's asking you to believe in him!"

One man looked up at me with sad tired eyes and said, "I've been in this cell for seven years. I want out"
I started telling them about Paul and how he wrote some of the books they have been listening to while he was in prison too. I was trying to encourage them not to be angry with God. We couldn't possibly know his plans. Maybe they were put there so I could come speak to them on that day. Then I asked them if anyone would like to ask Jesus for his forgiveness. If anyone in there would like to receive Jesus in their lives.
One by one every man stood up and walked towards the front of the cell. Some stood and some kneeled but everyone in that cell bowed their heads and repeated the sinners prayer. It was the most precious moment of my life.

All the struggles and stomach aches and aggravations all seem kind of insignificant when you finally get to step back and watch God's glory be revealed. When I first came to Haiti I remember thinking I want to witness a miracle. Well, now I have. I've seen light flush out the dark. I've felt peace that surpasses all understanding. I've watched hardened men succumb to Jesus' mercy and grace. I have loved and been loved in a country that seems at times to have been robbed of all its humanity. Our God truly is an awesome God. He proves that every day. I'm just lucky that he has allowed me to be a small part of his beautiful plan.

Learning to Trust Him

I've been back in Haiti for about a week now. It always takes about a week for me to readjust and settle in. I have to get used to the language barrier, the food, and the heat all over again. It was easier this time because I haven't been gone that long. I went back to America because I was having horrible stomach pains. I probably could have dealt with it here, but honesty I just got scared. I don't have much trust in the Haitian hospitals and it was the first time I have been really sick here without understanding what was wrong. Turns out I had an ulcer. And from what I've heard ulcers are caused by stress....
Its ironic to me when I look back on all the blogs I've posted, I'm constantly talking about stepping out in faith and trusting God. I suppose I have done that. Physically I did everything God has asked me to do. I left my home and came to a new country by myself. I stay here because I remember the promise God has made to me. I married my husband because I know deep down he is the man God intended for me. I did everything right....on the outside. But inside I worry continuously about anything and everything. I worry about how I'm going to pay my rent. I worry about weather today I'm doing God's will. I worry about what my children will eat and how I'll have enough money for all of them to go to school. I worry about my husband and his walk with Christ. I worry about my son, about my dog, about my commitment to God. The list goes on and on and on.

How do you stop worrying?

My favotie Christian author is C. S. Lewis. He once wrote  “Do not waste time bothering whether you “love” your neighbor; act as if you did.As soon as we do this we find one of the great secrets. When you are behaving as if you loved someone you will presently come to love him.”

I know he's talking about love here but wouldn't the same rule apply to worrying? Worry and fear is the opposite of trusting God. Every time I begin to worry about something now I stop myself and say, "No! God's going to take care of it." Even if I don't really believe it. Even if I still have my doubts, I say it. And surprisingly it actually works. If you say something enough you'll eventually start to believe it. 

When I find myself not trusting enough in the Lord I act as if I do trust in him. I speak as if I have all the faith in the world he will come through. I know this sounds simple and a bit ridiculous but sometimes the most simple lessons are the hardest to learn. At least they are for me anyway..... 

What a Week!!

Its been a crazy wonderful week. I got married and I could not have asked for a better ceremony. It was beautiful. The perfect mix of American and Haitian culture. After the wedding we got to stay at a resort in the North part of Haiti thanks to a wedding gift from my Aunt and Uncle. It was really nice. Good food and air conditioning. Kenzy was in heaven.

Now that we're home it's back to work. I have so much to do I don't even know where to begin. Our well has been dug and I'm happy to report that we've hit fresh water. In the next couple weeks we'll begin construction on a kitchen and picnic shelter for our feeding program. I'm so excited to get started. It's something I've been waiting to do since I moved here.

Today I was able to visit a large hospital in the town of Ti Goave. I went with a group of Americans that are on a week long mission trip. They had 300 peanut butter sandwiches and they invited me to tag along while they passed them out. I honestly don't do well with sickness or hospitals but if helping people is why I'm here then there is no better place to go than a hospital. The very first room we went to there was a man who's hands were badly burned. He said he had been there for 15 days. It was a gas burn but he didn't give me any more details then that. After we passed the sandwiches out we all began to pray together. I over heard the man complaining that he didn't have any water. "If they can't give me any water then they can just take the sandwich back" he said. My first reaction was to get angry. "These people came all this way to give you a sandwich and all you want to do is complain" I thought! But I didn't let my flesh get the best of me this time. I've learned through experience that when someone is angry many times they just want someone to look them in the eye and listen to what they have to say. I mean really listen.
So, after the others left I stayed behind. I started asking him about the shortage of water and what its like to stay in the hospital. He told me about his suffering and I tried my best to imagine what it must feel like to be in so much pain and not even have cold water to drink. The hospital was so hot. How could anyone recuperate in these conditions? After he finished I told him that maybe next time I came I could bring water to pass out. That's when he looked at me funny and said, "Its not your job to worry about whether or not I have water."
I told him, "It is my job. Jesus made it my job."
Then a look of bewilderment came on his face that I have come to know so well. "Here's my chance" I thought!
I was able to give him an audio Bible and talk with him a little about the Lord. I told him I would be back soon and he said he would be there waiting. He smiled for the first time and waved saying "God Bless You" as I walked out the door.

God is truly amazing isn't he?? If I would have listened to myself and my own feelings I would have walked out of that room angry. Instead I listened to God and now I have a new friend. Maybe I'll even meet him in Heaven one day.....