I am in fact alive. I have not written anything in 2 months. Not because there has been a lack of things to write about but more because I have been working on other things.
"other things?" yeah, other things. "like what?"
LESPWA.
Beginning October 1st (less than 10 days) our new website goes live and my hope is that you can start following me, us (jay, diana, ruben [our haitian friend], austin [our american friend]) in our continued efforts in Haiti.
www.lespwameanshope.com
Lespwa does in fact mean hope in french creole, the spoken language in Haiti. On our new website we will be posting newness almost everyday to keep you as up to date as possible with events, plans, happenings, dreams and secrets.
A Lespwa Summit meeting next week.
A 7 city fall tour.
3 cords.
Haiti One.
New videos, merchandise, photos, blogs.
With one year under our belt, we are getting organized and in the beginning stages of launching a full on movement of hope by
mobilizing passion
pursuing restoration
with the vision of Haiti transformed
My dear friend Cole wrote this and I think it is wonderfully put. If you have time its worth a read...
"Last night, I dropped my friend, McKenzie, off at her car after house church. When she got out of the car, I said, “Be safe.” Almost immediately, I looked at Josh - sitting in the passenger seat - and said, “I’m never going to say that again.”
We live in a culture consumed by safety. There are organizations completely dedicated to making sure we’re safe while working and traveling and eating and doing just about any other common practice.
And, being good westerners, we’ve allowed our cultural obsession for safety to define our lives as Christians. We’ve spent the last several hundred years sterilizing our relationship with Christ into a religion that is neat, defined, predictable… might I say, systematic? We’ve worked hard to eliminate as much of the unknown as possible, and we wonder why we feel distant from a God who exists in the mysterious. Today, we try to compensate with our heads by creating large educational institutions where we can further define and attempt to know God intellectually.
Hence, today, my friend Dustin called me and asked :
What happened historically that caused Christians to stop being influencers and creators of culture? Where did our creativity go?
The answer : It was driven out by our fear of the unknown and our lust for answers.
Creativity and safety are incompatible.
Creativity is willing to step into the unknown and bring something new into existence.
Creativity is about an unbridled heart that is so free in who it was created to be that it is unstoppable.
Creativity is central to EVERYTHING God does. And I’m not just talking about the creative work of the land and seas and animals and you and me. I’m talking about things like redemption, peace, beauty and hope. These things can only exist when we tap into the creative heart of God.
When I pass a homeless drug addict on the street, I can respond with my earthly, uncreative heart that sees what is before me. Or, I can choose to look on with the creative heart of God that sees something that is yet to exist. God looks onto what seems like a dark canvas of nothingness and imagines a beautiful life - a tree bearing all kinds of good fruit that nourishes those who come to eat of it. Recently,I was talking with a guy who has lived and worked in Haiti for the last 27 years. He said,
“the most difficult thing to overcome in Haitian culture isthe pervasive mindset of “present hedonism.”
And it seems that statement is true for lots ofAmericans (especially American Christians) as well. We’re only concerned with the present, the now, today. We’ve lost the ability to dream. In short, his assessment is that one of the largest hurdles in Haiti is a lack of creativity.
That night, I posted this online :
Thinking about two future Haitis : One rebuilt on the foundation of creativity and the other built on the foundation of utility.
And the sole response :
I like the one where their foundation is Jesus
And that’s where we stand today - in a world where Christians have erected a wall of fear, prejudice and sterility between creativity and Jesus.
But when we truly look at the heart of Jesus and the river of the Holy Spirit, all we see is the unexpected. I remember going to the Grand Canyon several years ago. I was on the road with some friends, and we drove all through the night. The next morning, when I woke up, we were parked in a campsite several hundred yards from the hole. I was so excited to start exploring that I skipped breakfast and jogged up the path to the canyon. It was beautiful. We hiked all day along the ridge occasionally walking out on the narrow pieces of rock that jutted from the main path - only 3 feet wide with hundreds of feet of cliff on each side. And no rails!
God wants to take humanity deep in the mystery of Himself, but for generations, Christians have stood on the bank of the river of His Spirit. And over time, the river has carved out a canyon before us. That canyon gets deeper and deeper. The rushing waters that we’re meant to swim in get farther and farther away. Some thought about diving in for a while, but eventually the river just looked like it was too far down to jump in. So we started building a fence. And today, that fence keeps us safely perched on top of the canyon. We have taken to study the rocks and the sand and the bushes. We become intimately acquainted with the signs of what once was. And as we turn our backs to the river, we settle into the comforts of the land.
But I’m so thirsty. And I know that there are people in the world that are too - people that are ready to swim in the river of God, not exactly sure what will happen, but ready nonetheless.
So, what do you say we tear down the fence, stand on the edge of the cliff and jump into the unknown, beautiful, creative heart of God?"
Title: Outreach Director.
Meaning: I get the pleasure of exploring Haiti, scouring local communities to discover indigenous churches who need help so I can connect them with MOH resources and teams while simultaneously connect the teams with MOH's vision to love and help the community.
Umm, so I'm stoked.
Several high schoolers from Norman, Oklahoma are having fun 30ft outside the window of ladies side of the new guest dome. Some ladies say through window, “Can you guys keep it down please?” They oblige but being as they are high schoolers, the noise level once again rises. Shortly after, two ladies in their traditional night gowns from Austin, Texas walk outside the front door around the building where these teenagers are positioned. They begin their onslaught with “ You guys have to move! MOVE RIGHT NOW!!!” They point their fingers direct and strong so there is no mistaking who they are calling “SOO rude”. The teenage boys, ingesting the bombardment of outrage, exchange curious looks. One of the ladies step forward, no undoubtedly squints her eyes, raises her eyebrows and opens her mouth, “Have you guys been drinking?!” Collin, 15 years old, has had enough. He gets out of his hammock, stands tall and responds, “Yeah..... COCA-COLA!!!!” The older ladies, physically taken aback, are uncharacteristically silent. Brandon, 18 years breathing, eyes wide and mouth agape says, “Are you serious?! We are on a mission trip in Haiti- how DARE you question my moral integrity like that- GOSH!” and with that Collin releases a new counter onslaught, one that makes people of the older kind in their anger state have blood that literally verges on boiling- laughter. You see, when an adult is in the process of scolding a younger person and the response is laughter, the adult not only feels disrespected but also experiences a lack of sense and belonging in the world. The grumbling older ladies walk back disgusted and discontent while the young teens throw back their cokes and recount the whole situation, just a little quieter than before.
We live with a cat that is affectionately known around these parts as “worst”. And that's an understatement. A list of accomplishments: - The cat has, on multiple occasions, broken through the screen window because its too lazy to go through the front door thus allowing an open invitation AND entryway to the 5 trillion species of insects of Haiti to a bedside feast, courtesy of me.
- One of Cat's favorite games is called, “How many places can I poop besides the litter box?”
- The cat goes on wild excursions in the outside world only to bring back her findings as if we were even interested (this weeks examples: she waltzes in with a mouse in her mouth and takes it over to my dirty clothes pile AND Austin found her munching on a half eaten lizard {Haitian size, not American} our newly blood stained, complements to cat, front porch.)
- It has an abstinence problem or she just really likes being a mother, either way, we don't want any more kittens.
- Cats are supposed to be graceful but this cat is clumsy. Or reckless. Or spiteful. Just stop knocking over our stuff. Thanks.
- One time, true story, Jay heard her say something in English but now, upon further questioning, she pretends to not know any English... jerk...
So I will leave you with 6 reasons to ponder over why we feel this cat has more than earned her name “worst”. Other nicknames are welcomed.
 From top to bottom:
Me and Vixama standing at the tombstone rock of a mass grave with over 100,000 bodies buried from the earthquake.
A hope house kid enjoying some rays at the beach.
Me getting swarmed by school munchkins.
Sunset over the horizon at MOH.
Dear Staff at Mission of Hope,
My name is Shaina Ascone, and I was one of the many Americans who showed up at your doorstep last Sunday, May 16th, after our team was in a horrible truck accident. A few of us would not be alive today if it were not for your help, triaging, and swift response. Thank you so, so much for the part you had in stabilizing and aiding all members of our team. Everyone is doing great...four of the ten Haitians are still in the field hospital in Port-au-Prince, but they are better. One is going to to be military evacuated to the States for better care. One of the seventeen Americans is still in the hospital in Miami, but is doing exceedingly better as well. Everyone else is home, resting and recovering.
That first paragraph is a miracle in words, because none of us should be here to tell you this. God showed up on that mountain last Sunday, and He has been with us every step of the way since, including guiding us to your mission, which is located less than ten minutes from the site of the accident. That was no coinidence. Thank you for being His hands and feet.
With Love in Christ,
Shaina Ascone
Today started off as a regular Sunday.
Church began at 9:30am, instruments riding that Caribbean sound wave and then, without fail, a team member walks up to me in the middle of my jam session to ask me a question that apparently couldn't have waited until after church. Then we head to “Gwopapa Poul” or “Big Daddy Chicken” for our Sunday lunch. We return to MOH with the Hope House kids awaiting in the shadows of the playground with the gleam of “playtime” in their eyes. So I, of course, continued my quest to show all kids how much stronger I am than them by doing pull ups with kids hanging around my torso. Then the security guard yells my name...
He had his walkie talkie covering his mouth with an urgent look on his face. He told me there has been an accident with missions people and that I need to drive to a local town to help them. Kind of confused, I walked to my apartment to get Jay and the keys to a MOH pick up truck. Some translators hop in the bed of the truck and we headed down to the clinic to try and figure out what was going on. I exited the truck hoping to find someone to tell me something. I look over my shoulder as I hear a car approaching. It is a tap tap- which is basically a truck with a colorfully cage on the back and benches to sit people to taxi them around.
It U-turns and backs into the entrance of the MOH clinic. As it rolls closer, time slows down. I notice a white girl through the dust lifelessly turn her head towards me, face and arm covered in dried blood. Her head droops and I begin to survey the rest of the passengers who are slowly becoming visible. Everyone is covered in blood. The tap tap stops 5 feet from me. I glance down to see 3 Haitians laying in between the seated white people in the bed of the taptap. One has a mangled foot. Another has his tibia and fibula bones broken and completely exposed laying on top of shredded flesh. The last Haitian is face down and motionless.
Someone yells my name which snaps me out of my surreal state. We have to unload them onto stretchers immediately and place them in triage for assessment. Our initial team: ER doctor, Orthopedic PA, EMT, nurse, chiropractor, ex-police officer and me. So I listen and do whatever the doctors tell me. Get gloves. Check. Get in the taptap and lift these people out onto a stretcher. I lift and place. Lift and place. Lift and place. When the third person gets unloaded onto a stretcher, two more cars pull up with more injured people. More dust, more blood.
The Numbers:
27 people injured
15 people from a missions team out of Missouri
2 MOH ambulances to transport patients to University of Miami Hospital in PAP
The Story:
A missions team, having finished helping a remote school in the mountains for the day, gathers in a tap tap, larger than a pick up and smaller than a dump truck. They have Haitians jump on with them thus allowing a few brave souls to sit on the roof (there are benches for seating up there too). As they progress down a steep sided mountain road, the brakes give out. The road turns, the driver follows suit with too much speed sending the taptap rolling and throwing people out (no seat belts provided).
Back to the triage. Madness. We unload everyone. Head injuries and concussions. Lacerations abound. Blood all over the ground. People running around everywhere. I was running around everywhere.
Lifting, placing, finding.
Saline, morphine, needles and syringes.
I felt like I went patient to patient.
41 year old American woman. Help change her IV. She grabs my arm and looks at me with a similar blank look as a newborn baby. Somethings wrong. Grant, EMT, repeatedly asks her where she is to which she finally replies with a slight and soft “walmart”. We grab her IV and push her in an ambulance, shut the doors, gone.
18 year old American girl. Diabetic. Just recently involved in an accident and had her spine fused. Now complains of tingly fingers. I am told to find something with sugar in it that she can quickly digest. Run into the pharmacy. Needle in a haystack becomes relevant. My hand is placed on the top of my head as I let out an overwhelmed sigh. Instantly the visiting pharmacist walks in having just arrived to the scene. 30 seconds later I walk out with quick dissolve sugar tablets and then place them in girls mouth.
21 year old American male. Holding two gauze pads over his forehead and eyes. Bottom of his face covered in blood. I went with the ER doctor into, where else, the ER. The male removed his pads to reveal huge cuts with equally huge flaps of skin. The doctor asks me to be her ER Tech. I gather and hand her things she needs to perform. I watch as she slowly crafts his face back together. Through stitching and staples and an hour and a half of remolding, his face looks like a face again.
The whole ordeal, from the abrupt arrival to last patient transferred, was about 4 hours. When it was over and I began walking up to the guesthouse, I thought about the phone calls being made to the students parents. “There's been an accident, pray.” That's about one of the worse things you can hear. Four months ago, it was, “There's been an earthquake, pray.” Today was an instant reminder of the horrific tragedy that crippled Haiti. Instead of 27 people, there were millions.
For me personally, there is one main difference between today and mid January. Today, I felt better prepared. Everyone and everything felt better equipped. Progress is being made here. Slowly but surely. Today provided a glimpse of hope for Haiti's future. I hope that you continue to pray for Haiti and for the health of the injured and their families.
A guy came into the hospital the other day with his infant daughter, sat down and then asked a woman to watch his daughter while he used the restroom. He never returned. No one knows who he was. So now we have an abandoned baby girl we are keeping at the patient dome until we can figure out what exactly to do next because we have no records of anything in regards to this baby girl.
Pray for her. Shes not eating much.
One of the biggest blessings God's bestows upon me is a heart broken for His people. It ignites compassion which drives action. Without a broken spirit, my life revolves around me. I always hear, “Be careful, it's a dangerous thing to ask God to break you.” I feel it is absolutely the most important thing to ask. Brokenness leads to God's wholeness. Break me, shatter me, give me strength to do whatever it takes to rid me of me. I'll be careful when I am uncertain about the future. But when I know God is for me and loves me and wants the absolute best for me, I'll throw my cares and hesitations to the wind and hope to never see them again. I boldly ask God to penetrate me to my core, break my shackles of uncertainty and free me from the death grip I have on myself. I need to be broken every minute of every hour of every day. I've got nothing to lose and everything to gain. And in this brokenness, I want to love people with no filters or end game. I want to love them just for the sake of loving them empowered by God's love for me. It just makes sense. I am loved to love. The perfect harmonious love of the Trinity showering us with love from Heaven. Today, more than any other day in my life, I want to explore this life God has set out for me.
Why do I ever settle for anything less?!
What happens if I stake my whole life around what God has promised for me?!
What does God, the creator of creativity, have in store for me?!
Sometimes the Gospel makes perfect sense which is a clear reminder that the Spirit is alive and actively pouring through me.
It's good to be alive.
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