My Expedition

Lately, I have been so frustrated. Just this day in and day out frustration. I think it cultivates from the feeling of despair I am constantly exposed to here. In this frustration, I discovered that when I was in America I subconsciously used many distractions and comforts to divert and resolve my frustrations so I wouldn't have to feel or even think about them. Well, those "luxuries" aren’t here. So, in the absence of such frustration diversions, I often am stuck with myself to - gasp- feel and think. And what an odd thing it is to be trapped with myself without an escape route. I am forced to analyze and find the root within me that feeds and grows my frustration. And every single time, I am exposed to the fact that I am only frustrated with the state of the world and myself. Feeling overwhelmed, I then am compelled to look at just how deep my internal sin condition exists which usually induces first a shutter and then quickly followed by a intense shriek to Jesus to come help restore my mangled heart. Lesson learned- Haiti encourages me to shriek like a little girl for the only thing that my soul was made for- Jesus.

"Praise be to the God and Father of our Lord Jesus Christ, the Father of compassion and the God of all comfort, who comforts us in all our troubles, so that we can comfort those in any trouble with the comfort we ourselves have received from God. For just as the sufferings of Christ flow over into our lives, so also through Christ our comfort overflows... And our hope for you is firm, because we know that just as you share in our sufferings, so also you share in our comfort.

We do not want you to be uninformed, brothers, about the hardships we suffered in (Haiti). We were under great pressure, far beyond our ability to endure, so that we despaired even of life. Indeed, in our hearts we felt the sentence of death. But this happened that we might not rely on ourselves but on God, who raises the dead. He has delivered us from such a deadly peril, and he will deliver us. On him we have set our hope that he will continue to deliver us, as you help us by your prayers. Then many will give thanks on ourbehalf for the gracious favor granted us in answer to the prayers of many." - Beginning of 2 Corinthians 1

Menos, the orphanage house dad and gardener, gives me massages on Sunday nights. First, he prays over me and from there- anything is possible. He makes a homemade massage lotion which consists of lemons and limes, hand sanitizer, some sort of ground up leafy substance, coconut milk and a Haitian secret ingredient- kerosene (yes, that was not a typo… he uses gas).  On my back, he uses the old skool open handed karate chop method. On my legs, I’ve asked him to use a rolling pen for a slow deep tissue massage. For his services, I pay him 100 goudes (about $2.50)… Tonight Zack was playing the guitar during my massage and Menos started singing this song in Creole about Jesus being the best doctor who can heal any sickness… the whole experience was soothing for my soul…

 

This weekend has been kinda interesting, Jay and I have been emailing a doctor in Jacksonville about skin problems we are having… Here are some snippets of that email conversation…

Jay - “I have a not-so-insignificant crotch rash… I have applied some diaper rash cream which seems to help, but not eliminate the issue. And, Jeremy has developed a similar rash in the similar region that is attacking him with a vengeance. And he claims I gave him the rash because he said he has never gotten one before. I say he got it because he is now living in Haiti for the first time, but either way, our crotches would appreciate some advice.” 

Jeremy- “Who should i send my crotch rash photos too? anyone specific or everyone included?” (joke) 

Doctor- “Jeremy, Again no crotch pictures from haiti are necessary, I guess that may open up a different internet funding stream for the ministry but probably not in line with the mission statement.  Definitely adds a different take to your blog! (more than you know doc) Good luck...Get your hands out your pants!!   Dont want to know how Jay gave this to Jeremy! What is happening down there?- (me and jay shared underwear) If you have developed a candida infection (will see isolated red dots seeming to show the infection is spreading or marching out, called satellite lesions) not just the simple diaper rash (generalized redness irritation, no "satellite lesions" ), then you would benefit from antifungal creams like used in vaginal yeast infections, miconazole, nystatin, etc… need to keep area clean and dry as much as possible and hope nothing falls off. :) just kidding, you hope.” 

Jay- “Jeremy is excited about taking Vagisil or something like it. I may have actually not given him the disease, because he has the "satellite lesions" and I have nothing of the sort, just the typical standard crotch rash for me… And Diana, please make sure yall pack Jeremy's vagina cream to bring down for him. It is difficult to find that stuff here (so Jer tells me, from his previous searches for such cream)" (real funny jay...) 

Diana- “i never thought i'd be buying vaginal cream for jeremy, but i'm very happy to do so!" (just hilarious D...) 

Jeremy- “Doc(tor),

As a long time advocate for rash treatments, I have always supported all cremes and ointments. With this being said, I must admit I have never had a rash. That preludes the fact that I don't know much rashes or treatments. Which brings me full circle to my question:    
 
Will antifungal vaginal yeast infection creme help non-vaginal, estrogen-less very manly satellite rash?”   

Doctor- “In your case, highly likely… Miconazole or antifungal should work. Not vagisil that doesn't have antifungal med just anti-itching. Pharmacist should be able to help if not sure. Likewise, I never thought I would be emailing Diana concerning Jeremy's vaginal cream, but that is what makes my job interesting”

So I had 3 classes today and 3 completely different experiences:

~I’d like to interrupt to say I teach High School… okay, that’s it… continue Jeremy~

In the first class there are 12 boys and 2 girls. The boys in this class are OBSESSED with soccer. They don’t want to do anything but play soccer. Other the other hand, the principle wants me to teach a well rounded class full of stretching, exercise and many sports. So what’s a teacher to do? Simple, I dangle soccer in front of the students like a carrot in front of a horse.  They do anything I say with the hope of playing soccer in return. And even towards the end of class, when I let them play soccer, I can blow a whistle and everyone will immediately begin doing pushups because they are terrified I might take the ball away…

The second class is the worst class… ever. There is a student who speaks English fairly well for a Haitian (his trademark phrase: “Do you like it…. or do you luuuuuuuve it”) He also thinks he’s extremely cool and American (he has never been outside Cabaret). This class had 5 boys and 4 girls. These boys think it’s hilarious to make fun of me and do nothing I say. Today that cumulated with the English speaking boy saying to me, “Shut the F@*% Up!” So I said “okay” and got the principle and tried to explain to him what happen. My explanation kinda got lost in translation with the principle as he came down and told the boys not to say that (the word for “must” in Creole sounds identical to the eff word in English, so he thought the student said “must” in Creole and I took offense at the word, not the context). Good did come out of the situation though because the principle stayed for the whole period and watched our class. In Haiti, teachers can hit students and students get physical punishment for misbehaving. So they are basically scared straight and with the principle present, I know the boys would do everything I said. So I told the girls they could leave and for one whole hour I ran, lunged and wall sat the boys into submission. When we first started running and were conveniently far enough away from the principle to hear, the boys (excited by escaping discipline from the principle) continued to crack jokes to which I simply replied, “Okay, tout Comic yo pral kouri” meaning “Okay, all comedians will run.” And like Forest, I just ran and ran and ran.  During the course of the class I heard cries of “Sispan kouri, w’ap touye nou” (Stop, you are killing us) and “M’ pa comic” (I am not a comedian). By the end of the class, I pulled aside a select few of the sweat drenched students to talk to them about respect. And it went surprisingly really well.

The third class is prolly my favorite class. 4 guys and 4 girls. We get along great because I think they’re funny and they think I’m funny- it’s a winning combination. They come up with clever and crafty ways to be sick or injured so they don’t have to do anything (gotta respect the creativity). So today I taught them karate, making it up along the way.

 

It's Friday morning, Allen, the 11 year old son of Charles, bangs on my door at 5:45 A.M. "You gotta wake up, I need your help," he says. I jump out of bed in the daze of sleep soaked adrenaline, I find myself pacing to his house with him. I enter the door finally coming to my senses saying, "Okay, what's going on?!" He responds "I need you to make me some mouse ears for my school project today."   

Needless to say I started the day off in a great mood and really energized. Then we left in the morning to complete a round of chores in Port-Au-Prince (hardware shop, Charles's house site, go to the bank and get groceries). After getting nails, we left for Charles house. Once there, I was walking around when I noticed rocks flying past my feet. Confused, I look over and see Austin Holmes. It took my body about 1.5 to 2 seconds to transfer the image right before my eyes to my brain and allow the neurons to process that one of my best friends is standing right before me IN HAITI. This was followed by a small heart attack. Which was followed by overwhelming joy and a major release of endorphins.   

So Austin Holmes gave Jay and I a surprise visit. It was beyond great and therefore have no need to try and explain the rest of his 3 days visit.   

Actually I would like explain one aspect of his visit. While here, we discovered new breathing techniques for holding our breath for as long as possible. Prior to last night, I can't recall ever holding my breath for longer than 2 mins. As of last night, I have eyewitnesses in Jay Cherry and Austin Holmes, my new record for how long I can hold my breath is 4 minutes and 50 seconds. It's ridiculous, my fingers and toes were complete numb, Jay said my face was turning blue, but it was an amazing experience between me and my heart that we will not soon forget...    

Gotta go to church now and pass out bread (see post below) we made yesterday for the entire congregation (about 200 peoples)...

                      Before                                                         After

Dear Friends - 

I want to help Tiwil (real name Anderson, dont know last name because its a french name and they all sound the same to me) get a visa for many reasons. I cannot start with any other reason except that his heart is more precious than anyone can imagine. I have not seen such a tender, loving, humble heart in many people. And it is only by the work of God's redemption that someone can have a heart so tender in a land so desolate. I keep learning more of his story, so I will share some of that...

He is 24 and became a Christian about 4 years ago through going to school on site where we live. His mom died in 2007 and he still feels sadness because of that, because his mom loved him a lot. Last year during the massive flood, his house was washed away. He was swept away about a mile and then grabbed hold of a tree and climbed up it, watching many Haitians float by screaming. He cannot swim though so he was forced to watch unable to help. His sister had her infant daughter swept away in the flood and she died. Tiwil has known much sadness and yet the other day when we were having a hard day here, he went home and cried for us because he felt so sad that some of the Haitians had been treating us poorly. If anyone spends 15 minutes with him, their heart would soften at the site of his heart for people and his infectious laugh.

So that explains why I love him, now I want to explain why I want him to be able to come to America. It is every Haitians' dream to come to America, but that doesn't mean every Haitian needs to come. (I do not want to turn Haiti into another America, but I do want Haitians to have the opportunity and ability to provide for their families and have hope to live tomorrow.) Still, I see in this man a heart for people that is special. And I want his horizons to be broadened. Growing up in a Haitian village makes it very difficult to understand life on a broader picture than just that village. I pray that with his heart and passion, and a bigger understanding of the world, he could bring hope and change to many people in his native country. To do that though, he needs to learn English, as any person who partners with American supporters needs to be able to communicate with them. And the best way to learn English is to live in it and be immersed. I have seen this first hand from living in Haiti for 6 weeks, and already feeling like I can communicate with anyone (though, of course, sometimes on a limited scale). So, I want Anderson to be able to come to America to study, to see, and to gain a broader perspective of the world our God is redeeming.

And I am so excited about the possibility of showing him amazing things we take for granted. Today I showed him Google Earth, and he had no idea there was such technology available to have photos of the whole world. Three weeks ago was the first time he had ever seen the internet. He has never used a computer. He didn't (gasp) even know that Michael Jackson had died. The world in a Haitian village consists of only that village. The struggle of making sure there is food to eat for the day leaves no room to worry about what else is happening in the world.

All that being said, I also hate that a dear friend of mine has to sleep on a concrete floor every night and has to worry about where the next meal will come from. I want to help him, and we feed him as much as we can without causing problems with the community  by only feeding one and not the other 5,000. (we still need Jesus to come multiply our bread). But my friend Anderson is special, and I hope that in learning English and being given the ability to dream, he can help to feed all 5,000 one day.

A visa is nearly impossible to get for someone from his social realm. But it is no more impossible than multiplying bread in front of 5,000 people. Jesus can and still does work miracles, and thus we are hoping for another one here.