Porch Parables

Frequently, the Holy Spirit speaks to me in symbolism. I asked why once and the response was something like, "I speak to everyone differently, but you like parables." God speaks our language. Amen!

The Puppy Parable

I came outside to have my devotional this morning. Caramela, the sweetest boxer puppy this side of the equator, was overjoyed to see me. She knows me and knows that I am the source of her joy. For many days now, she has been tied down - not by me, but by others due to her own shortcomings. This sweet puppy has yet to learn not to pee on the floor. As I came out to untie her so that she can spend time with me she became very excited and jumped and wagged her tail. Caramela's been lonely through the night, and spending time with me is what she needs. But she was still tied down, and that leash tangled her with many problems. One of those was a glass jar left out to be recycled. As she pranced the jar crashed to the floor; I had to sternly tell her to stay away so that she wouldn't harm herself on the shards. I settled down on the bench and invited her to join me. "Yes," I thought, "this is how it is supposed to be."

I was surprised when a few short minutes later, another dog passed by and Caramela joined the crowd to bark and chase after it. "What happened my dear? I thought this was our time." She came back and wandered all around me - to the left, right and even below my chair - but she didn't come back to me. Then, she found a piece of glass that I had missed. It was sticky and still sweet and she began to lick it. In my surprise that she didn't yet understand that this glass was harmful, I waited a moment before going to retrieve her. As I placed her back on my lap I was torn between hoping that she hadn't been hurt, and hoping that the glass had cut her so that the next time she would trust me and know that the sweetness was only a deceptive sheen. As we sat, I could feel how much faster her short heartbeat is than my slow rhythm. I have a soft spot for her, and I want her to be well.

The Porch Parable

Another day, I was in the midst of caring for grandmother, when two children rode by one bikes. Seeing a fruit tree heavy with cashew fruit just a few feet from my fence they slowed. In this country, my light skin marks me as foreign, and the people will assume that I do not know the language and culture before they will assume that I do. We looked at one another for some moments. Grandmother called, "I think they want some fruit honey." Indeed, they were not the first to stop and gape at our overripe tree while I was working in the garden. Shades of red show in the tree and the crimson pear shaped ones are the best. But the family doesn't much like this fruit tree that just happens to be in their garden - another two feet and it would have been out on the street for all - so the fruit falls uneaten to the ground where the gardener sweeps it up for the trash heap. People had come by the other day to ask if they could do the work of harvesting it. They would sell them in the street and, like the many other who sell bananas and coconuts, would have provided for their families. But our family was busy with its own affairs and I said it would be better for them to come back another time.

So I looked at the boys, and they looked at me; I knew that I could communicate, but felt rather shy seeing these needy strangers. I had many things to do yet that day, but their request was a small one so I honored it. Not really knowing which fruit would be best, I passed over many large, crimson but cracked fruits and finally settled on two small, pinkish but perfect fruits which I tossed over the fence to them. Only later would I learn that those cracked fruits which might make me sick would not harm the local people steeped in the local water from birth. The younger boy caught one, then the second and I was happy to see that this child knew enough to share with his brother. They took a bite and began to ride away. "God bless you!" I called out as they rode away.

God will have to, because I didn't.

Laura in on the Action!

My Haitian sisters!

Mary Lily and Me

These photos were pretty easy to upload since we just took them on the mac but I've got some great ones from my camera coming up soon!

Every dog pee pees the way he knows how (haitian proverb)

Well, I've made it to Haiti and as I've been told, the experience is nothing like I expected (haha).

I've heard so much about the joy and friendlieness of the people and the deforestation of the land. The first is true and obvious; the second is true and not so obvious. The country is so much more beautiful than the Dominican Republic; the mission base (school and pharmacy) we're working on is in the slums... on ocean front property. Today I watched a man in a traditional canoe keep bailing it out.

There's a part of me that is completely stir crazy. I've seen 1 (delightful, but still 1) patient. And yet, the Lord is good. My joy, of course, is in the people. Laura, 15, and Mary Lily, 5 are my buddies at the children's home we're staying at. Laura has a quick smile and we manage to communicate through a crazy mix of French (6 years later, some little bits are still in there), English, Spanish and Creole in that order. Mary Lily is so hungry for love; I've tried to keep that balance between showing her that she is loved and knowing that I will be leaving on Monday and that its wrong to make that too difficult for this tiny child.

Oh, and I've gotten my hair done in cornrows. Solidarity? Maybe, that's my intention at least, but it was also just fun (if painful) to have Laura do my hair. I was going to let it just fall out, since I look pretty goofy but Mary Lily redid it for me today. Ah well; there are pictures; Tia will be jealous I'm sure.

The best part of today was spending some time on the beach with the kids. Its literally right next door to this house as well. We had to climb through a construction area because they walled off the old stairs. In the US everyone would be all about the beach, but here's its mostly pebbles and trash. The kids can't swim and there are stinging sea urchans anyways so we didn't go too deep but we did mess around in the surf (not my original plan). I'm really holding to Tony's words, the missionary from here in Haiti, that the most important thing for a missionary is "flexibility." He told me about a missionary doctor that God took through 3 continents learning languages - and never doing medicine until he finally got back to the states. I pray that isn't in God's plan for me, though that flexibility is a lot harder than I would have expected.

I've also talked with Monolo a local pastor a bit while we were en route from Gran Guave back to Petite Guave (the Happy House). I was interested to hear that he didn't know anything about Zanma Lamnasti (Partners in Health), though my accent could be part of the problem.

The country and people are beautiful, but I couldn't be in Haiti long term. It isn't where my heart is called, though I do hope that God chooses a beautiful place like it for me to work. I'm glad Ed Lockett has been called here.

Finally I think the most beautiful thing is seeing the missionaries from the US, DR and Haiti all really working together; getting supplies, people, dreaming and laughing together. In this mission field it really is all one big family. I've been made part of it so quickly and without ever thinking to take that title on myself. I guess I have though, amen.

The family and house

Well the truth is that I don´t have much to report from yesterday ... I must have done something stupid because I was totally wiped out while I had some Montezuma´s revenge.  Yea Ciperoflaxin!  Today I´m back to normal.  I slept for most of the morning, I have never been so grateful to have my own room, then by evening I was feeling better.  Abuela (grandma) and I sat on the porch and I read to her from Patch Adams´s book about his institute.  The lights and water were out and I wasn´t really thinking ahead so when it got dark I bumbeled around for a while before I found the candles and matches.  Luckily for me Diane is all about decorating and the stove is gas, so I knew right where to look for the matches.  

         Abuela remindes me of Omi a lot.  She´s had a stroke and cannot use her left arm, and she´s just the sweetest little lady.  The only major difference is that she´s terrified of the dogs ... and the family has 3!  She´s OK as long as they aren´t too close, but I tell you what, its hard to help a scared little lady.  The other thing that really remindes of Omi is that apparently she was much harder to live with before her stroke.  Now we talk about God and I try to read her the bible every day.  Her favorite book is the Psalms, and I try to stick with the Psalms of praise.  She´s so grateful it almost makes me sad, there are a lot of family politics surrounding her care.  She probably only has a few years left so should she just be able to do and eat what she wants or does she need closely monitered care involving walks and healthy eating.  I´m of the second opinion.  We´ve went on a walk earlier this week and I think she really enjoys the time outside, because when she´s left to her own devices she just sits and watches whatever is going on around her.  I try to keep her updated on the family news, and I´m always amazed by how much medicine she knows.  Every time I talk about a new disease, like dermatitis, she knows  some little tidbit like that its an autoimmune disorder.  She´s really paying attention to the doctors around her.

The youngest son Lucas (Luke) wants to be a vet, so the house is full of animals.  They have 3 dogs (one is the sweetest little boxer puppy that likes to sit on my lap while I do office work), two guinee pigs, and two birds.  The kids are still learning to be responsible with them and that causes quite a few problems.  The puppy still isn´t potty trained but sleeps in the house and she can escape through the fense, and the boys (9 and 11) tend to give the dogs just one bowl of food to share which has led to 2 dog fights while I´ve been here.  Asi es la vida.

Lucas, 9, is full of energy.  He loves to play games like 500 with me and run around.  He´ll also tell you like it is.  I´ve tried to get him to tell me exactly what my errors are in Spanish, but so far all I´ve gotten is :you don´t know what you´re saying:.  Ah well, I´ve got my grammar manuel from Dr. Mata´s class and I knew I needed to pull it out.

Issac, 11, is the showman.  I would love to get him invovled in a theather group because he´s always preforming and quick with a taunt.  I´ve taught him a few card games, rummy, speed and 21 and he´s getting pretty popular at school for knowing new fun things from what I hear.

Annika, 16, is harder to read.  Well, I guess I´m really just saying she´s 16 and therefore not as interested in hanging out with me.  She smiles when I tease her, but mostly just does her own thing.  She´ve very social, always on the phone or whatnot.  And she has a cute little med student boyfriend, 18, who is just starting with the Chemistries and Biochem.  I´m not going to lie, part of me is ridiculously jealous that med students get to start at 18 here.  But then, the pay is low and the profession is dominated by women, so I´ll leave the US alone on that one.

I spend most of my time helping Diane with her errands.  She´s completely overwhelmed and I hope that by being here, I´ll give her enough time that she can relax and enjoy spending some time with her family.

Fran(cisco) hasn´t been around much since he´s been leading groups in Haiti, but I definately think Diane is rigth when she says that he has a pastor´s heart.  Its so obvious that he dotes on Diane and the kids.  I´ve got this amazing series of photos of him when we were looking at this piece of property yesterday.  He has his friend´s baby and he´s gone off to sit in the shade and he´s showing him a flower.  Then Issac goes over and sits at his Dad´s feet and both of them are playing with the baby.  The light and the plants around them are amazing.  Later, I was able to get a few similar ones with the baby´s family and I´m trying to upload those photos so I can email them the copies, but as you might guess the internet is fairly slow here so you have to be patient.

The other major developement in life here is that the Sabados are considering doing some major fundraising to buy a new guest house since the current one only sleeps 30 and they´re often over full.  Also they´d like the new property to give them a place to run the first hospice in the country.  Diane has been watching one particular compound outside of the city for a few years and it was just repossesed by the bank so its for sale for a fraction of its value.  We´ve already been to the property 3 times and the grounds are exquisite, a real feat of gardening, but when we finally got the realator and went inside yesterday it was pretty obvious that the house was too small for the vision we talked about.  There are possibilities like builiding another house on the tennis court which would definately be a lot bigger than either the guest house or their home, but I´m uneasy with it.  If God wants me to help them fundraise to buy that property as a place of rest for the dying it really could be a beautiful thing, but its too grand for my own long term dreams.  The boys and Diane are all for it, but Annika is worried that it will make it difficult for her friends to visit and that the support staff, who she is also good friends with, won´t be able to come to the new property.  Fran is also concerned that the property might be too much pomp for what they are wanting to do, but concedes that it does seem that there are many signs from God regarding it.  The property is already named Rancho Evangelica, (which I later learned means Evangela´s Ranch not Evangelistic Ranch which would be Rancho Evangelisitica), the property is being looked after by a Pastor and a grounds keeper named Santo (Saint) and one of the other pastors has had several prophetic dreams before and believes that she dreamed about the pool earlier this week.  But as she says, God has to confirm it. I will say, I was really impressed by how the Sabados are handeling the prospect of buying a new piece of property.  They called in 3 other pastors that they are involved with here in the DR to consider the property and pray for discernment.  I´m not sure if that would even have occured to me.  One in particular, pastor Ric, Fran called a man of prayer and it was clear that he is a leader in the community.  I hope that with much guidance and prayer, the right choice will be made.

Backlog the Beginning

Travel and Arrival

Of course first days in country are always long and its difficult to know what is important.  Still the song that continues to ring through my heart is simply “I’m here, I’m here, I’m here!” 

The day started early; 5:45 to put get up and get out.  Two hours on the road and we were in Orlando.  Palm trees are being planted all over and it is the most naturally beautiful airport I’ve ever seen.  You have to take an elevated glass train over a few ponds and some forest to get from the security checkpoint to the terminal.  I wonder how much longer that will exist; it seems like such a clear security hazard.  You can imagine anyone willing to brave the possibility of alligators bush-wacking his way onto the tarmack.  All the same, it was a relief after growing up next to Harts Field Jackson International.  That Atlanta airport is literally over a mile long to access the furthest terminals.

At gate 82 I met up with Paul Emery; he is in country to arrange shipping for the 8 shipping crates of relief supplies that have been donated to the church.  I was amazed to see how empty the plane was.  I had the entire row to myself and three other empty rows in front of me.  I briefly considered joining the rest of the passengers, but then awoke from my delusion.  It has only been 3 weeks since the first earthquake, but it looks like the first world is already loosing interest.  News, like all forms of entertainment, must be bite sized and fixed within the week.  Oh honey, that is soo over! 

With ample room and a nice cup of Dunkin Donuts coffee the two hour flight was soon over.  Diane graciously meet Paul and I at the airport.

In the car, they quickly delved into the heart of their work for the next several years if not decades: coordination of relief work to Haiti.  Its a type of thinking I recognize, when your heart is truly in service there are few people that you can truly brainstorm with, so when you find one of those people the talk is instantaneous and deeply gratifying.

 As you would expect some groups in Haiti are doing well IHOPs relief workers for example, but some are making questionable choices.  I’m not surprised.  I’ve been in the church and specifically involved in ministry with the poor long enough to know that there are often dissenting opinions among the workers.  People do this kind of work for their own reasons.  They take it home with them, they wake up in the middle of the night from nightmares about it, they may take home a paycheck but it is never what the world would say comperable services are worth.  So hearing the frustration in Paul’s voice and the affirmation from Diane did not rattle or even surprise me.  I’ve spoken similar frustrations as recently as last week in my own ministry.  But frustration must bring us to our knees.  We must pray that God will soften hearts to do the right thing.  When doctors are needed they should come.  But when unskilled laborers come to learn to build a wall around donated supplies the rob men of jobs.  Rather than

To me this feels like the Shane Claiborn quote “I used to ask God what He was planning for my life, but now I just look for what God is doing in the world and see what I can do to help.” 

God is moving here in the island of contrasts.

To me, the island today seems the island of colors.  The city is alive with ancient trees – half of them blooming, and most balconies seem to have flowerpots.  It’s a small thing, and in the best parts of town I’m certain, but so much more beautiful than the cities I’ve known in America where the tree are small and sickly – filled with mistletoe.  The powerlines look like hair in the drain; what could you do if just one went out?  And the traffic makes me very nervous.  I will be grateful if I never have to drive here.

Once we got to the correct district, we began asking for directions; the first few policemen knew the way, but we still couldn’t find it.  The next few said only “drive another block and ask the next policeman.”  It was finally a well dressed passerby who knew the way.  The main street we were on wasn’t marked but he knew the way and even offered to go with us to help us find it.  What a generous gift of his time.

Our first stop this evening was to visit a closed restaurant.  The owner, Victoria, is part of a political women’s group with Diane.  Diane had never spoken about her work as a doctor, but suddenly found herself the center of their last meeting as the group began looking into ways to support Haiti.  Woman after woman in this group of 180, mostly expats from here and there, steps forward.

“Could someone use tents?”

“We have tarps”

“Do you need medical supplies?”

The Lord provides.

Victoria’s restaurant had the grandeur of possibility.  Three stories of arches with the floor plan centered around a glass celinged patio brought to mind the ageing Southern mansions of my home.  The business had failed, and now halfway into remodeling it to be a home, the couple decided that the 1.5 million dollar (yes, dollar) home was no longer worth the investment.  There was a catch in the still glamorous New Yorker’s voice as she showed us around; the floors were covered in dust and the walls had patches of plaster here and there.  Her seven year old daughter slowly rode a purple tasseled tricycle around the emptied space.  The visit gave a box of pots and a family sized tent for Haiti.

Dinner was sushi and good conversation.  Half way through the waitress spilled the soy sauce on Diane’s kakhi pants.  I offered to run to the car and get her a pair to trade so she could wash them out before the stain set but she just shrugged and said, “its just not a big deal.  I can still use them, or maybe God wants me to buy new pants.” 

Later the power would shut down for a minute or two “thats normal, but hey, it won’t mess with the sushi!”

Fran, short for Francisco, and Issac would join us later.  Diane’s husband and son; the otherwise vegan family was thrilled to get out for something different.  As for me; I’m thrilled to be in a house that eats healthfully after my last year of less than perfect choices and living in Argentina – like texas, but with shorter cowboys – a few summers ago.  Issac is11, I think, and dug into his tuna tartar.

Next on the errand list was a stop in what must be a nicer barrio to pick up some donated tarps for Haiti and guniee pigs for the children.  Lucas, 9, want to be a vet.  In Peru, the guinee pigs would be a delicacy.  But here, he is free to name and love them. 

The houses are all fenced here, and the flowers are glorious.  Trinidad

Once we got to the correct district, we began asking for directions; the first few policemen knew the way, but we still couldn’t find it.  The next few said only “drive another block and ask the next policeman.”  It was finally a well dressed passerby who knew the way.  The main street we were on wasn’t marked but he knew the way and even offered to go with us to help us find it.  What a generous gift of his time.

Mercifully, relations between the two halves of this one whole island are the best they have ever been.  Imagine what it would be like if there was a massive natural disaster near the Mexican border of Texas.  Just as many Southern Americans see latinos as uneducated, dangerous people who take the worst jobs and speak a strange language, Dominicans tend to view Haitians. 

            Here we are dreaming new dreams and I know that by God’s grace and with His timing I have landed in the perfect place for me.  Some of my happiest times in college were dreaming with friends who loved Mercy Health Center.  Now, not even 12 hours in country, I stood with Paul and Diane and heard the thoughts of my heart spoken by others.  “The church in America is dying.  She is so focused on the Disney World consumerism and serving those idols that we have forgotten or ignored many of Christ’s teachings.  I am as guilty as any other.  Fear and pride are my foolish burdens.  Instead of serving the poor as we were called we pay the governement a pitance to do an incomplete job.  But what if we equipped leaders with mentoring, discipleship, language training and practical experience in missions?  What if we learned to be a people who could follow?  My brothers, I tell you Christ gave us the perfect example of following His father’s will and we can do no differently.  This experience will be my preperation for medical school.

            It is wonderful to see the adults as concerned with the pedestrian moments, with donated pots and tarps as my fellow college kids and graduates are.  The sad truth is that my last humanitarian, social justice, or whatever you want to call it ministry was composed of two groups of leaders: the kids doing the photocopying, phone answering and even cleaning while the adults did the administriatorial duties that to which I still do not aspire.  Neither group knew the other.    

            One of the most hopeful moments tonight was hearing from Paul that Passage Church, the black church partnering with Paul’s church, Grace, gives him hope for the innercity.  White Americans understand how to do missions abroad, but hit walls of frustration in our own inner city.  Black churches, he says, know how to minister to the inner city, but have similar problems abroad.  That makes perfect sense with the body of Christ that I know.  You are a hand; I am a foot, and God’s Kingdom depends on us all.  

?Como te 'ta'?

Saturday: Day 3

Missionary life feels like a strange mix of a crazy night in clinic at Mercy and a vacation. I get to wear tevas and shorts, no one wears makeup (praise God!), but there is so so so much to do! Anyone who has seen me be the crazy secretary at Mercy knows what I mean. You get so into the groove of things that you just don't stop. Diane, the missionary hosting me, feels it too. In the last two days I've hardly seen the woman stop. Believe it or not, this amazing doc got up at 3 AM just to make breakfast for a group of other missionaries. When I got up at 8 she had been up all morning working and aside from a few hours of nap in the afternoon she worked until 11 PM in the office here with me. I guess residency preps you to do that kind of stuff.

My quiet time with God means so much now; instead of being a discipline its like water at the end of a long run. I read the book of James last night. Its so short, but was so perfect for my mood. Normally I read slowly, but reading last night was just being wrapped into strong arms saying its OK. God is so real here. This afternoon the internet and copier inexplicablly went out for a few hours. Thats not surprising really, but the funny thing was that we didn't have to do anything to fix it. I kinda felt like it was God saying "take a break!" So I took a quick nap and then went out back to pick mangos for the kids at Abuela (grandma's| school. Well, school might not be the right word for it; in all honesty its really just an older lady who looks after the neighborhood kids for the day and really lights into anyone who dares to hit one of them. Sadly, abuse is really common in Latin America. The Sabados help support her; afterall, getting the kids off the street and loosely organized is better than them never having anything to do -- thats a real breeding ground for trouble.

The Sabados are really looking after that whole neighborhood as well. There's a girl who has atypical dermatitis - an immunological condition. He parents are doing well relatively speaking; they run a minimart out of their house for the neighborhood. Sitting in their backyard, it was easy to romantisize being a missionary doctor. Diane spent 30 minutes or so explaining the treatement - bathing with mineral oil and no soap, and dietary changes away from , and politics, and well, everything. I even had time to ask about some of the flowers - Trinidad y Viela de Novia (girlfriend's veil). Their yard was beautiful; it had grass and trees shading a place for the kids to play, chickens, a pot of stew that I hear tastes like pumpkin pie (maybe next time I'll know) and the whole family was spending their Saturday there. Seeing how much time families spend together and how much they really depend on each other makes me think that we're missing something in America.

This next piece is going to sound a bit formal; its from a thank you letter for financial donations that I've been getting ready to mail out today, but I want to record this story here and there's lots more to say... but writing is officially cutting into sleeping!

Our ministry here in the Dominican Republic continues to flourish. We have the opportunity to treat a gracious young man named Augustine. Three months ago, Augustine was a successful chaufeur until a gang attacked and robbed him of both his health and his livliehood. With both arms fractured and one infected with an antibiotic resistant strain of bacteria called MRSA, feared in both the US and abroad, Augustine has been forced to depend on his extended family’s charity to support his wife and two children. As I write, Augustine is in reconstructive surgery and we are hopeful that God will bless him with the return of 90% of his arm function and a cure for the infection.

The most poignant moment with Augustine was last night. After the team of docs put him in a quick drying cast (they really are cool) and discussed how to switch around certain ligaments to restore function (surgery is sounding good), Augustine went home to get his ready for the next day. I assumed that the team would pick him up. To beat the crowd to customs they were planning on leaving at 4 AM. The team was going out to Cotos food court - a french style Walmart - for dinner so I declined to go. Pizza just isn't necessary - total tangent here, but God totally took care of me when he put me with a family dedicated to eating well too - so I took the car back to the Sabado's house. We had made the trip like 5 times that day in the light, but in the dark everything looks different. I took a few wrong turns but I made it in the end. Well, its a good thing I just wanted to go change and read because 30 minutes later I hear "hey, hey" coming from the gate. Paul Emery - former missionary kid, my ticket over here, and the happiest man I've EVER seen in an airport just because he hates the US and loves serving - was upstairs so I let Augustine in the gate and got Paul; really just to be safe. After a few minutes we all agreed that it made the most sense for Augustine to stay at the guest house with the team - why should they have to go fetch him afterall and Diane had already OKed it, so I got to have about a hours worth of conversation with my peer while we got everything set up for him. How cool eh? It was really interesting to get to talk to a 22 year old and see his worldview. He was really excited to hear stories from the US - disneyland as Paul calls it - but I wanted to break down some of those great expectations so I just said that it had good points and bad points like every country but that I didn't really like how little value it placed on the family and how individualistic it was. I really took him off guard with that.

Time to sleep! Hold on to the Lord tightly!