Bondye Pi Gran

If someone would sit and listen for 100 consecutive hours, or more realistically probably 4 hours, I think I could talk the entire time about how awesome my trip to Haiti was and how much I miss it.  This morning, in particular, I miss the sweet sound of 360 Haitian children praising God each morning before camp started.  It’s the kind of missing that makes your heart hurt a little.  

I have a lot of Haiti stories that make your heart hurt, but in a good way that shows that it’s growing, and I am still trying to figure out how to actually share them.  It is rather difficult to process all of the great things that happened, though I’ve been home for a couple of weeks now.  

The first story I think I’ll share isn’t even about my third graders.  It happened on one of the final days of camp, when our student-translator, Kendy, took my co-leader and I on a tour of the town.  One of the final stops we made was at a state-funded nursing home.  If we are going to get real-- we are-- I probably would have been perfectly content just smiling, waving and saying a simple hello (bon swai) to the dozen or so elderly folks that lived there before heading out of the compound.  That wasn’t what Kendy had in mind for us...

First we walked up to a man sitting in a rocking chair, reading the Bible.  I asked Bible man, through Kendy, what God was teaching him that morning, and he read aloud the passage he had been reading from either Colossians or Galatians that could be summarized with “God is greater,” which happened to be the theme of the Bible camp we were teaching that week.  With that, I slipped him the rubber bracelet I was wearing that said “Bondye pi gran” (“God is greater” in Creole).  In all of the big book, what are the odds, right?

We left Bible man and started speaking with a thin blind lady who said she was very sick and needed food and/or money.  I gave her the granola bar that I had, and said “silver or gold I do not have, but I would love to share God’s word with you in prayer.”  She said that she was a believer, but she did not want prayer from me, she wanted food.

I offered her everything I had-- a granola bar and prayer, a glimpse of truth from our great God-- and I still have never felt so inadequate or humbled.

Enter Bible man.  “Don’t you know that what she is offering you is more valuable than food?”

She said that she didn’t believe that.  And if we are going to be honest, I have never had to really know that.  I have said it, but I’ve never had to live it.  Before I went to Haiti, I had honestly never really even thought about how some people had.

Bible man said that there was another woman who wanted our prayer, so we followed him to her and then prayed over her.  Then he got down on his knees and said he was ready for his prayer.  He wanted little, small inadequate me to pray affirmations over him.

Bible man looked completely surrendered, the kind of surrender I can talk about wanting all day long but still feel so far from often.  Everything about his posture said, “bring it on, I’m waiting, God.  Rain on me.”  I hope to remember that image in my heart always.  Right next to it is the way that the kids pray there… closed eyes, clasped hands hitting their cute noses, as though they were desperately pleading for something.

In his book. Blue Like Jazz, author Donald Miller says, “Sometimes you have to watch somebody love something before you can love it yourself.  It is as if they are showing you the way.”  I was very much in love with Jesus before I went to Haiti, but 10 days watching Haitians love the Lord helped show me how much bigger and better he is than I could have thought before.  

I don’t know how you pray, if you pray.  I don’t know what blanks you use to fill:

God is greater than _____________.

I do know that if you decide to leave your comfort zone and go on a service trip, God will give you new answers.  

You might learn that God is greater than the price of a plane ticket to Haiti and all of your vacation days and then some.

God is greater than an inadequate 25 year-old American girl.

God is greater than your small view of your small part of his big world.

God is greater than the language barriers created after the Fall.

God is even greater than food.  

Tomorrow as I try my first attempts at fasting for a family member’s medical procedure and get down on my knees to pray, I’ll think of Bible man as I wait for God to show up.  

Bondye pi gran.

God is greater.  

Go Tell It On A Mountain

I have been subtly dropping hints to my friends for several months that I just wanted to be on a mountain, any mountain, sometime this summer.  Along with all of the other things on my summer “to do” list, it didn’t seem like my mountain ambitions were going to come to fruition this year.

BUT THEN while I was having the adventure of a lifetime in Haiti though, I got what I asked for and then some.  Our group was told that we would be going on a 4 or 5 mile total hike to see the Citadel, the ruins of an old unfinished fort that marks the highest point in Haiti.  As soon as we were told about the excursion, my heart skipped a beat.  Standing at the base of the mountain that leads to the Citadel, it skipped two.  

At the mountain’s base lies the beautiful remains of a castle formerly inhabited by a King of Haiti.  From that vantage point, after I got over feeling like I was in the ruins of Cair Paravel (ala Prince Caspian), I looked up the mountain and knew that this hike would be more than the casual walk that was advertised.  Regardless, I just wanted to be on top of that mountain. whatever. it. took.

Would you believe it was like 7 miles to the top?  [Not to mention the 7 miles back, all in 100 degree heat].

Seven beautiful but treacherous miles of narrow, stoney, goat/donkey excrement laden mountain trails, the majority of which entailed hiking up incredible inclines.  It is experiences like this one that make me wish that memories were better and words were better so I could describe exactly how difficult it was, and exactly how much I wanted to be at the top.  Sometimes they just fail you though.

Speaking of failure, another important point to mention is that for the majority of the hike, I was followed by a Haitian man named Willie, and his donkey, Blue Jean.  Willie and Blue Jean, along with a whole caravan of other individuals who solicit their donkeys for rides up the mountain, followed us and told us that we had only traveled 1km (no matter how far we had actually traveled), that we looked tired, that we would never make it the long way to the top without their help.  In other words, we had hecklers.  

Every few minutes Willie would call over to me that he hadn’t forgotten me, and that he would be there when I needed him.  He was very nice about all of it, but very persistent.  Many times I considered whether or not I would have to actually take him up on it even though my pride made me want to make it on my own and I was terrified of the prospects of riding a horse up the steep hills that lacked guard rails.  

Just as I thought I was about to have to bow out, my sweet new friend, Allee, suggested that we have a group prayer.  We held hands and together we prayed for physical strength, something I don’t think I had ever asked God for before, probably because I had never tried to stretch myself physically before.  I had never wanted something this badly though.  Never.

Soon after we stopped to pray, our caravan of hecklers gave up on us and went down the mountain.  That’s when I knew I could do it.  And. I. Did. It.  We did it.

Inching our way up

On the home stretch

At the highest point in Haiti, feeling on top of the world.

This is all my heart wanted for months.  Beautiful.  

For months, all I wanted to do was be on a mountain, any mountain.  As with many of my other deep heart wants, Haiti gave me answers to “why.”  

From atop the mountain that holds the Citadel, I was able to see all of the tiny but seemingly vast country that is Haiti- a country I loved before I ever made it there- and pray for its future.   I was able to take in exactly how beautiful God painted that country to be.  I was able to overcome physical and environmental obstacles to satisfy something I knew I needed to do.  I was able to feel able.  

I couldn’t explain to you how achy my legs felt, how wheezy my breathing sounded, how sweaty I was, or exactly how heavy my backpack became.  You had to have been there.  You have to go.  

If you have a big dream, I would recommend taking it to a mountain and taking it to God.  From such a high place, you can see a speck of his beautiful vantage point, and it’s enough to make you long for Heaven- a place where you can see his vantage point perfectly.  It’s all I wanted for me, and it’s all I want for you, friends.  

It may take me a few weeks for me to be ready to talk about the rest of what Haiti taught me, specifically to be able to talk about the perfect, patient children who spent the week with me at summer camp.  As soon as I’m ready, you’ll be the first ones to know though. :)

Thanks for reading!

Jess