A day at the cabin

Last Tuesday, our pastor and his wife invited us to their cabin for the day.  They visit there every Tuesday as a way of relaxing and getting away.  The moment it was brought up, I already started getting nervous.  Josh was of course his cool, collected self, but I on the other hand was just plain nervous.  Okay, i can carry on a conversation fairly well, but imagine an entire day of trying to put thoughts from an English brain into Spanish.  My brain gets tired.  Plus, it was our PASTOR.  We have loved getting to know the people in our church and are feeling more and more like we have a church home here also, not just back in the States.  So, needless to say, I wanted it to go well.  My prayer was for the Lord's peace and that He would give me words to say even when my brain was tired.  The day ended up being just wonderful.  We drove up there on a very precarious road which kinda reminded me of the roads in Haiti.  We drove up on this rustic, little cabin that they built themselves surrounded by dozens of fruit trees...lemon trees, mandarin orange trees, cas trees.  It was a very neat atmosphere.  We ended up just sitting most of the day and talking about everything we could think of.  We talked about the church in Costa Rica, about our desire to really take root in the church, about parenting and about life in general.  It was such a neat thing.  Pastor Javier is not only a pastor but also a psychologist (he volunteers at the orphanage where I also help out), so it was interesting to hear his perspective on things.  By the end of the day, somehow Josh was asked to consider being a part of the leadership of our church and to to give a presentation/devotional at the next meeting.  This is both exciting, and I'm sure a little scary for him.  So, you can be praying for him in the coming weeks.

There has also been a ton going on in our ministry.  Josh is currently at the Association of Christian Design Professionals volunteer conference.  He is teaching 4 courses on disaster response.  He spent alot of time in preparation for this conference, and I am praying that the Lord will bless his work.  I am also excited because some of our family and friends gets to meet some of our "family" from here in Costa Rica at the end of the conference.  Josh and the 3 guys from here in Costa Rica are meeting up with some of our family and friends for dinner before they fly out.  I'm so excited for the two worlds to intermingle.  Josh will be home for 4 days, and then leaves on a project trip here in Costa Rica.  They will be designing cabins and doing some master planning for a seminary/pastoral retreat center that prepares and equips pastors that will be working in Latin America.  Please keep him in your prayers.

On a side note, please pray for me as I have been sick for the last few days.  On Monday, I spent the day at the orphanage loving on the kids.  It's an absolute joy for me, but the con side is that I pick up whatever they have.  This time, I guess it's a stomach virus.  I think I'm on the mend, but your prayers would be appreciated.

Celebrating the Steps

Allison spends time volunteering each week at an orphanage in town.  We have both gotten to know several of the families that work and live at the orphanage, and it has been an amazing blessing.  One of the families attends our church, and is the tica family we are probably closest to here.  The daughter of this family is named Wendy.  She is 17, and she wants to be an architect.  She has been spending time in the EMI office, learning from the architects there.  In order to get into the university here, a person has to pass up to 3 exams.  She has taken two of them, with the last one coming up the end of this month.  In honor of finishing two of the exams, we had a girls get-together at our house.  It was so fun.  We sat around talking....in Spanish of course, enjoying brownies and making tostadas.  I think sometimes I get carried away with pressing on towards the next accomplishment and finish line, but this past weekend was a great reminder to celebrate the steps, the process.  It was great to laugh alot and share Christian fellowship.  Please continue to pray for us as we deepen relationships with the tico community here in Atenas.

day one & day two

day one:

Boarding the plane in San Jose, Costa Rica for what would only be the second time I’ve flown out of Costa Rica destined for somewhere other the US, I was caught off-guard by an altogether unexpected sensation:  anxiety.  Of all the feelings, emotions or thoughts that I’d expected to encounter, anxiety was one I’d written off.  After all, I’ve been to Guatemala, lived there, and it had once felt like home.  I suddenly realized, about 30,000 feet above the ground, that the anxiety wasn’t about Guatemala at all.  It was something else, something human.  I realized that the fear of the unexpected had crept upon me.  I feared that the team members, who were descending upon Guatemala City in their own respective airplanes like vultures on a hot desert highway, would be difficult to deal with, coming from another world; perhaps the Northwest, or the Northeast.  I was afraid that somehow, this unknown group of people would somehow tint or change altogether the lens through which I’d always viewed my precious Guatemala.  And, honestly, deep down I feared that somehow Guatemala had changed herself. 

But, the Lord is good. He is faithful.  He has certainly pulled together a team of brilliant engineering and architecture minds from various parts of the US: Nashville, Oregon, Minnesota, Atlanta, and Washington State.  Through this team, I can already sense that the Lord has great plans for this hospital here in Chichicastenango. 

We spent the night at a hotel in Guatemala City.  We all had dinner together and we were able to share in one of the team member’s burden for his family.  God certainly ordained that dinner and the subsequent conversations to begin welding together our separate paths and bring our hearts closer together.  I wouldn’t have said it a year ago, but the arts of engineering and architecture take on a distinctively different light when viewed as an act of love and service.  There is fellowship and brotherhood in sharing the gifts the Lord has blessed us with, though they be technical. 

I went to bed that night giddy, noticing that my anxiety had melted away into the cool, reassuring breeze of promise, hope, and expectation.

day two: 

I awoke this morning well rested and went down to breakfast.  There was certainly a more expectant attitude among the team this morning as the exhaustion of travel had been slept away and the new morning was established with Guatemala City as the backdrop.  Waking up in the destination country has a way of resetting the baseline, of washing away the grit and grime of travel and setting the purpose for your arrival on level ground.  We talked at breakfast about plans and schedules and the exciting reason we’d all arrived:  to serve with our gifts.  Who knew that specifics could be so refreshing.  After months of planning and preparation, we’d finally reached the tipping point, the point where the rubber met the road. 

We all piled into the van and made out for Chichicastenango.  Expecting a 3 to 4 hour ride, we settled in for a journey into the “wilderness” of Guatemalan hillside.  We made a few stops along the way to tour an existing hospital, drop off some materials to a missionary we’d served on a previous trip, expose the volunteers to a real Guatemalan construction project, and to use the restroom.  We encountered “derrumbes” or landslides along the way; some of them containing pine trees as thick as 55-gallon barrels.  In some places, the hillside roads had been washed away from underneath.  We made it safely to Chichi in the late afternoon. 

After getting settled in, we had a quick tour of the hospital we’d come to serve and were whisked away to church.  Church was like a twisted match of dueling banjos with Spanish and Quiche (a local dialect of the old Mayan language) pitted against each other. 

We retired to our rooms after dinner and the feeling was somewhat like the hush that comes over the crowd at the first home game of the regular season after the first play for a gain of 2 yards is over.  After the hysteria and excitement of a new season is gone, there is a comfort that comes flooding in; a comfort that the first play of the game wasn’t a fumble return for a touchdown.   There was an overwhelming peace that we could take a deep breath and get settled in for the full 60 minutes; we could settle in and begin chipping away at the design one day at a time for the next 8 days.  

AN UPDATE FROM SCOTT POWELL
(currently in Pakistan)

Yes, we made it out to Malik Ibrahim today....

They have two operating hand-pump wells, but no protective concrete aprons, so they’re probably contaminated with floodwater. We saw that they’re currently digging a new borehole well by hand (using a tripod, twine, some serpentine belts, and a metal bailer). Very cool to see them do that with improvised tools. They’re also building their own shelters with thatch and scavenged sticks. The shelters are pretty crude, but it shows they have initiative. No one else is helping them, so they’re pulling themselves up by their bootstraps.

We had a meeting with the community leaders to hear their needs. Clean water was tops, as well as shelter. We distributed 14 of the Sawyer filters (two per 10-L bucket, see image attached). Lots of other needs, too, so we made a list. More photos here: http://ping.fm/1gQ8R

Looks like FH and ILAP’s shelter, shelter kits, hygiene kits, and kitchen NFIs are all procured and en route sometime next week. ILAP is working on leasing a warehouse in RYK now. They’re hiring people left and right: interpreters, field officers, program managers, cooks, finance folks, you name it.

Tomorrow, ILAP is going on a tour of the affected area with some CRWRC, ERDO, and Mission Aid (Danish) visitors. If we can get a vehicle, the EMI team will be procuring supplies for a demonstration shelter to construct near the new warehouse over Eid. ILAP hopes to settle on that tomorrow, too.

Hope you guys are well!

For His Glory,

-Scott

Mudslides & Landslides in Guatemala

As most of you know, I'll be leaving Saturday for Guatemala.  Recently, there've been stories in the news about landslides and mudslides all over Guatemala, some of them fatal.  Our ministry contacts on the ground in Guatemala have all confirmed that these landslides are widespread and that the ones in the news are only a fraction.  Many smaller land and mudslides have affected roads and bridges throughout central Guatemala.  Chichicastenango, our ministry site, is located about 87 miles northwest of Guatemala City.  In order to get there from the airport in Guatemala City, we'll be travelling by road through mountainous terrain.  Please pray with us that the roads to and from Chichi are clear and passable.  If not, we have developed some alternative modes of transportation.  Please pray also for the people of Guatemala that are dealing with the landslides and are grieving from lost loved ones.

Boys Will Be Boys

One things that I love about the culture here, but that has also been a bit of an adjustment is that latin american culture is very open and social.  Sometimes, in Costa Rica especially, this can be limited to family where your whole family lives close and you end up staying in those circles.  We've been so blessed with Costa Rican friends that have opened their hearts to us and loving us despite our "gringo-ness" and encouraging us in our attempts to adapt into the latin american culture.  Part of Josh's ministry here in Costa Rice is working as a volunteer coach for an American football team.  He not only has a huge passion for football in general, but finds that it is a great way of connecting with guys that are seeking leadership and a purpose in their lives.  Well, yesterday at about 5 p.m., one of the guys that plays football rides up to our house on a bicycle.  From this point on, whatever else we had on our plates that night went out the window, and it was so great.  It was so amazing to see that our home feels open to our Costa Rican friends and neighbors to stop by for a visit.  We invited him to stay for a dinner of breakfast burritos, which I'm sure was a totally "gringo" dinner for him.  We talked and laughed over dinner.  And, although we don't usually get any football games on our television, they happened to be showing the Boise State vs. Virginia Tech game.  You would've thought both of them had just won the lottery.  For hours, the boys just sat there, giving their own personal comments, advise to players and shouts of joy and disappointment.  All in Spanish!  Not only was I super impressed with Josh's Spanish and his ability to pick up slang/colloquial terms and sound really very "tico", but also that no matter what language you speak, when it comes to sports (whether american football or futball a.k.a. soccer here in latin america) boys will be boys.

El Buen Samaritano Hospital, Chichicastenango, Guatemala

(Chichicastenango, Guatemala)

In Josh's preparation to leave on September 11th for Chichicastenango, Guatemala, we'd like to ask that you pray for the project team and their travels to and from the ministry site in Chichi.  Also, pray that the team would be affective in their ministry their to the people opening the hospital and that the Lord would bless the works of their hands and the words they speak.  This hospital will serve the local indigenous indians of Mayan ancestry which typically are too poor to afford medical care and often resort to witch doctors and spiritual cults for hope of healing.  Please pray that this ministry's hospital will serve to bring Christ's healing hands to these people and that it would provide an opportunity to share with them the healing news of Jehovah Rophe, my healer.  

What a week it has been

What's that saying? "TGIF"-thank goodness it's Friday.  Well, in Spanish, it's "GDEV"-Gracias a Dios es Viernes!  I actually love Fridays, but not just because it's the weekend.  In Atenas, Friday morning is the weekly fresh market.  Farmers from the surrounding areas bring their fruits, vegetables, plants/flowers, breads, etc to sell in town.  So, I head to downtown Atenas out in front of Escuela Central (central school) and do my produce shopping for the week.  I love the sights and sounds there.  This morning, there was lively music playing, and everything was bustling because this Sunday is Costa Rican Mother's Day or El Dia de la Madre.  Here, this is one of the biggest holidays of the year.  The mother in Costa Rican families is highly respected and has pretty much all the responsibility for the household.  It was funny to see something a little familiar also.  Normally, a bunch of flowers at the market is about 2,000 colones, or $3.50, but we have a pretty smart florist I guess because this morning, they were almost double that.  There people clamoring around the flowers trying to pick just the perfect flowers to arrange as a gift for their mother or grandmother's special day.  Kinda reminded me of Valentine's Day in the states when all of a sudden a dozen roses is outrageously expensive.  Of course, outrageously expensive in this case is only $7, but still:)

This week, there has been alot going on.  One of the staff wives, Beth, gave birth yesterday to a healthy baby boy, her first.  It was the first time I have seen a baby on the day of it's birth, and boy was it tiny.  I've seen infants, but I can't ever remember seeing a baby literally the day it was born.  He was so cute!.  And I am so excited for Beth and Micah as they begin this new season of their lives as parents.  I'm also excited because part of what I do here in Costa Rica is member care and family development which means I am super excited to be able to serve our friends however I can, including planning meals, laundry, cleaning, and pretty much anything else they need.  It was a little funny when I discussed my ideas with Beth a few weeks ago.  I guess they don't do a whole lot of the bringing-meals-to-the-house thing in northern Washington, where they're from.  I told her, "Listen, I'm from the south.  This is what we do."  We both laughed about it.

Also, another family returned from a visit with their family in the States.  Still in another family, the wife, Michelle, had her birthday yesterday.   They live at the orphanage where I volunteer, and we are going there tonight to help celebrate her birthday.  So, overall, it's been a pretty eventful week, and we're loving it!

What's happenin'?!

Since diving back into life and the work God has called us to here in Atenas, Costa Rica, things have been a little crazy! From exploding water heaters to leaky roofs to every outlet in our house going out, there hasn't been a dull moment. But, there's been a lot of positive things going on as well.

Josh has been busy working with Youth With A Mission (YWAM) in Gonaïves, Haiti to figure the costs of building their project which EMI designed back in 2009. YWAM is an international movement of Christians from many denominations dedicated to serving Jesus throughout the world, whose calling is to know God and make Him known. Since its establishment in 1960, YWAM’s main focus has been to get youth into short-term mission work and to give them opportunities to reach out in Jesus’ name. YWAM Gonaïves is the most recent branch of YWAM’s ministry to the youth of Haïti. Under the leadership of Director Maula Jean-Marie the ministry serves the large impoverished youth population in Gonaïves. Forty percent of Gonaïves'population is eighteen years old or younger. Combined with the extreme poverty, two devastating floods in the past five years, and the earthquake in January, 2010, there is a sense of hopelessness in the city that needs the light of the Gospel. The vision God has given Maula for YWAM Gonaïves is to “Restore the city, heal the nation, and touch the world.” Currently, to fulfill this vision, Maula and his family have opened their home to hold weekly church services and youth meetings. Also, the ministry holds public rallies that include the YWAM Gonaïves’ King’s Kids ministry presenting the Gospel through dramas and musical productions, as well as Maula and other speakers preaching the Gospel of Jesus Christ. As a further means to advance the Gospel of Christ to the youth of Gonaïves, Director Maula purchased an 11-acre property northwest of Gonaïves near the town of Marose. Maula’s vision is to use the property as a YWAM Campus that includes a Bible college, church, missionary apartments, YWAM office, school, shop, and student dormitory. The focus of this EMI project was to propose a master plan for the site and present the ministry with construction documents for the first phase of the student dormitory.

Looking ahead to the next 5 months, we've been preparing for a conference in October and 2 potential project trips! EMI's Association of Christian Design Professionals (ACDP) Conference will be held in Asheville, NC this October. During the conference, furthering education classes are offered and Josh will be teaching 3 classes! They will cover (1) Staying Healthy Emotionally, Mentally, & Spiritually in a Disaster Response Scenario, (2) Incident Command System, and (3) Transitional Shelter Design for Disaster Response.

The first project trip will take place in September. Josh will be part of a team of engineers and architects going to help the Good Samaritan Hospital in Chichicastenango, Guatemala. Good Samaritan Hospital was started around 50 years ago when a Methodist church began offering medical services from what had been a rent-by-the-hour hotel. There was no other hospital available to serve the people in this area. Mostly native peoples, even today most are unable to pay for medical services. In addition to providing medical care, Good Samaritan Hospital's purpose is to reach people with the Gospel of Jesus Christ. All patients and their families are visited by local pastors while they are at the hospital. This project will review the existing hospital facility and create a strategic plan for their continued growth. Phase one of their expansion will be construction of an infill building to accommodate an eye clinic.

The second project trip will take place in November. Josh will be co-leading a team of volunteer engineers and architects from the U.S. to Orosi, Costa Rica to serve El Jardin Sagrado, a ministry of Global Outreach Mission. Meaning "The Sacred Garden", El Jardin Sagrado is a camp and retreat center begun with great vision for the future. For years Global Outreach hoped and prayed that they could establish a multi-purpose orientation center close to North America, easily accessibile to those who God would raise up to serve the work in ministry. These prayers were answered in 2006 through the purchase of property in the Orosi Valley of Costa Rica. This camp and retreat center on five acres will be a place from which churches can be planted, local pastors can be trained and encouraged and candidates from around the world can receive cross-cultural orientation in a developing country. The team will help design the remaining elements of this camp which was partially design by an EMI team in 2007.

God has certainly filled our plates with plenty of work to do! Please pray for us as we continue to follow after Him. Also, please pray about how you can be involved in our efforts here, either through volunteering with us or by supporting our work here financially. We cannot do this without your help and your prayerful support! We miss you all and wish that you could be here serving with us!

Pics from the Week

Well, we've made it safely back to Costa Rica! One of our bags did not make it here with us, but, praise the Lord, it arrived yesterday with all of its contents. We have been settling back into life here well. Josh started in the office again the day after we got back. I've been getting everything together at the house and getting everything in order. It's been a crazy few days, though. The first day we were back, it rained really hard in the afternoon. Suddenly streams of water started flowing down our living room wall. I had known that it could be a problem with the heavy rains here in Costa Rica, but thankfully it waited until we arrived to start flowing again. That night, we realized our toilet wasn't working properly. There was just no water coming into the tank. Sadly, I forgot at least two times and had to run back and forth between the kitchen sink and the toilet with our pitcher trying to fill up the tank. Then, this morning, Josh and I are in the bedroom getting ready when we suddenly hear this super loud hissing sound. I had no clue what was going on, just that it was loud. I wasn't sure if our fridge was about to explode or what. We look around into the kitchen, afraid to see exactly what was going on. Josh, of course, trying to be ever the protector, peeked around the corner first. He says that he thought that the propane tank we use to cook with was blowing up. All I saw was our kitchen filling up with TONS of steam. We realized that there was steam and water spurting out everywhere from the pila room. The pila room is a room off the kitchen that holds a big sink called a pila, very typical in latin american houses. We also have our washing machine in there. It was so crazy because, at first, we couldn't figure out where the water was coming from, just that it was spraying out everywhere in the pila room and a small flood was making its way into the kitchen. Finally, we realized that it was spraying out from where our mini water heater connects to the wall. After unsuccessfully trying to hold the connection to the wall, Josh found where to turn off all the water to the house. As he was working at the top of the driveway to turn off the water and water continued to gush out the broken pipe, I stood there sweeping all the water out the pila room door into the backyard. Needless to say, it was an interesting experience. We finally got it turned off, and Josh called Jose Luis, our go-to plumber, to fix it. The Ayers do alot of things, but plumbing isn't one of them. He just spent the afternoon fixing our hot water heater, the wiring to it, and the toilet. As I started blogging, Josh was sitting out on the porch with Jose Luis chatting. It's so amazing to see opportunities the Lord is giving us to meet people and make and impact for His kingdom, even if it's through broken water heaters and leaking toilets. Oh, when he was fixing the hot water heater, he found empty gecko eggs. So, yes, our geckos are multiplying:) The last picture is Josh holding the tiny egg.

Gecko egg
Jose Luis hanging out our pila room door fixing the leak
Jose Luis under our pila trying to fix the water heater

The Latest From Haiti

It's been a while since our last post. Since then, we've been extremely busy. In the past month, we've been able to construction about 200 shelters and have worked out the kinks in the system to eventually build a total of about 1000 shelters by the end of July. With the season's first tropical storms now churning in the Caribbean, this is surely good news for those Haitians still living in tents and bedsheet shelters. Also, Alli has been coordinating a team of Korean doctors and dentists now for about a month and they've finally arrived! They have been seeing hundreds of Haitians in need of basic medical care and dental work in the mountain villages south of Port au Prince. Tonight is there last night and Allison is up there now with the team as I right this post. We'll be finishing up our time here in Haiti and leaving on June 30th for some much needed R & R. I've posted some videos below. Enjoy!

The Clinic

Part of what I (Allison) is doing in Haiti is volunteering in an outdoor physical therapy clinic that is affiliated with a local hospital. A P.T. named Donna came down to Haiti in April and saw a need to start an outpatient physical therapy clinic for post-earthquake injured patients. Physical therapy pretty much does not exist in Haiti. There are no accredited training programs. So, people don't have follow up care after injuries or surgeries. It has been sad to see problems that patients have just from lack of education about how the body works. For example, somewhere, somehow, a lady I'm seeing was told that after her femur (thigh bone) was competely broken in the earthquake and she had some pins put in, she should keep her foot turned out to the side. Because she had no reason not to trust this information, for the past 4 months she has kept her foot turned out to the side 90 degrees, and now is so tight in that position that she cannot turn her foot back in to walk normally. It's just very sad. Volunteer physical therapists from the states rotate in every 2 weeks or so. It has been a very interesting experience. We have seen alot of patients with crush injuries, amputations and anything else you can think of..including a guy who came in today with deep cuts in his arm from being in a knife fight earlier this morning. Thank goodness we had a doctor present who was able to get him fixed up. It has been really amazing to use the skills the Lord has given me to serve Him. I always knew when I was in P.T. school that I probably would not lead the normal P.T. life, working in a clinic for the rest of my life. It has been so amazing to see the journey the Lord has taken me on in regards to my skills as a physical therapist and how He is allowing me to use my gifts to life out scripture by serving the poor, orphaned, widowed and suffering. I wanted to post some pictures of the clinic and some of our patients.

The view from the sidelines...

You've, doubtless, heard me say something in the past about how the sense of smell is the strongest sense tied to memory. That's never more true for those hot, humid Georgia summers. Alli and I were talking the other day about the differences in "hot" for Haiti and Georgia. One thing, we decided, was that Haiti lacked that sweet, green smell of freshly-cut grass at dusk. We all have memories of that smell: picnics, summer chores, summer jobs, road trips with the windows down. For me, that sweet odor plops me instantly on the baseball diamond, the 50-yard line, or the first cut of rough on the first hole at Oak Mountain.

On the practice fields at Central High School comes ever more memories: the smell of cut grass, yes, but the soggy wet field having just been watered, the grass clippings clinging to my sweaty arms and legs, the weight of the helmet in my hands, the wet blanket of shoulder pads, the ringing in my ears thanks to Brian Maxwell, the taste of water-hose water in the coolers at water break, expletives filling the air from Coach Bailey and Coach Kay, the deep grunts of linemen pushing forward, the cracks of helmets and shoulder pads, and shrill ring of whistles stopping and starting the endless drills. Suddenly, I remember, at least in ninth grade, most of my memories of playing are of me standing on the sidelines, watching and learning, studying the movements, the plays, joking with other freshmen, chewing on my mouthpiece anxious for a chance, wondering when or if my chance would come. And, I suppose if I were to be completely honest, all this was to mask the paralyzing fear in my heart of what would really happen as I imagined myself lining up across from "Max". You see, my freshman year was the first year I'd ever really played football.

I was big and that was about it. I had no experience to speak of and I can remember that I wore gel in my hair to school those days. The gel, I would quickly realize, burned my eyes like fire when mixed with sweat. I remember having to be taught what a three-point stance meant. As I learned the terminology, I learned to pair those terms with what I'd seen on television and to make my body do what I saw the men do on the screen. I remember how easy it had been to sit in front of that television and criticize these gigantic men of the sport when they would fumble the ball, drop a pass, miss a block, jump offsides, miss a 15-yard field goal, or forget to run out of bounds with 5 seconds left and down by 6. I remember throwing my pillow at the screen in disgust when Chris Chandler would throw one of his many interceptions. But, just the same, I remember standing on the practice fields that year and idolizing guys like Scotty Pless, Alonzo McPherson, Brandon Smith, Donny Lathery, and Brain Maxwell. I remember wishing and praying that I could, one day, be as strong as them, as fast as them, as popular as them. They wore their pads differently, they carried themselves differently. There was a certain air about them. They were like men who'd been in battle so long they no longer cared to wash off the blood. They no longer noticed flesh wounds. They never showed weakness, except for those final Friday nights when we would, inevitably, lose in the first round of the playoffs. Close on the tails of this admiration was my own youthful pride. I would go from admiring their strength and toughness, to bragging to other freshmen that I could hit harder, run faster, and jump higher than the seniors. We'd stand, in our starched white practice uniforms untouched by grass, dirt, and especially blood, and criticize and brag quietly, just out of earshot of those giants that were on the field.

I dare say, we all still do this today. We sit in front of our high-def flat screens and criticize coaches, yell at players, make character judgments based on a botched 4th and 1 play, and jab at players that show up to training camp overweight, all the while munching on pizza and downing "cold ones." You see, its easy to stand on the sidelines in our freshman years of life having never really touched that soggy, torn-up field of play or sit in our armchairs and criticize the men out their doing it from our air-conditioned living rooms. Our ignorance of what its like to be in the game allows us the audacity to think that we could do it better; that somehow we hold a secret that no one else has ever held before in the history of the game. But, as I quickly and abruptly learned that hot, humid Georgia afternoon, seeing and doing are two very different things. The grunts and sounds of clashing armor take on a very visceral tone when you find yourself "in the trenches". The "weak" tackles don't feel so weak anymore. The slightest collision makes your ears ring louder than the whistles. The game moves faster than you ever could have imagined. The shoulder pads that were so comfortably unhooked while you stood on the sidelines suddenly constricted your breathing as you toed the line of scrimmage. Standing on the sidelines ultimately affords us the privilege of pretending that we could do it better. Removed from the pain, the emotion of the fight, the fears and triumphs that come along with it all affords us the privilege of criticizing others when they come up short. It also, unfortunately, allows us to continue in our romantic views of the game, with their virtue, the popularity it could furnish, and the gain it offers.

Remembering that smell of freshly-cut grass took me to all these places I've just mentioned; all the while standing in the middle of the disaster of Haiti and mission field of Costa Rica. I've realized that I no longer hold dearly the notions of what I thought a missionary was or should be. Nothing fits quite as neatly into boxes like it used to. Seeing and experiencing the suffering and pain first hand has ruined my rosy images of serving the Lord. "Sharing the love of the Christ" no longer has its clean edges. Loving the widow and the orphan isn't so Bounty-fresh anymore. The sounds of grunts and cracks coming from the field aren't just a backdrop to celebrity anymore; they are very real cries for help. The Bible stories I wish I'd paid more attention to in Sunday School are no longer felt-board cutouts but, rather reels of film meant to teach me something about my opponent. Holding up four fingers at the beginning of the fourth quarter is no longer something cool to do (knowing all along that I had no chance of touching the field in such a tight game), but rather a rallying battle cry of perseverance. To put it simply, the novelty of "serving the Lord", in the face of the suffering we've seen, has lost its romance, its luster, and with it its preconceived notions of "what its supposed to be like."

But, just as I would realize towards the end of my freshman year, the real game, with its struggles, trials, pain, blood, and bruises, would forever hold my devotion. What keeps Brett Favre coming back for more punishment from defensive ends is not unlike the fight we find ourselves in now. The hope of glory.

"Now I rejoice in what was suffered for you, and I fill up in my flesh what is still lacking in regard to Christ’s afflictions, for the sake of his body, which is the church. I have become its servant by the commission God gave me to present to you the word of God in its fullness— the mystery that has been kept hidden for ages and generations, but is now disclosed to the saints. To them God has chosen to make known among the Gentiles the glorious riches of this mystery, which is Christ in you, the hope of glory. We proclaim him, admonishing and teaching everyone with all wisdom, so that we may present everyone perfect in Christ. To this end I labor, struggling with all his energy, which so powerfully works in me." (Colossians 1:24-29)

Seeing and feeling the reality that is serving the Lord will forever hold my heart. Serving Him has suddenly taken on a very grim reality, but a reality so beautiful and intriguing as to never really lose my attention. Pray for your teammates!

Load 'Em Up!

Community Meeting

A typical Haitian market (above).

We called a meeting with the local community leaders in the neighborhood where we plan to build these transitional shelters. The meeting was called to discuss the criteria that we were using to select the beneficiary families that would receive shelters. We wanted to make sure that everyone in the community was well aware of the reasons why some families were receiving shelters and others were not. Obviously, we cannot provide shelters for every needy family in Haiti. So, we must try and provide shelters to those families that are most vulnerable.

Pulling up to the destroyed hillside church where we planned to meet, I quickly understood another small part of the plight of these people. Things look quite different standing among them than they do viewed from the car. I was terrified to even stand near the battered and crushed church building. Columns were completely sheared off and the walls of the church had long since fallen. Chickens hunted and pecked the ground in search of anything edible. Old road signs lay on the ground claiming that "siLoE", the neighborhood in which we stood, lie somewhere in the sky, beyond the dark gray rain clouds ominously rolling overhead. Amongst a small group of women with their heads bowed praying, chairs of a dozen shades of rust, bent, some missing backs, others missing legs sat scattered about. Below us, in the valley to the west. lay Port au Prince, shrouded in dust, terrible, suffocating dust. That terrible dust seemed so thick as to block out the noise and commotion surely happening among the crowded streets and back-alley markets. One by one, community leaders and representatives began to file in, each wearing what was presumably the nicest clothes they could muster. In Haiti, what a man wears does as much to define him as his name. Most men entered and took a seat, heads held high, dress slacks covered in dirt and dust, dress shoes missing heels and holes over their toes, and white dress shirts soaked in the sweat it took to get them to the meeting.

I found my mind wandering as the meeting began. Sitting before them, surveying the sea of shiny, black faces, I quickly realized that I was the only foreigner there. A rush of self-awareness slowly made its way up my wet back to my neck and my ears began to burn. I scanned the room to get a feel for the overall attitude; one man smiled pridefully, another's eyes portrayed fear, and yet another's sweaty brow advertised anger and frustration. The heat under this church was stifling. Or was it the tension?

We began the meeting with introductions: our names, where we were from, what we were responsibly for, and one negative thing and one positive thing about ourselves. I was shocked at the relative realness with which Haitians seemed to conduct themselves and their business. After all, to introduce your faults and successes to a strange group of people only happens at cheesy corporate retreats or church camps in the States. So, I stood and introduced myself and why in the world this "blanc" had come to Haiti to help and shared with them that my biggest fault was that I tend to see the bad in people first. To break the ice a bit, I then explained that my most positive trait was that I had a wife that makes me see the best in people. That, thankfully, drew a few laughs from the group. The meeting trudged along as the shiny black faces turned to each other with excited looks, then disappointed looks, then confused looks again. Every major point that was discussed was relayed to me via translator and I slowly began to understood the reason for the looks being exchanged at each crossroads. Long stints of babbling in Creole were broken periodically by violent, forceful, monologues bellowed from the strained throats of impassioned community representatives describing the plight of their respective peoples and beseeching us to meet needs here and there. Finally, one quiet old lady stood with hands clasped, curtsied, and began to speak in a still, small voice. She began to thank us for what we were doing and apologize that the meeting was getting so far off track. Her petite, frail words were buried in an instant by thunderous naysayers trumpeting their causes. Shriveling under the heat of these bursts of anger, she dropped her head to sit again; pausing for a second as our eyes caught. With an understanding and appreciative smile, in an instant she and I connected.

Closing the meeting, we asked one of the pastors present to pray for our efforts. And, as if on cue, the rain began; a weary sigh growing into rapid taps of thunder on the plastic roof overhead. Under the blankets of water falling from the sky, the pastor's words faded away until all that could be heard was an occasional deep guttural Creole syllable. I've always known that the devil was alive and well in Haiti. The way the rain stopped abruptly at the end of this man's prayer only solidified my suspicions. There are forces here that do not want us to succeed. There are things that happen here that are beyond rain.

We stood around for a while afterwards as we all individually discussed the topics that were brought up during the meeting. As it turns out, in Haiti, this is when you really get to know what's on a person's mind, what's on their heart, and how they really feel about certain issues. They'll share things with you during these times they would not dare share within the group. In many ways, I was told, this is why the meeting exists; for these times afterwards when the real "business" gets handled. Over fruit punch and croissants, we came to understand just how complicated helping people in Haiti can be.

The roads through Siloe, by the time we pulled out of the muddy embankment where we docked the car, were raging torrents of rainwater, sludgy sewage, and a thousand plastic bags. The rainwater had risen in some places to the bottom of the doors of the car. In many places you could not see where the road ended and the storm sewers began. I learned something funny this day. Passing countless goats huddled under palm branches, old rusted-out cars, and overturned wheelbarrows, I realized: Goats don't like to get wet. My chuckles were cut short by what I noticed behind the goats. It seemed that every child in the streets was making the most of this opportunity; to take a shower. Under every gutter and every ledge where rain was rolling off, a child stood naked with a bar of soap, white suds rolling off their bare, black bottoms.

We rode back to the office, trudging through mud and water I could not believe. The rain, it seemed, was washing away the filth of Port au Prince. At least for today.

Video Update 5.23.2010

Click here for more photos of the current situation!

The Tent Cities of Haiti

The Tent Cities of Haiti

Gettin' Gas

Pictures from the Week

This little boy was sleeping on the walking path next to the tent in Hatte Perat. He was so incredibly cute, but was definitely baking in the sun so we woke him up and moved him to the shade.

These boys were flexing their muscles for me

We saw this man walking up the mountain

This little guy was having a rough hair day, but was so cute

This little girl's name is Jessica

Houses along the side of the road

Hatte Perat

All this week, I have had the pleasure of accompanying a team up into the mountains south of where we are staying in Petionville to gather information and take pictures of the children for child sponsorship packets. Number one, I have to tell you that the road is unlike anything I've ever experienced. It steep and rocky with big crevaces...bumpy doesn't even begin to describe it. We went Tuesday to an area a little ways up the mountain road, then Wednesday, we went further up to an area called Aux Cadet. Well, yesterday took the cake. We hear of a new community where there has been minimal work done, so we decide to visit to see if FH can help out. We go past Aux Cadet by another hour. As we go, the road turns into a two-person walking path. Yes, we are trying to get a 4-runner down a two-person walking path with bushes and cacti on either side. Multiple times, the passengers had to get out and walk in front of the car, moving rocks to the side to allow it to pass through. The whole way there, the pastor of the church there, who we had picked up on the road when we first entered the Aux Cadet area, is telling us about his community, called Hatte Perat. They are a community of about 3000 people. There is one school and one church, but the closest water source is a 2-hour walk. The closest clinic is about 2 hours driving. I cannot imagine how long it would take to walk it, especially if you are sick. There is no good road to get in/out of the community, so it is very difficult for the members to get their produce to market to sell. The ones that do, walk all the way down the mountain to Petionville (where we live-a 2.5 hour drive) to sell their produce once a week. This place was seriously out in the boonies. But I wish you could've experienced the heart this pastor had for his community. He was young, maybe early 30s, and he had such a great vision for what his community could be and things that FH could do to help the community grow and prosper. We arrive there and there are more than 200 people standing inside this tent so intently looking at us and excited that we're there, but wondering what we are doing there also. The pastor had told them we were coming to take their picture, so we had the awesome opportunity to tell them what FH will be doing to help their community. You could just see everyone's eyes light up. They could help them get a better road? maybe a well? It was such a neat thing to experience. We took a ton of pictures of the kids, and the FH staff that speaks Creole talked with each child, and found out all about them, what their life is like and what they want to be when they grow up. I'm not even sure they know what they SHOULD want to be. They're so removed from the city that I'm not even sure they know what's out there past the farm labor that their parents do. Hopefully FH can bring hope to their community and help them grow. Then, on the way down the mountain, our brakes overheated and we slid about 10 yards down this rocky/gravely hill. Praise the Lord everyone was safe. We cooled them off with water, and sat for a while and they seemed to work again. I"m just glad we made it down the mountain safely! I will post some pictures I've taken in the past week so you can get an idea of what we've seen here.