Visitors

As a part of the summer teacher's institute, we have been sending small groups of the teaching staff from Christian Light School to go visit "the Ravine" where most of the students live.  I was surprised to learn that only a handful of the teachers had actually visited this area that the students and their families call home.  We discussed how being aware of where our students are coming from will better equip us to teach and care for them.  



Christian Light School was originally established with the goal of providing an opportunity for schooling to a group of children who would never be able to afford education otherwise.  Their families live in homes built out of tin and tarps which sprawl out from the slow-moving waters and garbage that fill the ravine below.  




I was able to go yesterday with a small group of teachers for a visit to the ravine.  We tagged along with the "baby-feeders" who are the kitchen staff responsible each day for preparing and delivering food and medicine to the children from the ravine who are too young for school (from birth to age 3).  Once the children in the ravine reach age 3, they are enrolled in the school and receive two meals each day.  




Yesterday's trip with the teachers was one of the sweetest and most heart-breaking parts of the summer.  As we were walking, one of the teachers recognized that this was the kind of neighborhood that they wouldn't have been allowed to visit as a child; it is the kind of place where poverty, brokenness, and violence run rampant.

As we walked along the ravine and stopped periodically along the way, we saw young moms carrying their little ones to the baby feeders to get their daily food: a scoop of a protein/baby formula mix, a hard-boiled egg, a slice of mango, and a small piece of bread with peanut butter on it.  The infants were brought to get vitamin drops while the toddlers happily held out plates or bowls or whatever containers they could find to collect their food.  

The teachers responded differently to the experience.  Some were very engaged, talking with the children and families as they went, while others were very quiet and reflective.  


I'm so blessed to know these teachers and to have had this time to hear their hearts for their children.  Their task is not an easy one, but their drive and purpose is great... They recognize now more than ever what challenges their students are facing.  These teachers are determined to provide their students with a Christ-centered education that will bring hope not only to the children, but to their whole families...  Hope for a brighter future with possibilities that only education can bring, as well as hope for an eternity with Christ that only the faithful teaching of the gospel can bring to those who have never heard and never believed.  What an exciting thing to witness the passion and commitment these Christian educators have for the task at hand!  How great will their impact be on the lives of these children and their futures, as well as the eternal impact their work is having on the Kingdom!

I'm thankful that you are able to join along with me on this visit to the Ravine.  I'm thankful also to know that you'll be faithful to join with me in praying for these teachers to be given strength and wisdom and grace and an abundance of love for their students in the coming school year.

 Many thanks for following along with me!

With much love in Christ, Jessie

Holes

It is ten years today that my Dad died.  I think about him a lot when I'm in Haiti.  I see a wobbly structure and I think about how his skilled hands, the hands of a carpenter, would have knowledgeably straightened it.  I think about him when I see boys growing up just like he did, without a dad to love and care for them.  I think about him when I look into the eyes of a Haitian who has struggled with sin and addiction and fights now to hold onto the grace of Christ.  I think about him when I meet some of the older Americans who come to serve in Haiti, to build and fix and mend; sometimes they're a little rough around the edges, but they are always full of a desire to pour out the love of Christ on others in practical ways, just like my Dad.  I think about him when I am asked to do something that he taught me, like drive a manual truck full of people through the streets of Haiti, or troubleshoot plumbing problems when there is no running water, or find a way to trust God in situations that seem hard and uncomfortable and far beyond my own abilities.  It has been ten years since my Dad died and I'm thinking about him a lot.

Yesterday we went to the ocean.  It was meant to be a sweet time of fellowship for the ladies who have been here this summer.  It was also a time to look out over the ocean and remember.  Remember loss and pain, my own and that of so many others here in Haiti and at home.  Loss of parents, friends, children... Loss of dreams, homes, jobs, health, hope... But more than that, it was a time to remember the God who takes all of those things and redeems them. 

Last Sunday, the pastor here spoke about being complete in Christ. He described the love of God as being like the ocean.  It is great and vast and consuming.  He went on to talk about the pain and sorrows we feel like holes dug deep into the shores of our lives. The ocean doesn't erase these holes in the sand, but rather, it fills them up.  And so as I think about ten years without my Dad, I'm thinking about the God who has filled that hole up.  It's still there, the hurt and loss and sorrow, but it has made room for a deeper knowledge of God's love and care.  Even as I know that there may well come more loss and pain and holes in this life, I look forward to seeing how God's love will continue to transform and redeem and fill these holes up.  

With much love in Christ, Jessie

Sounds

Last night while visiting with the boys, I was struck by all the sounds. Honestly, I haven't experienced many quiet moments since coming to Haiti.  Especially when I'm home with the boys, things are always loud.  Dogs are barking, roosters crowing, little boys are making all kinds of noises, and then there are the near and far sounds of the city which seems to be always awake.  I was joking that we should take a synthesizer and record all of the sounds of this place and make it into music.  This arrangement would have to include some pretty strange noises and would likely not draw a great following, with the exception of all the friends of this place who feel homesick for their Haiti home when they are away.  These are the sounds that you miss when you leave this place...

The smacking of lips as the kernels pop on the stove top followed by lots of crunching and giggling during Friday night movie nights with the boys.

The early morning hours filled with crowing roosters and the soft squeak of swings full of sleepy-eyed little boys.

Guard dogs (and puppies) barking as feisty little boys tease and play with them.

Splashing water during bath time and laundry time.

The crashing metal spoons on metal bowls during meal time.

Whispered schemes during creative planning sessions when the boys have found a new form of entertainment.  Followed by shouts of delight or disappointment when their plans succeed, or fail.

The constant whisper of the not-too-distant ocean breezes through the bright blue skies bringing a bit of relief from the tropical heat.

Each summer when I leave Haiti, my heart breaks a little at the loss.  For now, I'm praying for ears to listen more closely and savor each sound... to store these sounds in my mind and play them over and over again as the soundtrack to a very different life from my own, but a life where God's truth is still heard by those who will listen.

Many thanks for the words you have spoken into my life and the ways you are supporting and following along on this summer's adventures in Haiti! 

With much love in Christ, Jessie