Thoughts

They crumble under piercing rays When rays do have their say These buildings formed from weaker stock That builders cut from clay Old rooms at home are dusted clean Beyond those empty floors And painted with a bright new hue On top of favored mores Peering into glimmered night They watch the buildings fall And wonder at their newfound space Though awkward, old, and tall These homes feel like another place Without their stiff decrees Secured with broken locks and bolts To still our trembling knees

One thing I'd like to understand is why there is such a difference between medical costs here and those in Haiti. At the time the book Mountains Beyond Mountains was written, in 2003, it often cost $15,000 to $20,000 annually to treat a patient with tuberculosis, while it cost one one-hundredth of that-- $150 to $200-- to treat a patient for the disease in Haiti. Even if the figures aren't completely accurate, the sheer difference would still be there. Indeed, the United States pays more per capita for medical care than any other country on Earth. My first guess for why the disparity exists is that there is a market willing and able to pay more for medical treatment, so suppliers see the demand and respond with higher prices. According to at least one doctor (go to http://scienceblogs.com/denialism/2009/05/what_is_the_cause_of_excess_co.php), part of the reason is administrative prices here. People here have a higher standard of living, and so the cost of care is shifted to

I remember seeing a lot of graffiti on the streets of Port-au-Prince, only the graffiti there was much different than what you would see here. It was all political graffiti: vote for this candidate, elect that candidate. It was like the need to end their poverty was written on the very walls of the city, people etching out their longing for change. It's not like graffiti here doesn't communicate the same message. I read a quote today: a Russian general, sitting around a table of Russians and Americans and Britons, said, "All the people in the world have the same emotions." He was right. Gangs who spray paint their territory are expressing the same message as the Haitians in Port-au-Prince. They are communicating a need to influence their own and others' lives (in this case, to establish their territory). I'm definitely not justifying the gangs' behavior. I know as well as anyone how wrong it is to deface other people's property. What I am saying is

"Of all the world's errors...the most fundamental [is] the 'erasing' of people, the 'hiding away' of suffering." One of the ideas I was exposed to in a junior high leadership camp I attended last summer was the notion that there are invisible students. These students, it was implied, needed to be included, made visible. On reflection, there were definitely students this last year at school who fit that idea. This issue reaches beyond school, though. I got the quote above from Mountains Beyond Mountains , which covers the efforts of one man to end TB in Haiti and elsewhere. The problem of invisibility is pandemic, and like other diseases, there are different varieties. The first is voluntary invisibility: a person chooses not to stand out in any way, and in fact tries to hide when confronted with the option to stand out, because-- among other reasons-- he or she fears being judged by peers or wants to avoid failure. This involves a need to be self-act

We all fear something. I'm afraid of heights, aspartame, and rejection (okay, so maybe not aspartame). When I fail to face these fears, however, I come away with one of two reactions: I drown in the well of kismet (I believe I was intended to be this way), or I failed to act when it was in my power to do so. Both responses have in them an ugliness. The determinist, who claims there is little or nothing that can be done to correct our behavior, bows to fate and lays himself down to rest in utter defeat. The man who ascribes to free will may have the ability to change, but willingly and decisively fails time and again to do so. I side with this latter free will scientist/artist (scientist, because it takes the ability to extrapolate how you came to the failures you experienced; and artist, because it takes creativity to come up with a way to sooth your ego when you find out). To avoid these pitfalls, isn't it just easier to face your fears? I keep telling myself this, anyway!

Dana saved us. When another team member and I were struggling to get Haitian preschool children organized, it was Dana who stepped in to help. In fact, she had a way with many of the kids that drew them to her, not least because she was able to pick up and use Creole so quickly. Of all the team members, no one was more passionate about wanting to return one day, and no one more interested in learning about all-things Haitian. Smart, funny, and direct, Dana displayed a natural ability to lead, an ability she will use again one day on the same Haitian soil. At the same time, I could tell that much of her strength had been the result of the trials in her life, those formative moments that God uses to shape us into the people he wants us to become. They seemed to prepare her for life on a larger scale, one that will no doubt include still more surrender, but that will offer her and others the peace that God wants to bring to our world. Dana first heard about the Haiti trip while singin

She likes to mimic others in order to make fun of them, likes the X-Men, and falls asleep in chairs when people are talking to her because she thinks they are boring. Okay, so this last one isn't true, but it is true that Myra enjoys laughing and new experiences, not least this trip to Haiti. Of all the members of our Haiti team, none was affected as much as Myra. Tears fell as she spoke of the things she'd learned from this place. I would learn later that God had answered a prayer of hers, uttered in silence on an early morning walk through a cove. For Myra, Haiti meant change-- renewed perspective-- enough that she's committed wholeheartedly to return some day, perhaps soon. She first heard about the trip to Haiti from an announcement at Lighthouse, in June of last year. Her first thought was that it would be a good way to spend her first summer without school (she recently graduated with her master's degree). Aside from that was the sense that joining the trip &quo

She might look young, and indeed she is; but at only twenty years of age, it was Jessy who had charge of the entire Walk-a-Thon fundraiser that helped launch our trip to Haiti. Quiet but level-headed, Jessy displays a maturity beyond her years, a maturity that showed most clearly in the wisdom she brings to social matters, but also in her plans for the future. In terms of employment, that future isn't completely clear to her, but I found, in talking to her, that she knew exactly where she wanted to be emotionally. She is, in fact, in that place in life where you yearn for independence and seek new experiences. There is, however, much more to Jessy than her future. Indeed, she has much to say about her past, and how that past has influenced her present. In the midst of these conversations, you begin to understand that despite Jessy's uncertainties, she has bright prospects, not least because of her natural ability to interact with and accept anyone she meets. Jessy first heard

It was only if I would let him interview me that Lee would allow me to interview him. As a result, I represent interview eight. To keep with the trend of professional distance, I'll speak about myself in the third person, and relate to you my answers to the same questions I asked of others. This is me. Tony first heard about the Haiti trip in a San Francisco restaurant, amid the conversation of one of the co-leaders, Julie. They had just finished seeing the National Academy of Sciences, and the conversation between Julie and Robyn turned international. Julie's excitement about the trip was contagious, and when she told him offhand that there were still spaces open for male team members, he took immediate interest. Still, such interest brought with it necessary introspection. In his mind, Tony couldn't see whether his desire to go to Haiti grew more from a genuine desire to serve God or simply from an interest in seeing someplace new. Still, it only took a matter of days

Hiding behind one team member's thoughtful and quiet exterior is a jovial, inquisitive man. Of all those on the Haiti team, Lee was the most outward-focused. His interest in other people's lives caught my attention early, perhaps not least because that interest included me. Having had the privilege of observing him before and during our trip, I found in him a spiritual maturity, expressed especially through the peace so visibly felt in his life. Peace was not, however, always something so easily felt by Lee. Indeed, he spoke-- in the humility I've come to see is so characteristic of him-- of the transition he experienced through his marriage, from a place of selfishness to one more selfless. On another occasion, you found he and his wife joking with the group about their starkly opposite natures. There is a forbearance in Lee, such that even in moments of disagreement-- I saw them-- he expressed his concerns in a way he knew would not hurt the other. Indeed, such was his co

We needed her. Jamie's presence on the trip often added a grounded insight into our plans and decisions. At once knowledgeable, level-headed, and strategic, Jamie brought a not-so-common sense to our group when we discussed a situation or experienced a mishap. Indeed, her knowledge of various subjects made her an interesting conversation partner, whether about diseases in Haiti or the causes of eating disorders or swelling. Yet, there is a gentle side to her. Peruse the pictures of our trip and you find her embracing a child or photographing others doing the same. She grew particularly attached, like me, to a toddler named Kerby, apparently deaf from birth. In line with her impulse to teach and invest in others, Jamie began to teach this little boy sign language, and by the end of the trip, he had begun to use it to communicate. Jamie had know that Sandi-- the team leader-- sponsored Adne (an orphan at Hands and Feet), and though she never felt very passionate about disasters at

This leaky faucet Reminds us of rationed futures Teaching those who drink that it’s best to save “Guard yourself,” it seems to say For soon, very soon, none will be left to drink But then, with unexpected abundance, it pours forth Streams of thought point to the place where land and sky kiss And I know now, half asleep, half drunk on the expanse before me That hope is none more than a tease Prodding eyes to follow its waters To look at landscapes long alive Verdant with need and opportunity And I hope, really, for the first time And find my world is bigger than ever before These streams of ours point back Not to me, but to those who still see Just a leaky faucet Reminding them of rationed futures

Don't make too much fun of it. At least it's themed, right? Taking Turns I hate this throne of mine Bright as blackest night It beckons kings to come And then spews out the gravest depredations Convinced in fury of my pride That my loyalty was at end misplaced I tell myself that none will sit there again But still they come, these kings Lined in poised anticipation Who want but to reign in seats, though they know not whose Then I peer past their regal splendor They all wear the same face And I find at end The face I see in them Is the same I saw on me I don’t lose my throne But giving my throne I lose myself And forcing abdication I thrive through freedom’s throne again Only the face I see this time isn’t the same Thoughts emerge That maybe this time my loyalty is well-placed For what have I to call my own But a broken, darkened throne And if a light comes to make it shine I’ve got more than I ever had And I see for the first time That those

I recently read a story about a young man who saved the life of his wife during the tornado in Joplin, Missouri by covering her as the storm raged overhead. It wasn't the first time an act of heroism occurred in a situation like this. Why do we highlight events like these? One verse has surfaced in my mind again and again over the past few days. This is Philippians 2:17, which reads, "But even if I am being poured out like a drink offering on the sacrifice and service coming from your faith, I am glad and rejoice with you." This is a reference to Exodus 29:38-41, where God commands the Israelites how they are to offer daily sacrifices, sacrifices which included drink offerings. How would it feel to be "poured out" for somebody else, to spend your energy, time, money, and other resources for the sake of others? In essence, how would it feel for your perspective to be others-minded? In fact, there's a fulfillment in it that I don't think we always gr

Mix thoughtfulness with humor, devotion, gentleness, and a genuine spirit, and you've only just begun to understand Jordan. Some wondered at his varied facial expressions, but all knew him to be unguarded and honest in his interactions. Though normally quiet, Jordan never hesitated to bring his kindness to bear on the children we met; and for the team, he could switch quickly from attentive conversation partner to fellow worker to comedian. This is Jordan, and this is his story. Jordan first heard about the Haiti mission in a service at Lighthouse. At first he responded in apathy. In fact, he stayed that way and didn't give much thought to the trip until two others-- Jesse and Lee-- joined. Lee specifically talked to him and encouraged him to make his own choice in the matter. Even after Jesse brought him to an informational meeting, Jordan was careful about committing to the team. Commitment, in fact, was the most important factor in his decision: he didn't want to commi

He said no, or so it was taken. Stepping outside that pastor's office, she must have felt a sense of disappointment. Still, few things worth pursuing are ever realized easily. Despite the barriers, what started as an idea eventually materialized into a team of eleven assisting a children's orphanage in Haiti. Sandi was the team leader, before there was a team. It was she who had heard of the orphanage, and she who joined her co-leader to begin the journey to get there. Sandi's story with Hands and Feet began with a friend who was involved with the organization. Hearing of it, she's prayed about supporting it, but it wasn't until 2008, when Hurricane Gustav struck Haiti that she'd made the choice to do so. She had, in fact, always wanted to go to Haiti, but never found a team. Then, on January 9, 2010, Julie-- who would become co-leader-- approached her about Hands and Feet. Their purpose was confirmed when, three days later, the magnitude 7.0 earthquake struck

At eighteen years of age, Corey was the youngest member of the team. Both good-humored and unafraid to engage strangers, he stood to me as the friendliest of us. It was with Corey, in fact, that I talked the most on the trip. He loves to tell stories, not least his own, and relishes in the humor of life's daily mishaps. Corey's character slowly unfolded as the trip went on, especially in his interaction with the children, but it was revealed in particular near the end while discussing an issue obviously near to his heart. This was momentary, but noticed. Corey's story in Haiti began last year at a service at his church called Lighthouse. It was here that he heard the team leader first announce the trip for the next summer. When he first heard the announcement, he felt what he called "the most amazing feeling inside of [his] chest," that God was telling him to go. To get feedback, he first talked to his friend about it. She supported him, but was the only one aro

Julie was one of the two leaders of the trip. It was Julie who first approached Sandi (the other leader) to get the Haiti trip started. She lived in Laos until she was five, is a graphic artist, and has a passion for missions. Julie's ability to see the talents of others led her to choose a specific role that each would play during the trip, myself included. Her passion for life and for God is evident when you meet her. Not shy, Julie threw herself into getting to know the Haitian staff and helping in the kitchen with the cook. What I noticed was that she was undeterred by the Creole-English language barrier: prominent in her was the conviction that love is a universal language. She communicated that to the cook, and stood with her as she cried. Julie's strength, to me, was empathy. I saw this several times as we worked and talked, offering understanding to those with whom she spoke. She also doesn't discriminate when it comes to ice cream. All flavors are fair game for her

On our trip, I had the privilege of interviewing each of the other ten members of the Haiti team. I got the general impression from this experience that these were people with a genuine devotion to their creator and an equally genuine desire to be a part of God's story. In them, you will find emotions ranging from enthusiasm to sorrow, but you will also see a variety of character and experience that helped govern both each person's role on the trip and each person's relationship to the others. There was the strategic and logical; the sociable and good-natured; and the pensive and introspective, among others. This wide landscape of personality and background, far from inviting conflict, led to spirited interactions that made the trip all the more enjoyable. Perhaps most important to me, no one person dominated the experience. There was in it a sense of unity brought forth by our common purpose, which only amplified the lesson I began to learn before the trip began: that life

Our day, the last time we would set eyes on the children, staff, and orphanage, consisted mostly of travel. We started our day riding in a van over the same lush mountains we scaled on the way to Jacmel, entered the same teeming city-- enlivened by merchants, traffic, and the bright, contrasting colors of its buildings-- and faced the same cultural challenges at the Port-au-Prince airport that we had faced on our way out of that airport: men insisting on helping to carry luggage and guide us to our destination. After several passport and baggage checks, we stepped aboard a plane bound for Miami, and only hours later-- as I write this-- found ourselves spanning the United States as we flew to San Francisco. The thought that became more salient today was just how much Haitian and U.S. cultures differ. The people here in the U.S., myself included, are so guarded compared to those in Haiti. It seems like poverty, ugly as it is, leaves its victims without the luxury of shoring up a particul

It's our last full day at the orphanage. The trip has been somewhat challenging, but I think the more relevant and appropriate word would be "sobering." this was perhaps most true today. After our morning work-- painting the girls' balcony and cleaning and setting up a room for the visiting board of directors-- we drove to the "Sisters of Charity," a Catholic church and hospital. I read that AIDS was the most widespread disease in Haiti, but facts like these don't tell each child's story. I held in my arms and threw playfully in the air a child with HIV today. It made me feel like I was helping him forget that he is away from home. I liked that he smiled and laughed as we played, and it was meaningful that he wanted me to hold him. In fact, the moment he saw me, he wanted me to hold him, and I did so for most of our stay. Actually, I don't know that this particular child contracted HIV, but most of these children have. They are obviously accustom

Our day today started slowly. We woke up later than normal, and didn't start work until 9:00. A teammate noted that this mission trip has been different than any other, that we have time to think and relate. She was right. Our workweek started with full days of work, but yesterday and today involved much less. We washed the two cars today, painted the rest of the second floor's banister, and moved furniture. The highlight of the day, surprisingly, happened at breakfast. A few of us talked with the director, a doctor-administrator named Ken, about how he came here, where Hands and Feet is going, and about the inspiration a charitable woman has been to he and his wife. I found it inspiring that Hands and Feet plans to expand into eleven orphanages, to nearly four times their current size. I learned that the people here are giving these kids the chance at a future. Ken was told, for instance, that one boy-- Marco-- can be apprenticed to become a commercial pilot. I remember thinki

We played soccer again this morning. I did well as goalie-- that is, until I let five goals past me. Oh well. Our day working was more relaxed compared to previous days. We painted the ceiling of one of the girls' rooms. The smell of urine reminded me that these kids don't have near as much as we do. Maybe, though, they have more. This place is rich with relationship and love, which can't be said of many homes in the U.S. Later, we painted the second floor of the children's dining area (a floor which houses the boys), a few of us climbing a ladder to paint the banister face. Afterward, we bought souvenirs from merchants who come specifically for guests of the Hands and Feet, then went to a local market for snacks and coffee, among other things. As we get to know some of the kids and people, I'm learning more about Haitian culture. Driving here is like charging into battle, a vehicle passing at near-highway speeds and honking at anyone who might be walking on the

We played soccer near the ocean this morning. We got there around 5:30 or so, but the sun was already up. the kids are serious about their game, and show it emotionally. The ride to and from the game (and the game of tag we played) was almost as fun as the game itself. There were several of us in the back of our pick-up truck, holding on as we sped past motorcyclists or tap-taps at forty-five miles an hour (or so it felt). The wind was soothing. Our work for the day was two-fold: we spent most of it weeding around the playground, which looked so much more like professional landscaping when we finished. It was, I think, more challenging than yesterday because it wasn't as easy to see your progress compared to painting, work that is very evident as your progress. Afterward, at around 3:30, we took care of the children as the nannies attended a women's service at church. After a time, Corey and I took responsibility for the preschoolers. This was bad, at first. A few of the boys

I was a little disappointed that I didn't get up to play soccer this morning. On the way to the beach is a green soccer field with netless goalposts on either side. Set next to the ocean, it would have been beautiful to play as the sun rose. Life is slower here, but fulfilling. We painted almost the entire first floor of the children's dining hall. This place is beautiful. Behind the double-gated complex is a mountain lush with green, climbing past clouds. Inside, it seems a world away from Port-au-Prince, and different than Jacmel, also. The children are protected here, fostered, loved. The buildings-- there are three main buildings-- are bright with blues, purples, oranges, and greens around their trims. Kids play soccer on unlevel ground and swing on wood swings, while others might play on a raised playground in the background. Despite the double gates, the place is inviting, though outside it is necessary to be alert. Young men-- most here are young-- sit or stand along the

We attended church this morning. We expected it to be different, and it was. There were pews in front of a raised stage from which the leader spoke, and the activities they took part in were the same we experience in the U.S., but the way in which they took part in those activities differed from my own experience. Aside from being conducted in Creole, the service was divided into short phases of worship, scripture reading, prayer, and liturgy. After a leader led the children in a song, then led the congregation in another, a new leader approached to oversee the giving of small banners to women in the church, who would either hang them on the wall nearby or put them away. A young lady was then invited up to lead Scripture reading, and when she finished, the leader would approach to lead us in another song. Another handful of missionaries were invited up to lead us in their own worship song, this time in English, and then three children approached to lead yet another song. Prayer followe

I was in Jacmel, Haiti, this past week with a team of eleven people. To say the least, it was memorable. I documented some of the highlights of the trip, from my perspective. Unfortunately, two days into the trip, I lost my notebook, which means I lost my entries for the first few days. From my memory, here were the highlights of those days. Over the next days, I also plan to post interviews with my fellow team members, who were without exception happy to let me share their experiences. I'll start at the Port-au-Prince airport. We were told to guard our luggage upon entry, and now I know why. Waiting for us as we approached our luggage were several men in blue shirts, counting and organizing our checked baggage. These were airport employees. With our minds on simply gathering our bags and getting out of the airport, this took us as somewhat of a surprise. Although they were employees, it is customary (as it is here) for a traveler to tip in cases like these. They'd already do