It’s kind of funny, or it seems like it might be next week, when we’re sitting around in Birmingham looking back on the trip. When I first met Anne, she warned me that itineraries in Haiti are more general guidelines, than any sort of reliable timetable. I laughed, and assured her that we (Bedouins) were ready for anything.

In truth, we were ready for more than she expected. But for my part, I wasn’t quite ready for Haiti, and the full weight of all that she has to throw at travelers. Which is considerable.

Twenty people in a pickup bed. Heat like a sauna, from 8 in the morning until sundown. Major roads that look like washed-out gullies. Dust, dust, and more dust, covering and pervading all my gear. All of which seem trivial in comparison to the sinister machinations and dirty politicking of the simplest transactions, from buying gas or souvenirs, to hiring a ride across town. Our guide and translator, Alan, has saved our bacon more times than I can count. Put another way, without Alan our bacon would be in a dirty market stall on the other side of Cap Haitien right now, and somehow we would have given US dollars to the hustler who stole it from us. It’s just that sketchy.

But God, as I’ve said, is so good. We pray every morning, for wisdom, for guidance, for unity in our group and for Christ-like compassion. And as weird as it seems to the scientist in me, it actually appears to work! Imagine that. I guess that happens to everyone, the “new every morning” wonder at God’s faithfulness, His real-ness, when He orchestrates events completely beyond our control to grow our faith, and glorify Himself.

Case in point: Our trip across the river, to the village that had never been host to white people. Ann had known for years, almost a decade in fact, that the second village was over there somewhere, but had somehow never made the trek. It’s understandable, the school at Coco Beach consumes a huge amount of time and energy. But on Saturday we found ourselves wending through the cacti and Spanish bayonets, into a world simultaneously brand new and very, very old. When we walked into the village, the first woman we saw was carrying a baby. She called out to us, asking for help. When we got closer we saw that the baby, a boy of about a year, was shaking his head violently from side to side, staring straight up at the sky.

Speaking to us through Alan, she said that the baby was sick, which was as much detail as she could offer. We perceived however, pretty much immediately, that the boy was blind, or very close to it. His eyes were crossed, and focused on nothing, his jaw slack as he shook his head, attempting to capture a stray shaft of light. His face was covered with tiny bumps, scars perhaps from a bout of pox or worse, probably the cause of his blindness. Regardless, Ann decided on the spot that the boy “must and shall” have medical attention, and after we conducted our interviews we loaded both mother and child into the truck, and began the two-hour journey back to Cap Haitien.

So many “ifs…” If we hadn’t decided to cross the river… If we weren’t with Ann, whose love for these people borders on mania… If we hadn’t decided to take this project! That little boy would still be out there, in a village that has no name known outside its borders, shaking his head at the sky. Instead he’s waiting for his appointment with an ophthalmologist in Cap Haitien, a grateful mother hoping that someday he won’t remember a time when he couldn’t see.

I love, love, love this mission. God birthed a dream in us that we simply weren’t qualified for, so huge we couldn’t possibly plan for it. But as we continue to chase Him into the unknown, He continues to show Himself faithful. I’m content to chase Him until I drop, cameras rolling on a miracle, His glory unfolding at 24 frames per second.

See you soon!

In Christ,

Paul

Tuesday, September 16th, 2008 7:23 am | Posted by Paul | RSS 2.0 feed | Comment | Trackback