I want to thank everyone who took the time to tell me “Happy Birthday”!  Thanks to all who helped make it a special day.

So perhaps the best part of having a birthday is the cake, right?

Fellow Heartline co-worker Melissa Alberts was kind enough to make my favorite kind: chocolate.

As far back as I can remember, my birthday cakes have always been chocolate.  Times haven’t changed much as you can see in the picture below of me celebrating my third (also outside the USA):

On the evening of my 30th, all the Heartline staff threw me a pizza party.  In the picture below I’m holding a special one with the numbers “30” created from pepperoni’s!  Wow, it was all really delicious.

It did feel weird being overseas on my birthday.

But last year on April 25th I was also overseas: in Venice, Italy, celebrating the occasion with three random people I met at a hostel: an Argentinian, a Mexican, and a Filipino. 

And last year I remember having pizza too: at an outdoor café with my new acquaintances in Venice. Considering I was in Italy, it wasn’t that good. I thought they would have the corner on great pizza, seeing they invented it. But somehow the staff here at this unassuming guesthouse in Port-au Prince, Haiti have managed to improve greatly on the original design.

Here is a pic from last years 29th birthday, with my “International Friends for a Day.” 

I wonder if I’ve changed in the last year?  Am I in any way better now than before? 

One time I heard someone say we’ll be the same person a year from now as today except for the people we meet and the books we read.  In the last year I’ve done my fair share of both (meeting and reading), so maybe I am different somehow?

Post “big day” I feel the same.  Turning 30 wasn’t depressing, just another day.  What I think helped soften the blow of leaving my 20’s is bright hope for the future.  I’m excited about what all is coming up!

Though I’ve always imagined being in a far different stage of life than I am now at this age (like responsibly holding down a regular job and married with kids), I sure can’t complain.  Life has been good.  And the Lord has been good to me too: I have a life rich in relationships and experiences.

Like Abraham Lincoln once said, ”In the end, it’s not the years in your life that count. It’s the life in your years.”

They say nothing we learn goes to waste.  In relation to language progress in Creole, I’d say that is true.  Every time I learn a new word I quickly find a use for it.

In the process of memorizing John 3:16 in Creole I learned the word for “eternal” (p’ap janm fini).  At the bank today I needed that word to describe the speed of the tellers: eternally slow. 

Then today I learned the word for daughter (pitit fi).  This evening a neighbor came to our gate asking for help with his sick teenage daughter who needed an operation, something wrong with her stomach.  The cost of the operation was US $70 and could I please help?  He had a stamped paper from the Dr’s office dated from yesterday with both diagnosis and cost listed.  I couldn’t tell, but wondered if the problem was perhaps a ruptured appendix.

People here often make reference to the popular book, “When Helping Hurts”  which lays out the basic premise that handing away free stuff creates unhealthy dependency and should be avoided.  It says our best intentions usually hurt people more than help people, especially when we try solving local problems through doling out cash.

In general, I agree. Nevertheless, each situation is unique, and requires wisdom.

As I listened to the father describe his situation, some advice came to mind I’d recently heard at a seminar here in Haiti.  A long-term missionary said when you move into a new neighborhood, undoubtedly a situation will arise where you are asked to give emergency medical aid to someone in the community.  He added that the manner in which you first respond will set the tone and precedent for all future dealings.  He laid out three options.

The first was to do nothing and turn the person away.  This is arguably the least compassionate response, though does certainly avoid the pitfall of creating unhealthy dependency. Some would argue this option is best for helping in the long run.  The result in reputation is having the neighborhood perceive you as seperate from the local community.  Not to mention a miser, because it’s no secret “white people” are loaded down with money.  I may not perceive myself as rich, but considering I have enough money to fly to and from Haiti at will, I’m far and away richer than the majority of people here.

The second option is to simply give the full amount of cash required.  At face value, this response seems most compassionate and even most Biblical as well.  After all, didn’t Jesus say, “Give to him who asks”?  Nevertheless, this does most certainly set up a patronage relationship.  The result in neighborhood perception is to be viewed as a pushover, a money bags, and worse yet, perhaps even a sucker (if the story wasn’t even legitimate). 

This leaves the third option of helping pay some of the costs.  The long-term missionary I was listening to implied this option is perhaps the best balance between compassionate and culturally appropriate.  It both helps the immediate need while at the same time defusing patronage dynamics.  The reputation hopefully garnered in taking this option is to be seen as one who stands in solidarity with the community, as a part of it.

As you might guess, I decided on option 3, but not before first discussing the situation in private with our Haitian yardman, getting his input into what he thought the validity of the actual need was. 

Giving the man some money, I also told him I felt quite bad about the situation and would be praying for his daughter.  His response was a thankful one and he implied he would ask others for the remainder, telling me that while he had some money of his own he had used it all on the doctors examination and tests. 

Anyways, maybe I did the right thing, hard to say, but I did feel bad because the entire bill was such a small sum ($70) it hurt to not just pay it all. What if he can’t raise the rest of the funds? What if, while he’s out collecting donations from neighbors and friends, his daughter dies of internal bleeding? All because I was following an idealistic principal of what would truly help more? Following a principal that is based, at least in part, on maintaining my own reputation in a certain light within the community?

I wrote this post to help process my own rationale for what’s best, and to get wise input from them what has more experience than myself (them what wants to share it).  I tend to over-analyze everything in life. Both a strength and a weakness. Feel free to comment.

My co-workers Ryan & Melissa are back in the States this week.  I drove them to the airport this morning.  Then my co-worker Barry went back to the States on Wednesday.  He’s now Facebooking pictures of snow from out the window of his 3,000-story hotel in New York City.

I was trying to remember what it was like back in America, back in the States.  Today I drove close to 4 hours around Port-au Prince and that wasn’t an un-typical day.  I haven’t been here long, but already my brain seems to filter out most the smog and litter and garbage and general mayhem.  Something has to be pretty unusual to grab my attention.  Like when those two people passed me today on a moto with the rear passenger having tucked under his arms the end of two looong wooden 2×4’s, letting the other ends drag way behind along the ground.  And they weren’t going particularly slow… passing me at perhaps 30mph.

I’ve always wanted to roller-blade behind a car.  You know, tie a rope to the rear bumper and have a friend drive while I skate behind holding on like water skiing?  I‘m thinking Haiti would be a good place to practice this without anyone telling me different.

The lack of road rules may even be wearing off on the UN. I thought this after seeing one of their massive trucks roll by with a cardboard box atop and, instead of it being properly fastened with a strap, a soldier was precariously balanced on high, leaning at a dangerous angle and holding the box from falling out while they drove through traffic.  Didn’t look safe, or what I imagined would be per official Policies & Procedures for safe cargo transport.

So anyways, I was trying to remember what the States looked like.  To that effect I pulled up my road trip pictures from 2011.  This did jog my memory.

Since I’ve never posted my State signs collection from that trip, I thought now would be a good time to pay tribute to what some of our wonderful States look like.  At least what their wonderful entry signs look like.  Though granted, the scenery and signs are marred by my presence in the foregrounds, backgrounds, and sidegrounds.

Perhaps these pictures prove I was too bored on that trip…

Hoping the next “Grand American Road Trip Adventure” will be with someone more entertaining than myself!

In Haiti, roads chew up cars. 

Granted, the primary inter-city roads aren’t too bad, but in Port-au Prince the best streets are heavily pot-holed and the worst all but impassable.

Today I was behind the wheel perhaps four hours running errands.  With no A/C I had the windows down, enjoying the heavy smell of aromatic diesel smog.  Nearly got in several wrecks, but as is usual, all were just near misses.

There is usually always some type of excitement here in Haiti on a daily basis.  Maybe as little as a freezing cold shower to jar my nerve endings awake in the morning.  Or maybe as interesting as a random stranger opening the backdoor of your car and start pulling out grocery bags, then running off with them.  This just happened to a friend of mine.

I’m thinking what the routine excitement for today was.  Was it that time I got stopped by the police and they weren’t happy with my insurance paperwork?  This caused drama, but worked itself out (though somewhat underhandedly).  Was it that other time I was stopped in traffic on an uphill and accidentally rolled my vehicle back into a Land Cruiser?  Oops.  But no, he just laughed and waved me on.  Or how about the leather factory I visited that had the antique equipment, musty odors, and unique products exported worldwide?  Nah.  Maybe it was searching the bottom of our kitchen oven with a flashlight for the rats nest our workers are pretty sure is hiding under there? 

All these were interesting, but when I think back on today the most surreal moments are when I was interacting with the needy.  Beggars coming up to my window asking for money.  A man in the factory performing repetitive tasks for hours on end: tedious labor in exchange for a living no American would envy.

Perhaps most poignant was a young street boy wiping down cars in between bumper to bumper traffic with his little rag.  Could he have been older than seven years?  I let him clean the dust off our vehicle while we inched along.  At times he would run to keep up.  In order to reach the front window he jumped up on our running boards, catching a free ride while he worked.  I gave him 25 GD for his labor and at the time felt especially charitable for 1) having given him my business (how many other kids did I turn away?) and 2) giving so generously as the going rate is only 10 GD for this service.  But when the equivalent of 25 GD is still only 50 cents, how could I have possibly felt charitable for that? 

Living on the streets in Port-au Prince is a difficult life.  One of the main motivations I’m here is to try helping just such kids.  It weighs heavy on my heart that as I get ready to go to sleep in a nice bed with a pleasant fan blowing, that same little boy who wiped down my window earlier is most likely curled up in some alleyway with a piece of cardboard over him.

Well, on that cheery thought, guess I’ll go to sleep now.

Tomorrow morning I’m planning to attend a seminar on the state of the national church in Haiti. I’m thinking they better have some good excuses ready. 

Goodnight.

The last several weeks have been nonstop.  So busy I’m dizzy.

Therefore I requested today (Monday) off – and it was granted.  Last night I slept 14 hours!  Holy smokes.  Then late this morning I was happily munching cereal whilst watching others work.

After getting caught up on a mess of e-mails, making a relaxing airport run (stopping by Deli-Mart for a chocolate Bongu drink enroute), and playing the piano at Ryan and Melissa’s house (thanks!) I now feel composed enough to write a blog post relating pertinent happenings.

***   Three days later…   ***

It’s hard to find time to write (and finish) blog posts.  Now it is Thursday.  Without further ado, and with my thinking cap firmly affixed, I’m attempting another noble stab at publishing this.

Barry & Run for Life

Let’s see, my friend Barry McDonald ran across Haiti as a fundraiser for Heartline.  My part was to drive one of the support vehicles.  In short, this was an epic adventure.  Who else gets to go road-tripping across a beautiful third world Caribbean country? 

Despite the fact we lodged in a few nice places, mostly we stayed at hole-in-the-wall hotels and local ministries widely differing in quality (though great hospitality all around). 

I now have a much better grasp of the geography of Haiti, seeing I logged about 50 hours behind the wheel.  And some 50 miles laced up on the road chugging along with Barry.  Perhaps no better way to see the country than on foot, eh?

On the run we had occasional excitement what with roadblocks, protests, Barry about keeling over from injury, our truck getting stuck in the mud, team drama, and an auto accident witnessed before my eyes. 

The day after we got back home, excitement continued with Ryan and Melissa’s house getting broken into while they were home sleeping.  Ryan wrote about that here.  And in the photo below Ryan is getting the Canter unstuck.  He gets around.

Other Happenings

So what else is happening?  Time is flying by.  It seems like I’ve only been with Heartline a few days and it’s coming up on two months.  They keep me hopping.  This week Ryan and I are spending coaxing our ministry 4Runner back to life.  We’re making progress, its’ heart is beating again.

I’ve read a few books recently: African Friends and Money Matters, The Copper Scroll (Rosenberg), Monster (Peretti) and The Forgotten Children (about terrible conditions in Northern Uganda).  Wish I could read more, but don’t have much reading material, nor time.

Since coming to Haiti I haven’t watched a single movie or hardly any YouTube.  Internet is slow.  Oftentimes my entertainment during an evening is visiting with guests.  I’ve met many interesting people. It’s sad saying “goodbye” so often.

Another great form of entertainment (and one of my favorite things to do) is driving around town with music cranked up, singing along.  Few people in Haiti own a car or know how to drive.  It’s a shame, because they’re missing out on a real pleasure.

Somewhere in the world it is cold outside.  That place is not here.  Somewhere in the world all mosquitoes are deceased, happily tucked into their graves.  That place is not here.  The other night I woke up because my fan had gone off (which means city power had gone off, the backup batteries had died, and the generator was out of gas).  Consequently, mosquitoes were chewing me up with their fang thingies, particularly my head and arms.  In my drowsy stupor I got up and took from my shelf what I thought was the all-natural ingredients variety of insect spray and squirted it right at my face and all over my head.  Then I looked at the bottle and saw I had picked up 100% DEET spray instead of Lemon Eucalyptus.  Oh well, no more bug bites that night.  Perhaps cancer next week though.

Health Stats

I was surprised to notice I’m losing weight.  For the longest time I always tipped the scales at a comfortable 165 pounds.  But at the clinic last week I measured myself on a spiffy scale (with balancing weights) and it reported I was down to a middling 154.  Hmm, 11 pounds under normal.  On the bright side, maybe now my previously non-existent gut is gone.

At one of the hotels we visited there was a floor length mirror (not attached to the wall, but in the room) and upon witnessing my scarecrow self made a mental note to begin working out.

It’s not that I don’t eat, I eat like a horse.  But it’s healthier food than I’m used to.  I don’t know… my body might not do healthy.  Leastways, it’s not used to it, and healthy doesn’t stick to my ribs like Taco Bell, apparently.

Here is a picture of my Daily Bread (rice and beans with chicken):

Discussion on Poverty Relief vs. Teaching God’s Word

So I’ve been thinking a lot about the entire “alleviating poverty vs Gospel work” debate.  Over the last few weeks I’ve seen and visited with a number of people in various ministries.  And worldwide I’ve interviewed many ministries and seen firsthand this struggle Christian organizations have between meeting pressing physical needs with less apparent spiritual ones.

I’ve heard it said we don’t need to share God’s Word because showing love is enough.  Others claim our focus should be on long term development, creating jobs, alleviating misery.  Here in Haiti there is certainly plenty of physical misery.  Read Dying in Haiti – No Urgency for the Poor, if you want to be depressed about misery here.

I’m thinking the deeper issues are deeper than meets the eye.  Jesus said, “I tell you, my friends, do not be afraid of those who kill the body and after that can do no more.  But I will show you whom you should fear: Fear him who, after your body has been killed, has authority to throw you into hell. Yes, I tell you, fear him.” (Luke 12:4-5)

I recently saw a motorcycle accident happen.  When I came up to the thrown cyclist his obvious visible injury was a broken leg.  But I remembered from my EMT class being taught it’s not uncommon for the more serious injuries to be internal so not to get hung up on something that looks bad on the outside.  Forgetting this can result in someone dying from hidden injuries while the responder is busy treating serious, but not life-threatening, external problems. 

In the same way, I think there is room for caution in thinking we only need to treat physical need and neglect spiritual need.  I think saying all we need to do is “share God’s love” is misguided.

No doubt poverty and destitution kill people.  It has, it does, and will continue, despite interventions of well meaning people.  Poverty will never be eradicated.  Even Jesus said so, “The poor you will always have with you, and you can help them any time you want.” (Mark 14:7). 

Feeding programs, home construction projects, medical clinics, schools: all efforts at helping that can be accomplished by both Christians and non-Christians.  What I ask myself is, “What can a believer do that a non-believer can’t?” 

Well, they can give hope to others for the next life.  They can share their faith.  They can tell about their personal relationship with God.  They can teach God’s Word, the Bible.  In short, they can treat “internal injuries.”

I have more to say on this topic, but am too tired to write it. 

On Enjoying Life

I’ve never met someone who wasn’t going through something challenging in their life.  Even those who look like all is together are still invariably hurting about something or being stretched in some way.  That’s just the way life works.

Despite this fact, I find it good to step back and thank the Lord for everything that is going well.  To thank the Lord for the glimmers of beauty he shines through into this sin-cursed world. 

Sometimes the beauty in life hits me over the head, like last week when I enjoyed the stunning sunset pictured below.  Other times it’s more subtle, like sharing laughter with a good friend.  But life is a beautiful thing, and it’s imortant not to take it for granted, I think. 

“God, grant me the serenity to accept the things I cannot change,
The courage to change the things I can,
And wisdom to know the difference.”
~Reinhold Niebuhr