I know we’ve only been here for a few days, but I’ve already lost track of days and times.  Our day starts when we the sun rises and roosters crow.  We were told that since today was our first full day of work, and because there was enough people in the morning to help, that we could sleep in and check in for work around 11 am.  I would have been all for sleeping in that long, however, when it’s so hot you’re sweating in your tent around 8 am, sleeping in isn’t really a comfortable experience.

Today was a full day for John and me.  We started out working in the supplies/logistics area.  That means we helped organize and distribute the tons of medical supplies coming in.  Towards mid-day, John and I split up.  I was running full-tilt helping feed the Haitian translators, moving patients from the ICU unit (which is a modular trailer) to the patient care area (which is an open-air tent) to setting up a huge lodging tent which, in the end, had to be folded back up because it was shipped without all the poles.  That seems to be a fairly normal experience.  Things that you would expect to be here are missing, and then odd things, like lollipops, show up everywhere.  It is a chaotic experience at best, and yet I found it exhilarating to be running from place to place, bringing my Haitian work crew with me to help load bunk-beds at one place and moving medical supplies into a new storage room at another place.

At times I almost forget what’s going on around me.  I’m here helping move boxes, and because those boxes are in the place they are supposed to be, people’s lives are being saved.  There are tons of doctors and nurses around doing surgeries and check-ups all day, and they thank John and me continually for being here helping them have the things they need.

The atmosphere is incredible.  So many people here to help and people here because they know these people need more than just to see a doctor – they need the Master Physician.  They need to know that God loves them and nothing can separate them from that.

When I went into the patient care tent, it broke my heart to see so many people lying on mattresses on the dirt ground, many with rods and pins sticking out of their side or arms or legs.  There are a lot of wheel chairs with patients who just had a leg or foot amputated; I can’t imagine what it would be like facing the future after such a surgery.

And yet, in the tent where people were laying and often times moaning in pain, there began to be singing.  Rising gently and then becoming a full on clapping and joyful harmony of song, the patients were singing gospel songs in Creole, often followed by “amen” or “hallelujah”.  How does James put it, “Rejoice in your trials”?  I had shivers up and down my spine when I walked out of that tent because I knew that these people knew God in a way that went so much deeper than most people will ever know.  God is all they have, everything else is literally gone from their lives, and yet because they have Him they are rich, they can sing. 

These folks really have nothing.  One of the Haitian guys I was working with lost everything.  I asked him what he thought he would do next.  He looked into the distance and simply said, “I don’t know.” 

And yet it’s amazing to talk with them and ask them to teach me Creole and laugh together at the little things that happen throughout the day.  My Haitian friends love to try to teach me their language.  (I say try because I’m a pretty slow student and most of the time we end up using sign language – a lot of laughing at my expense, which I fully embrace.)

I’m excited as I look ahead and know I’ll be here another week and a half.  Yet, at the same time, I doubt things will get easier.  People and teams are constantly changing, moving in and moving out.  There is always a tension because the area hospital continues to fill with people who have no homes and no food.  Many offer to help work if we will give them a meal.  The organizations (Good Samaritan and a few others) are already straining to supply food to the volunteers and patients, running a food bill upwards of five or six thousand dollars a day.  After working a full day in the hot sun, a couple of guys from my crew came up asking me if they could please have some milk.  Again, I forgot my surroundings.  These guys have nowhere to go, and whatever I give them is the only thing they’ll be eating for the night and next morning.

I’m hoping John will share what his day was like today when he writes the next update.  He did more pastoral care, going around and talking to patients, listening to their story and praying for them.  I know it impacted him greatly and I look forward to doing some of the same ministry as things go on.
 
Thank you and bless you for your prayers and support for John and me.  As I reread my update, I realize it’s impossible to fully convey what things are like down here.  It is amazing, scary, exciting, and sad, all at the same time.  Please pray for strength as we work long hours in the sun, for opportunities to minister to patients and fellow workers, and for the work that is happening here to continue.
 
Bless you all, and may you know that whatever circumstances you find yourself in, with God there is always a reason to sing.

- Eric

I want to help John and Eric!

This entry was posted on Friday, January 29th, 2010 at 5:49 pm and is filed under Haiti. You can follow any responses to this entry through the RSS 2.0 feed. Both comments and pings are currently closed.