Glimpses of the Scout Group

Wrestling with the wheel I press down harder on the accelerator. Jason always did drive faster than me, and it now takes all my skill and concentration to navigate the winding, bumpy, obstacle ridden, back roads to keep up with him. We’ve just picked up the scout group from the airport, only 5 hours after scheduled arrival time, and we’re on our way home.

In the back of the pickup in front of us, Stephan and Curt steady the luggage as we jostle over rubble, bumps and potholes.

At home, the adults struggle, (and fail) to keep their eyes open. Was it 48 hours since they last slept?

Meanwhile Jayden and Justin enjoy some extra attention from new found friends.

That night, after house orientation and a spaghetti dinner, the ‘hotel’ is set up.

From 2012

“Cockroaches come out at night.” I warn the boys just as they are falling asleep. When they groan in horror and disbelief, I can’t help but remind them that boy scouts are supposed to be brave, and should show no sign of fear over some harmless, albeit disgusting, little critters that might crawl into their mouths while they sleep! Mean of me, I know.

The following morning begins dark and early. The clock is barely touching 5:00 a.m. when it’s time to get up. As the scouts and leaders get organized, I work as fast as I can to get breakfast and lunch ready for the group. When it’s time to leave I wave goodbye as they all pile into the pickup truck.

Today they will be working in the land of Canaan, a tent city that formed outside of Port au Prince after the earthquake on 'Promised Land'. Promised by the government, that is.

12 hours later they return, full of stories and pictures about Haitian pastors, Jerusalem (a part of Canaan of course), house building, food distribution, hiking Mount Moab, meeting a Haitian scout group, and making new friends.

A View of Canaan.

Mount Moab.

One of the two building sites.

First building site from above.

Second Building Site.

New friends.   Getting ready for a rice and pasta distribution via the local pastor.

Posing with a Haitian Scout Group.

Getting ready to drive home, and looking forward to some ice cold water and Haitan pop after a hot day in the desert like terrain.

First Day of School

“Mom! I can’t find my uniform shorts and I think I missed the bus.” A sleepy Jayden stumbles towards me in the semi darkness. Repositioning Justin in my left arm, I reach for him with my right and pull him close until all three of us are comfortably settled on the couch. 

“It’s only six o'clock Jayden and your school doesn’t use school buses.” 

“Are the roads too bumpy?” 

“Yes.” (The only school buses I’ve seen in our neighborhood are abandoned and slowly disintegrating.) 

“Mommy and Justin will bring you to school, but we don’t have to leave for over an hour yet.” “A whole hour?” “Yes.” Sighing impatiently he snuggles closer and I slowly rub his back. 15 minutes later Jason is up and I make some buns for him to take to work. Since he has room on some of his flights today, Nadia, our visitor from Ontario, will be flying along. 

When they leave 30 minutes later, I get to work helping Jayden get ready for his big day. Together we eat toast for breakfast. Then I help him brush his teeth, put on his uniform and get snacks and a drink ready in his Lightning McQueen lunchbox and cup.

“What’s your teacher’s name again?” I ask him now. 

“Mrs. Ackerman.” He promptly responds. “And I’m going to be very good!” 

“That’s good!” I smile at him and ruffle his hair. We finish packing his back pack together and then Jayden runs to his bedroom. Seconds later he returns with a large glass bead. 

“Can I give this to my teacher Mom?” He asks. “Why don’t you give her one of the bracelets you made instead?” I respond. “Okay!” He smiles excitedly and slips a brightly coloured bead bracelets in the front pocket of his backpack. Justin sitting beside his big brother on the couch looks on with large blue eyes.

“Now, before we go to school there is one more thing we’re going to do.” 

“What Mom?” 

“We’re going to memorize a Bible verse and practice it 5 times every morning, and then learn a new one each week.” 

“Okay.” He nods at me soberly and I open the Bible to Psalm 107:1. 

O give thanks unto the LORD, for he is good: for his mercy endureth for ever. 

After explaining what the words mean, we slowly repeat the words together five times. The ancient words, ever new, soothe my heart. “O give thanks unto the LORD, for he is good; for his mercy endureth forever.

Once we’ve finished reciting we bow our heads and pray. Taking turns, we lift up this new school year and this new milestone in Jayden’s life, to God in prayer. When we’re finished we make our way outside, and Jayden proudly tells Anoud and Denise he’s finally going to school. They smile and encourage him and then after a quick picture, it’s time to go.

On the way to school we pass one of the broken down school buses. This one isn’t going anywhere any time soon!

At Quisqeya Christian School, the guards have already opened the gates and I maneuver into a makeshift parking spot. Jayden excitedly jumps out as I unbuckle Justin. Since the Kindergarten classroom is located on the upper right corner of the building we take the stairs up.

Julie White, another MAF pilot’s wife who will be working as a Teacher’s Aid this year helps Jayden hang up his backpack on his hook. 

On the door a brightly coloured display welcomes the 14 new kindergarten students. 

Inside we meet Mrs. Ackerman, who greets us and shows Jayden where to sit. I watch as he excitedly takes his spot. 

He’s been waiting forever to go to school and doesn’t show one ounce of nervousness. Still remembering crying on my first day of kindergarten 22 years ago, I'm relieved to see how confident he is.

Once he’s settled and I’ve taken a few more pictures, I bid Jayden goodbye. 

Justin quickly falls asleep on the way home, and in the uncharacteristic stillness I blink back a tear. O give thanks unto the LORD, for he is good; for his mercy endureth forever; once again the familiar words bring comfort. Even in the changes that time inevitably brings, His mercy and His love endures forever!

Perspective

Thursday, August 2, 6:15 a.m.

The soft ringing of Jason’s cell phone alarm penetrates through to my consciousness and I slowly open my eyes. It’s Thursday, August 2, and we’ve been back in Haiti for less than five days. After the initial rosy feelings of being ‘home at last’ faded, reality quickly set in. The water pump didn’t work, generator couldn’t start, city power wouldn’t turn on, the cupboards were bare, we couldn’t stop sweating and instead of resting at night I killed cockroaches with my flip flops.  

Just when I felt like complaining, Palo and Wilson, neighbour boys, came knocking on the gate at 8:00 p.m. saying they hadn’t eaten all day. I was ashamed. Here I was stressing about the fact that I couldn’t wash my hands and that we had to limit our use of fans to conserve power, and these two boys hadn’t eaten anythingall day. Together with Jayden I quickly made peanut butter sandwiches and passed them through the gate to the hungry boys.

Pausing my thought stream, I sleepily turn over and watch Jason brush his teeth in the adjacent bathroom. Just then, another sound registers. Something is wrong. I sit up. What is that? Someone is screaming. No wait, wailing. Not just one person, but two. I sit up. “Jezi, Jezi.” (Jesus, Jesus) “Jocemine, Jocemine.” My heart skips a beat. It’s Anoud and Denise. Did they wake up to find their 3 year old daughter dead?

Wide awake now, I jump out of bed. A second later a panicked Denise is standing by our bedroom window. “Madam Jason.” She sobs “Vini.” (Come). “Jocemine.” She lets out another ragged sob.

“Nap vini.” (We’re coming). I yell, and together with Jason I race through the kitchen door and into the courtyard. Dawn is still breaking as we make our way to the bedroom where Jocemine sleeps. Inside, Anoud is holding the limp child in his arms. She moans. I let out a sigh of relief. She’s alive.

“Mete li andan.” (Take her inside.) I motion for them to follow me and we lay her down on the couch. She continues to moan as Jason checks her pulse. Her heart rate is up, but no fever. “Vomi”(Vomit) she keeps moaning. I hand Denise a bucket and she encourages her to throw up but nothing happens. Still panicked, Denise continues to alternate between crying and praying.

“She was fine last night and all through the night.” Denise tells us between her tears. “She just woke up like this.”

I make a mental list of her symptoms. Limpness, nausea, slightly elevated heart rate, and an unwillingness or inability to open her eyes.

“Maybe she’s having a nightmare?” I turn to Jason and he nods. “Let’s try to distract her and calm her down.” I motion to Jayden who is sitting wide eyed on the tile floor and instruct him to get a few stuffed animals from his room. He meekly obeys. “Grab a lollipop out of the cupboard,” I tell Jason, but neither the toy nor candy make any impact on the moaning, limp child.   

“Eske ou vle sote lopital avec li?” (Do you want to go to the hospital with her?) I ask Denise and she nods. Grabbing water bottles, a couple granola bars, a towel and a bucket, I ready the car.  Jason recommends Canopy Verte Hospital and shows me a quick map of where it’s located before leaving for the airport. I have been there twice before for blood tests during my pregnancy but navigation was never my strong point and my internal gps now feels like it’s covered in 7 months worth of cobwebs.  

Praying to God to help us find it, I navigate the still quiet streets. On the way, Jocemine starts to retch and pulling over I quickly hand Denise the towel and bucket. A half an hour later we reach our destination without a single wrong turn and pull into the deserted parking lot.  Inside we are told by the man at a desk that there are no doctors to help us.

“What? This is one of the main hospitals in Port au Prince and you don’t have any doctors?” I question. 

“No, sorry,” he replies. 

I shake my head. What now?  

“I know a little clinic in Pettionville that I went to with Nicholas 5 years ago,” Denise pipes up. “Maybe it’s still there.” 

“Do you know how to get there?” 

“No but we can ask.” 

“Okay.” I respond, silently praying we won’t get hopelessly lost.  

Stopping several times for directions we finally reach what looks like a pharmacy. We walk through a narrow hallway into an already full waiting room. “Clinic opens at 8:00,” a man says, holding a small child. It’s 7:55, so we find a spot to sit.

“I need to go home to Justin.” I now tell Denise. Our first visitor of this term, Nadia, had just arrived the afternoon before and is babysitting the two boys at home. Since I didn’t have any formula to leave with her, I can’t stay away too long. Denise nods, and I discreetly hand her some US cash. Once she has what she thinks is enough, I instruct her to call me for pickup when she’s done. 

“I can take a tap tap home,” she tells me. “Or you can call me for pickup!” I smile and she nods.

Back at home, I anxiously wait with my phone in my pocket. It never rings. At 12:30 there’s a knock on the gate. Denise and Jocemine are back. Looking out the window I watch as Jocemine walks up the stairs by herself. Once in the courtyard she quickly helps herself to crackers and water. 

“At the first clinic the Doctor had no idea what was wrong, so he sent me to another Doctor.” Denise tells me. “The second Doctor said she was probably anemic, and gave me anti nausea pills and a prescription for some vitamins with iron.”

I’m pretty sure you don’t wake up one morning anemic,” I reply, “But she’s looking better now!” I squeeze Jocemine’s hand and she smiles.

Back inside, I wipe the sweat from my forehead as I get back to work.  The single fan in the playroom does little to cool my constantly sweating body, the water’s still not running and we’re still waiting for groceries, but my outlook has changed.

“Minor―all minor,” I tell myself, “It really all just boils down to your perspective. Jocemine is alive and well! Thank God!”

The End of Term 1 - The Beginning of Term 2

Monday, July 30

Port au Prince, Haiti

7:30 a.m.

I peer through smudged glasses at my laptop screen and reach back to rub my aching neck. Even at this early hour the Lasko fan at my feet is already blowing warm, humid air my way. Although I have a long list of work to do to settle back in our Haiti home, first things first; our out of date blog desperately needs some updating!

(two weeks ago)

Monday, July 16,

Chilliwack, BC

3:45 a.m.

“Mom, Mom.” Jayden is awake and standing beside the bed. A cool breeze blows through the screened windows and I can vaguely detect a fresh farm smell. Turning over I check the time; 3:45 a.m.. The alarm was set for 4:00 a.m. but a little extra time to get ready never hurt so I carefully ease out of bed. No need to wake up Jason yet and Justin, in the pack and play beside our bed, might as well sleep a little longer too. Reaching for Jayden’s hand in the dark I get him comfortable on the couch and then head to the bathroom.

At 4:30 a.m. all our bags are loaded in a pickup truck and I give the house a final sweep. Pausing at the doorway I silently bid goodbye to the little home that God had provided for us these past two months. No time for nostalgia now, I slip in the back seat beside Justin’s car seat. Reaching over I squeeze Jayden’s hand. Normally very talkative at any time of day or night he says nothing now. “I love you Jayden.” I whisper in the darkness. “I love you Mom.” He whispers back.

At the airport we say our final goodbye’s to Jason’s Dad and then we’re on our own. Check in and security checks go smoothly and before we know it we’re up in the air. Leaning past Jayden I catch my final glimpses of Canada before we’re swallowed up by the clouds. Goodbye Canada.

9:30 p.m. Ft. Lauderdale

Our airplane touches down smoothly and taxis to the tarmac. Not even five minutes later the sky above explodes with an onslaught of wind and rain. We make it inside the airport okay, but our baggage doesn’t. Two hours later we’re still waiting for the storm to pass so our suitcases can be unloaded. I find a spot on the floor against a wall where I do my best to keep Jayden and Justin entertained. When the flashing light goes on saying our baggage is on its way the crowd of stragglers still waiting lets out a cheer.

When Jason collects our suitcases he only finds 3 of the 6. When he asks at baggage claim they tell him the other 3 are still in Chicago where we boarded our connecting flight. They won’t arrive for several more hours so we take what we have and catch the airport shuttle to our hotel. In the hotel the two boys quickly fall into an exhausted slumber.

Jason and I spend the next few hours unpacking and trying to dry out our drenched suitcases with a blow dryer. Too exhausted to be upset, both of us just laugh and get to work. Having spent almost all our time together these past five months we’ve become a great team. “I love you Jay!” I whisper so as not to wake the sleeping boys.  He smiles. “I love you too.”

July 24, Ft. Lauderdale

I stare down at Jayden fast asleep on the dirty airport sidewalk. Using a backpack as a pillow he really has this homeless thing down pat.

After a beautiful, albeit short time of rest and relaxation, it’s time to hit the road running again. The next few days are sole devoted to planning, organizing, purchasing and packaging everything we need for our second term in Haiti.

July 28, Port au Prince

3:45 p.m.

I peer past the Haitian man sitting beside me to catch my first glimpses of Haiti from above. There it is. Transfixed I watch the landscape beneath me. Unable to describe the mix of emotions I feel inside, I just sit and stare.

5:45 p.m.

“Do you remember where we turn?” I look at Jayden and he peers importantly out of the window. “This way.” He points left and I nod; he still remembers. 20 seconds later we’re at our gate. Anoud rolls it open with a big grin. “N’ap tan ou!” (We were waiting for you!) He exclaims joyfully. Denise runs down the steps to hug me and then leans down to check out our latest addition. “Bonju Justin!” She reaches for his hand. He watches her with his big blue eyes before flashing her a toothless grin.

Inside I walk through the familiar hallways and rooms. Everything is just as neat and clean as we left it. Plopping down on our own bed I lean back for a moment and close my eyes. It’s sure good to be home.

Hours later after unpacking only the bare necessities, making a quick grocery run, and getting the kids settled I stare out the window at the setting sun.

Unable to form the words my heart fills with praise to God for his care and protection over us these last seven months. All glory and honour belong to Him.  

Even the Wind and the Waves Obey Him

Gale force winds race through the Okanogan Valley sweeping land and sky with angry fingers. Waves buckle, trees groan and clouds hurry by unable to withstand its furious force. 

Struggling to regain my balance I search for cover under a nearby overhang. Reaching in my pocket for my camera I do my best to capture the glory of the storm; the mix of golden rays mingled with the powerful rushing of the wind and waves.

Only 30 minutes earlier we had been relaxing by the pool, enjoying an idyllic afternoon near the shores of Osoyoos Lake. 

When the wind began to pick up, we had quickly packed up and made the short walk back to the townhouse friends of ours had so generously let us use; we were hardly inside before the storm was upon us. 

Watching it now, I marvel at the power of it. 

The mix of wind and waves brings to mind the story recorded in the gospels where Jesus calms the storm. In Mark 4:41 the disciples asked each other “What manner of man is this, that even the wind and the sea obey him?” We know the answer. He is Jesus, the Son of God, more powerful than any storm. 

Hours later when both kids are sound asleep, the adults sit up on the balcony enjoying more of God`s beautiful creation. The wind has died down now but the water and sky is still turbulent. The brilliant setting sun, and the sporadic flashes of lightning reflecting on water and sky is breathtaking. Once again I pull out my camera and do my best to capture the beauty.

A lone kayaker, paddles by rocking up and down in the turbulent water. The same one I had photographed the night before when the sunset was more placid. 

“That looks like fun,” Jason remarks, just as the kayaker flips his boat. “Well maybe not.” We watch as he pops back up and vainly tries to flip his kayak. From a distance it looks like he`s wearing a life jacket so we’re not too concerned yet. The man struggles longer and I get up. The waves muffle the sound but it sounds like he may be calling for help. 

“We should go Jay.” Almost simultaneously we jump up and hit the stairs running. Stopping only long enough to grab life jackets we make a beeline for the canoe. The neighbours several doors down must have had the same thought and we meet them now at the canoe. Jason and Joe jump into the canoe now, but with too much momentum. The canoe flips and it takes several moments now to flip it back and empty the water. 

The calls for help are more desperate now and the tip of the kayak is barely visible. With all their might Jason and Joe paddle as fast as they can to the drowning man. I watch from the shore, willing them to go faster. Nearing the man Jason launches himself out of the canoe while Joe steadies it. The man tries to grab at him, but Jason won`t let him. Talking to him all the while, the man finally calms down enough to follow directions and grasps the back of the canoe.  Once he has a good grip Joe fights the current to paddle back to shore as Jason swims beside. 

Lightning continues to zigzag across the sky as the canoe reaches the shore. Sobbing and shaking the man admits he had been drinking. Angry and upset after a fight with his wife he had taken his beer and loaded up the kayak in the hopes of drowning his sorrow. What he hadn`t counted on was the possibility of drowning himself.  With no life jacket in a stormy lake it was only God`s grace he made it out alive. 

With thankful hearts we watch as Joe brings the still shaking man to the shore. Jesus, who was so powerful that the wind and waves obeyed Him, in His providence chose to save this man`s life. 

As the sun disappears behind the horizon, the men talk to the survivor about God’s mercy. As the sky darkens I silently pray that this calling may have an eternal impact on his soul.

Alberta - Land of Open Skies

The wind whispers through the trees and for a moment I look up. From my vantage point by the open window I watch the vibrant green leaves dancing in sync, their tiny bodies moving to and fro to a timeless melody. 

Shifting my attention back to my laptop, I gather my thoughts and begin to type. This tour of  Alberta marks our final deputation trip and just like all the others, it has flown by.

Thursday morning began bright and early and after a nine and a half hour drive we finally reached, Banff, Alberta. Deciding to take a break from traveling we spent the following day exploring the town,

and taking a drive up to Morain Lake.

On the lake we launched our rubber dingy and enjoyed the incredible view of the surrounding mountains.

Being the only ones on the lake we soaked in the silence which was only broken by the occasional chatter from Jayden and the distant roar of avalanches thundering down the mountains.

Hours later we deflated our little boat and hiked up the trails.

The lake from above was beautiful too.

Back on the road again we passed more beautiful moutains.

Every now and then we would stop for a break and admire God`s handy work.

By Saturday we were in Calgary preparing for our presentation there. Monday morning we hit the road again this time headed for Lethbridge.

Crossing the prairies we couldn't but help admire Alberta's ever changing, breathtaking skies.

Arriving at the farmhouse where we'd be spending the next few days, we explored the premises.

Jayden soon got the hang of the motorized gator.

The farm was  a little boy's dream come true with calves to feed, quads to drive, and miles of wide open spaces.

After busy days of visiting friends and supporters we enjoyed nothing more than to watch the glorious sunsets over the rolling prairies.

Each one another beautiful ending to a beautiful day.

Surgery

“Mom, I want the green one.” I lay the smaller, yellow hospital gown back on the bed and reach for the larger, green striped one instead. “Okay, Jay.” I help him get changed and then hand him his special blanket. 

“Can I kuffle with you now, Mom?” Big blue eyes look up at me questioningly and my eyes tear slightly. ‘Kuffle’ is his special word for cuddle and today I might just need it as much as him. Pulling him close I wrap my arms around him and gently kiss his head. This year marks several big milestones in his life which include; a brand new baby brother, his fifth birthday, first visit to the dentist, and today his first surgery. 

Shortly after birth Jayden developed an umbilical hernia and today is the day the Surgeon’s hope to fix it. Since they sometimes close on their own, our family Doctor recommended waiting till Jayden was 5 to get it fixed. Now that his 5th birthday has come and gone, surgery is scheduled for today. 

“Are you ready Jayden?” The kind, elderly nurse Pat, completes the final checks and he nods bravely.

She then takes us to the family room where Jayden can play for a few minutes while the Doctor and Anesthesiologist talk to us. “Which one of you would like to be with Jayden when we put him under?” they question. Jason quickly volunteers and I’m secretly relieved. Although I want to be there for him, I’d rather not watch my boy be medicated into unconsciousness. 

A nurse comes a few minutes later with a hospital gown for Jason to wear over his clothes, surgical hat and shoe protectors. Things happen quickly after that and I hardly have time to squeeze Jayden’s hand and whisper ‘I love you’ before he’s whisked awake. Trying to control my anxiety, I lift him up in prayer to God. 

On the drive to hospital this morning we sang the song, ‘He’s got the whole world in His hands’ and put each one of our names in the lyrics. These last few nights I’ve been struggling with anxiety, something which manifests itself with painful, sensitive teeth in the morning due to grinding, and the song served as a gentle reminder that no matter how much I love him, Jayden belongs to God and not to me. 

Closing my eyes I take this time to cast my cares on Him. 

What feels like hours later, a sober faced nurse steps into the waiting area and calls out, “Parents of Jayden?” I leave Justin with a friendly hospital volunteer since babies aren’t allowed in recovery and together with Jason follow the nurse down a maze of hallways. She doesn’t say anything and we look at each other worriedly. “This is a little scary isn’t it?” Jason turns to look at me and I nod, unable to speak. 

When I spot Jayden’s small form lying on a child sized hospital bed through the open doors of the recovery room, I breathe a sigh of relief. Still groggy he manages to give me a reassuring smile, and my heart melts. Blinking back tears I squeeze his hand, all the while silently thanking God that His mercies are new every morning.