Journey to the Present

After returning from our first short term mission trip to New Orleans in 2008, Christ took priority in our lives.  God changed our hearts in New Orleans.  There we experienced revival that produced a more intimate relationship with the Lord.  Since then, our hearts have been tuned to live out the Gospel in ministries of mercy.  We believe that God is equipping our family for a missional vocation.    

 Over the last two years, we have experienced several life changes that have freed us to follow God’s call.  We have substantially reduced our debt.  Material things have lost their value.  Dawn returned home from a lucrative career in order to serve the family, and is now educating our children from home.  When we made that transition, we listed our home for sale. 

This past September, John went to Haiti and worked with Double Harvest.  Established in 1981, Double Harvest’s primary mission is to increase food production through agricultural enterprises while declaring the truth of the Gospel in both word and deed.  Haiti is the poorest country in the Western Hemisphere.  Less than half of Haitian children attend school, and the average duration of education for those that attend school is 6 years.  About 50% of Haitians are literate.   In Haiti, 80% of the population lives on less than $2 per day.  On the 200-acre Double Harvest farm, over a thousand Haitian people are fed, educated, and offered opportunities to work daily.  You can learn more about Double Harvest at www.doubleharvest.org. 

John returned to the States, and began making plans to return with the family.  Soon after, the Lord revealed a long-term need at Double Harvest that matched John’s God-given talents.  In January, John and Dawn visited Croix des Bouquets to investigate how four other pairs of feet and hands can be used for the Kingdom in Haiti.  We had the opportunity to find out more about the ministries of Double Harvest, and work with Ashley’s Orphans, who partners with existing orphanages to improve the lives of Haitian children.  We’d like to invite you to read more about Ashley’s Orphans on www.ashleysorphans.com. 

We will continue in obedience to travel the path that the Lord clears for us.  At the request of Double Harvest, our next step is an extended visit for the entire family.  During this stay, we will conduct business as usual, learning what life will be like living in Haiti.  Our goal is to confirm that this is where God is leading, as we develop relationships at both Double Harvest and Centre Loving Hands Orphanage.

January 2011 Haiti visit

Bezwen Jezi

Day Four began with another picturesque morning.  John and I stood on the balcony of the clinc with our coffee, unable to take our eyes away from a blanket of pink clouds that dressed the mountaintop.  It is the one year anniversary of the tremblement de terre. 

We made bacon and eggs just before the power went out, so the five of us shared breakfast in the dark.  It seemed appropriate for this place as well as this day.  This is a place with no tight schedules, where the common theme seems to be, “Be patient and keep trying.”  This is a place of grace, and I was reminded of what someone I fell in love with used to whisper in my ear, “Tomorrow is a new day with no mistakes.”

After breakfast, we headed back over to the orphanage in Uncle Nick’s truck.  Nick isn’t afraid to get his truck dirty.  If you’re one of those folks who finds status in driving a big truck that is camouflaged in mud, you should visit Double Harvest and take a ride with a Vanwingerden.  Despite the bumping and flopping around, I managed to stay in the truck, but J.L lost his glasses.

Haiti is a place of bondage as well as freedom.  While these folks were brought here as slaves and continue to live in slavery to their government, they are free to do so many things that would land Americans in the slammer.  I don’t know if I’ll ever get used to these children jumping on our vehicles and riding miles and miles away from home through countless villages that all look the same.  All of the villages have dusty, almost naked babies, skinny cows tied to trees (and I don’t mean ice cream), crumbling block homes, sugar cane, underbrush and a dog.  All the dogs look the same in Haiti.  I’m beginning to wonder if it’s the same one.  If I had one, I’d name him Fruitcake.

These children jump on our moving vehicles.  They’re risking their lives, especially when Nick is driving.  American children have to wear helmets on bicycles and sit in car seats until they’re eight years old.  These kids are standing in the back of our truck, and we’re essentially kidnapping them for the day.  Their mamas have no idea where they are, and I have a feeling they’re not looking.  And of course, the children are not playing hooky from school.  These children don’t go to school.

At the orphanage, the men had poured a good part of the footers for the new school.  When we got there, the Haitians were already buzzing about, anxious to pour and spread the rest of the concrete.  These men were off from work for the day in memorial of the earthquake, and they wanted to donate their time to Ashley’s Orphans.  I ran off to teach Kelvins, Deacons, Jonathan and Makens how to play War.  We played for almost an hour, and somehow Makens was always the winner. 

I could hear a ceremony going on in the church to commemorate the day all Haitian lives were changed.  I was anxious to join them.  Soon, my friend Denise came and invited me to go with her.  L’eglise had a concrete floor and metal grates in the windows instead of stained glass.  Women sat on one side, men on the other.  Denise and I sat with the children.  Some women had brought towels and were lying on the floor with babies.  One woman handed me her baby and asked me to kiss her.

 The people were singing a song apparently called, “Bezwen Jezi” which directly translates, “Need Jesus.”   Haitians don’t sing the way many of us do in American churches.  They sing strong and LOUD.  I was astonished at the intensity of that song among the people.  I sat there numbly, knowing that I don’t understand dependence on Jesus the way they do. 

A pair of precious dark arms was raised in worship in front of me, severely wrinkled from both age and survival.  The worship leader called out, “Meci se Dieu, Meci Jesu, Meci Papa, Meci beaucoup, Meci, Meci, Meci…..”  His list of thank yous was eternal.  I wondered whether people who have so few material things have Bibles.  Could they read them?  It looked to me like the Word was truly written on their hearts.

Soon a new, livelier song broke out and women and children began dancing in the aisles.  Children encouraged me to dance with them.  They had no idea what they were asking.  Just in time, I looked back and there was Stanley waving me to come out of the service.  Stanley, who speaks adequate English, had become my friend from Day One.  In fact, my husband came home from Haiti in September talking about Stanley.  He is a treasure.  When I went outside he said, “I just wanted to make sure we were okay.”  I was shocked to discover that he was offended that I had played games with the other children, and had apparently neglected him.  He said, “I saw you worshipping in the church and I knew you had Jesus, so I knew I could tell you.”  Namaste.  The Spirit in me identifies with the Spirit in you.  I am so thankful to have that Spirit in common with so many brothers and sisters around the world.

Pray for all nations to worship the Creator.  Pray that we can let go of self-reliance and trust in a Sovereign God.

Dawn

What I Learned in School

After morning devotions on Day Three we had a good breakfast.  Franz, who works here at Double Harvest, had brought in bags of fresh bananas, mangos, and tangerines as well as a huge watermelon. Haiti does fruit well.  If you haven’t been to a Haiti, you are missing fresh fruit. 

We headed back over to the orphanage.  When we got out of our vehicle, I stood amazed at the work that the orphans, the Haitian workers, and our three men had accomplished.  Empty trenches previously dug for footers were now full of strips of metal.  These men spent hours under the blistering sun bending countless strings of rebar thicker than my thumb.  They had carefully measured and placed a piece every 8 inches to make this school building outlast another disastrous earthquake.

The current school building, made of three sheet metal walls nailed to 2x4 stud poles, is open on the side where construction is occurring.  From where I was standing, I could see groups of uniformed children sitting in an area about 600 square feet.  They sat on long wooden benches with a narrow table attached.  I was curious to see what these children could be learning with Bobcats and Cement Mixers rolling only feet away.  I walked in and sat down in Monsieur Francso Olivier’s class.  He was teaching Grammar on a wooden chalkboard, and had the attention of all of his students.  There were three other classes going on under that small tin roof.  Francso called his students to the board one by one.  They had beautiful handwriting.  When Francso called upon a student to dictate to the others, he transferred his textbook from one student to the next.  One of the orphan toddlers walked into the classroom barefooted and wearing only a t-shirt.  Jesula, a 15 year-old orphan, delivered “Nahnah” to the arms of the house mother, who was busy caring for another crying baby.

I then visited Benitha’s classroom.  Benitha has the charge of educating the preschool-kindergarten group.  Her little cherubs were shuffling their feet in the stones as they chanted a phonics lesson.  They were following along in a reader titled “I Can Read” in Kreyol.  I couldn’t believe how effective Benitha was in such undesirable teaching circumstances – conditions that would have sent any American teacher packing long ago.  Benitha has no union to call.  A chicken strolled into the classroom as I was on my way out.

It was Benitha’s classroom where I fell in love with Savanika (pronounced “SaVAHNeeka).  Very quiet, unassuming and unpretentious, her humility stole my heart.  I felt spiritual wholeness with this child on my lap, her innocent and trusting face resting softly on my chest.  Savanika is a poverty orphan.  Her mother is a widow and is financially unable to care for her and her older sister Cassalinda.  It was in Savanika’s beautiful brown eyes that I recognized Jesus.  If you found Jesus in these conditions, could you walk away?  Something clicked.

I want to spend more time at the orphanage, to be involved with these children, not just sending money or clothing, but developing relationships.  I want to know what their needs are physically, emotionally, financially and spiritually.  I began to wonder if one of these classrooms that we’re building together will someday be mine.  Or if I will invite a foster child into our home as the Spaldings have done several times.

Dr. J.L. Williams is staying with us this week at Double Harvest.  He is the Director of Center for World Missions and has served in more countries than anyone I’ve ever met.  Over dinner on Monday night he mentioned that projects are not the focal point of mission work.  He encouraged all of us to focus on relationships.  God used J.L to put into words what the Lord was doing in my heart, and to prepare me for Day Three, when I would go back to school in Haiti .  God so loved that world that he gave his only Son to die, restoring the broken relationship between us and Him.  Relationships are important to God, and projects are often the tools that get us to relationships.  Ashley’s Orphan’s school building project has led to a relationship with not just Savanika, but with Stanley, Jonathan, Peter, Benitha, Denise, Kelvins, Deacons, Francso and many more.

The Proverbs 31 woman had her arms open to the poor and her hands extended to the needy.  I have a feeling she wasn’t just giving them stuff.  I can imagine her with Savanika sitting on her lap and both of them smiling. 

After school, I had the pleasure of presenting the orphans with friendship bracelets made by some of Ashley’s friends from Glasgow and Stone’s Throw churches.  The girls have been hand-making bracelets for several months and selling them to support Ashley’s Orphans.  They made 27 bracelets specifically for the orphans at Centre Loving Hands.  I wrapped a bracelet around the wrist of each child and showed them a photo of the girls that prepared them.  They were fascinated as much with the photo as they were with the bracelets.  They asked me to name each girl, and when I was finished, they asked me to go through their names again, and again, and again.  And I have to admit, those girls are pretty fascinating.

I don’t know if Jake and Wendy have had the opportunity to show the orphans who has inspired all of us to defend the cause of the fatherless.  I’d like to be there when they do. I hope to be there when they dedicate the school and the orphanage.  I want to see the pearly white smiles of the children as they gaze in wonder at Ashley’s lovely features and hear the name that moved the VanWingerdens to begin this remarkable mission.  And I want to be there when they speak the Name that stirred Ashley to be the person that she was here with us, and is today with Jesus.

Pray for Ashley’s Orphans and Centre Loving Hands.  They need resources, relationships and love.  Pray for safety for the orphans, the Haitians workers, and Americans who are serving God with hands and feet building the new school.  Pray for wisdom for the Longs as we continue to seek God’s direction.  Pray for the VanWingerden family as they continue to long for Ashley, whose love for orphans spurs the rest of us on to love and good deeds.

Dawn

Dressed Like Lilies

At the end of Day One in Haiti, I was completely overwhelmed.  Haiti is breathtaking, but shockingly unfamiliar.  I confided in John at bedtime that although I feel secure leaving Double Harvest with the men that are here, I don’t know if I will be comfortable and trusting enough to go off-site by myself or with our children.  I was having trouble imagining how our kids could still be kids in Haiti.

John and I wake to the deep, strong voice of the Double Harvest guard, whose singing carries the sun into the sky each morning.  Despite the fact that the power doesn’t come on until 6:00am, we were up and out to morning devotions on Day Two at 6:40am.  Haiti power is unreliable, so Double Harvest runs a generator that powers up at 6:00am.  This generator is turned off at 9:00pm each night.  (So you have to flush the toilet before then.)

Morning devotions are led by a Haitian that the on-site missionary pastor has trained.  He spoke in Kreyol, and I was sitting too far away from the missionary to hear his interpreting.  I did understand that he was talking about the anniversary of the earthquake coming.  He said that people are wondering if they’ll always have food and water, and people are wondering if another earthquake will come.  But Jesus says in John 14, “Do not let your hearts be troubled.  I am going to prepare a place for you.”  I imagined how Haitians must anticipate Heaven.  Most Americans don’t think about Heaven so much because we can’t imagine Hell.

After devotions I bade farewell to the guys and they drove off in the mule to the orphanage.  I had made an appointment to visit the missionary pastor’s wife.  Art and Becky Spalding raised five children in Haiti.  Becky is a no-frills kind of girl who loves Haiti and Facebook.  I spent two and a half hours drilling her about school and sports and food and peers and animals and internet and safety and bugs.  Becky was invaluable.  As unsocial as I am, I threw my arms around her and blinked away the tears as I stepped out onto her porch.  I walked down her tree-lined stoney drive with a sense of hope. 

I would have spent all day with Becky, but I had to get back to camp to prepare lunch for the soldiers.  I had only been back a few minutes when there was a knock on the door.  A gentleman introduced himself as working with an organization called Nehemiah’s Vision.  He wanted permission to give his group a tour of the guest quarters.  When the group came up, they had very little to do with observing our digs, but it became obvious to me why they were there.  Jesus said, “Do not worry about your life, what you will eat or drink; or about your body, what you will wear.  See how the lilies of the field grow.  Not even Solomon in all his splendor was dressed like one of these.  Will God not much more clothe you, O you of little faith?  Your Heavenly Father knows what you need” (Matt. 6).  God sent these folks to deliver exactly what I needed.  Instead of looking at our quarters, out of the blue, Aaron and Jay began to tell me that they had recently moved to Haiti to work as missionaries with their children.  They live right down the street with a 15 year-old girl, two boys, 12 and 10, and a 5 year-old.  AND THEY’RE LIVING IN A TENT.  Twelve year-old Jeremiah talked my ear off while I stood wishing that Marshall was there to take him off my hands.  American woman and children live dressed like the lilies in Haiti.

After lunch I had another opportunity to visit Centre Loving Hands.  While the guys were busy bending rebar for the new school building, I did a craft project with the children.  Wendy had asked me to have the children make hand prints for their American sponsors.  Now I’m not great with a group of kids.  Engaging more than 2 kids at a time is a challenge for me.  These children came out of the woodwork to get paint all over their hands.  I had a huge crowd of kids standing around me all shouting, “Wouj!” “Bleu!” and “Zorang!”  The challenge for me was getting my buddy Peter to write their names and a number that corresponded with the photos that I was taking.  Needless to say, by number 20, we were completely out of control, but each little pickle walked away with a candy cane and a smile.  AND, I got my photos.  They’re just a bit out of order – mwen regret, Wendy!

Before I left the orphanage, I watched children, some without shoes, some without parents, carrying 2x4s and rebar for their new school.  I was compelled to drop my stuff and join them.  It was then that I realized that my worries and fears had turned into that old familiar knot in my chest.  It was the tightness that I feel as I’m leaving the darkness of poverty behind me and heading for my almost perfect life.  It was the feeling that drives me to ask my husband with tears in my eyes, “So, now what?” 

Please pray for the orphans.  Pray that pure and faultless religion will lead us to give them love, and faith, and opportunities as well as material things.  Pray for the Longs as we hurt and labor over the question, “What now?”

Dawn

Poverty

Our first day in Haiti was extremely busy.  We arrived in Port au Prince at about 12:00pm and spent about an hour getting through Customs.  Jake had a driver waiting to escort us to Double Harvest.  Haitians were insistent about helping us with our baggage, literally chasing us out to our car.  We waved them off and repeatedly yelled, “Non!  Kompete!” in futile attempts to get them to stop.  This is their vocation.

Our car was driven by a man named Isaac.  He took us on a tour of the city.  Isaac has five daughters ages 7 to 15 that he has been raising as a single father since the earthquake.

I was changed by what I saw of the city.  It is another world in another time period.  Buildings in ruins, continuing to crumble.  Women and children walking with loaded baskets on their heads.  Boney dogs and goats (and pigs) roaming the streets, and cats chained on the sidewalks.  Bumpy and dusty streets full of cars zig- zagging in all directions, and the only law seems to be “every man for himself.”

Double Harvest seemed to be in a world of its own.  Only a few miles from the city, it is an eternity away down dirt roads that are barely passable.  Surrounded by a stunning mountain range, Double Harvest feels like home.  Life here is simple, but fulfilling.  There is warmth here that feels much more satisfying than the 80 degree temperatures - the compassionate people, the beautiful farmlands and the sense that God’s Kingdom is coming to earth right here in Croix de Bouquet.  Lives are being changed at Double Harvest, including my own.

Soon after we dropped our baggage in the upstairs of the medical clinic where we’re staying, we jumped on a Gator and began navigating some of the surrounding villages.  Children jumped on the vehicle as we zoomed past, plopping down next to us as if they had hailed a cab.  One boy, Jonathan, recognized Jake and practically climbed on his lap.  I’ll never forget his smile as he stroked Jake’s hair and repeated the word “friend.”  He worked to refine his English as he yelled at Jake to go “faahster!”

 A friendly fellow named Luxon escorted us to Centre Loving Hands, the orphanage that is being supported by Ashley’s Orphans.  It’s difficult to communicate how that place gripped my heart.  God’s treasures, with big brown eyes and soft, velvety skin, had smiles that I could still see when I turned the lights out last night.  They treated me like a long-lost friend.  In less than an hour, Jonathan and I were “z’amis.”  I spent most of my time “talking” to the children, realizing that with their limited knowledge of English and my limited knowledge of French, we could get by.  A smile and a hug go a long way.

A savvy young orphan named Stanley showed me around the orphanage.  Although I had seen photos of their living quarters, I was not prepared for the reality of the size of their bedrooms.  The “school” was really a 3-sided structure with a few desks and a chalkboard.  “School” for them is not really a place, it’s in their hearts.  An average of two out of three children that I met from the villages do not attend school and cannot write their names. 

In the United States, we cannot fathom the lifestyle of these people.  As we drove back through the villages, I was captivated by dusty block huts, naked toddlers and older children with no shirts or underwear, bumpy and dusty dirt roads, starving farm animals, and joy.  Most people were busy outside of their homes and genuinely smiled and waved as we passed.  We saw a church that was constructed out of old outhouse doors.  Instead of a view of stained glass windows, these people worship joyfully with a view of a 50 portable johns nailed together.  I began to grasp how little these people depend on material things.  They don’t have material things or opportunities, so they have to depend on the Lord.  Their lifestyle is such that they’ve never been able to put their faith in themselves the way we so often do, so they have to trust the Lord.   I suddenly realized who was really living in poverty.  Our spiritual poverty may be more significant than their material poverty.

Pray for Haiti.  Pray for the suffering that continues here after the tragic earthquake.  Pray for relief from poverty for Haitians and Americans.  And pray for Kingdom come, that we’ll see a broken world restored - my brokenness, your brokenness, and the brokenness of our brothers and sisters in Haiti and around the world.

Dawn