A small feast

Day 5

“The sights of the city are still numbing but I think I’m getting more accustomed to them. It still shocks me when I open the door and the smell hits me. I'm reminded it’s not a dream ...

we are still in Haiti.”

Isaiah 41:17

"The poore and needy search for water, but there is none; their tongues are parched with thirst. But I the Lord will answer them; I the God of Israel, will not forsake them."

Isaiah 41:13

For I am the Lord, your God, who takes hold of your right hand and says to you, Do not fear; I will help you.

One of the missions and passions of Love Haiti Mission is to feed the children of Haiti. Every day that week Love Haiti purchased food for the children, and the mommas prepared it while we were at VBS. Handing out crafts is one thing, handing out food is all together another, so we were not there for that.

Lamentations 3:32-33

Though he brings grief, he will show compassion, so great is his unfailing love. For he does not willingly bring affliction or grief to the children of men.

Wednesday, Gregg took us to see how the food for the children was prepared at a nearby home. We walked maybe half a mile down a dirt road, tip toeing around puddles of who knows what. As we walked down the road children played, people worked, goats ate on piles of left over burnt trash. Some of the Haitians went in and brought back others to see what must have looked like an American parade of white people. They all looked, pointed, smiled, and chatted about us, just as we did them, except we had cameras.

As we traveled to the home, Greg explained the reason we had to walk so far was so the towns’ people wouldn’t smell the food or know we were giving food away. After the mommas cooked the food they would pack it in a cooler to hide the smell and bring it to the church. Monday when they gave out food 2 fights broke out over food. Just a reminder of how people act during desperate times.

Luke 18:27

And he said, The things which are impossible with men are possible with God.

When we get to the little concrete home the preacher knocks on a metal gate, says something in creel, then we enter, walking through a sheet covered doorway. I was one of the first to walk in the small dark little home. I didn’t take the time to notice the surroundings, but I remember thinking it looked surprisingly like a home.

(On the last day of VBS we stayed while the construction team finished up. We were able to see the kids receive lunch. Some of us helped hand out the plates of food and gather the plates, licked clean, from the children that were finished eating. Empty plates and silverware collected were reused and handed back out to the children waiting patiently for food. )

I Thessalonians 5:16-18

Be joyful always; pray continually; give thanks in all circumstances, for this is God's will for you in Christ Jesus.

(This is my little sweet one. She held my hand most of the week. Never spoke a word. Every now and then she would look up at me with those big brown eyes and smile a big sweet smile. She reminded me of me. I would have taken her home if I could.)

The mommas were so sweet and welcoming. There were about 5 of them, greeting us with hugs and smiles, all with the look of total pleasure that we had come to visit. They must have cleaned for days making the home spotless and it was. Through a short maze, we ended our journey on a small concrete patio the size of my closet. In the middle of the patio was a log rock fire with a large pot of rice and beans cooking, beside it a pot with just beans, another with rice and a bucket with beans soaking. A table by the door had all of the other preparations on it. Those mommas were so excited about us coming; they had every step of the process sat out for us to see. They must have scurried around for hours making everything perfect. Their kindness and generosity was humbling.

Luke 22:27

For who is greater, the one who is at the table or the one who serves? It is not the one who is at the table. But I am among you as aone who serves.

We stayed only a few minutes then headed back. When we arrived back at the VBS tent, all of the children were seated on the benches, listening to our translator telling a story out of a coloring book she found in our craft suitcase. Every one of them was seated like little angles with both eyes on her. She was perfect. She told the story with excitement and humor. After she told the story she told the boys one of them had to come up front and tell the story from memory. It was the cutest thing. A boy came up, told the story with the exact enthusiasm as our translator. They all clapped and it was a girl’s turn. I’m not sure what all was said but some of the girls stood and clapped and the boys laughed. One of the translators must have seen the confused looks on our faces because he leaned over and told us, because none of the girls wanted to tell the story, the girls had to stand and give the boys a round of applause. As I watch this process continue, the translator telling a story from a coloring book, followed by one boy and then one girl coming to the front to repeat the story, I was amazed. These children had never been to school but were engulfing this opportunity, well behaved, obedient, and loving it. Children in America would have had a million complaints, and parents probably would complain that the teacher embarrassed their child.