Don in storytelling mode at his home.

This is like a love letter to St. Dunstan’s from Deacon Don, with important news embedded in the middle.  It is very bittersweet news.

(He starts with a very short summary of Paul’s first letter to the Thessalonians.)

Yesterday in Pacific Grove, near Asilomar.  A sermon-writing break, turned into a sermon illustration.  The waves were even more dramatic in person, believe it or not.

I am praying for the people of Haiti, that the tropical storm/hurricane does not hit.  

Here is a picture from PaP.  Some parts of town crumbled badly and others seemed mostly fine.  Lots of people living in tents, of course.

I can’t believe that I’ve been back for a full week already.  I took my last malaria pill yesterday.  (By the way, it is true what I heard about them.  They give you very vivid and often strange dreams.  Not quite nightmares, but usually weird.  I’m glad to be done with the pills.)

I seem to have brought a little (microscopic?) friend home in my stomach.  I’m no expert, but something is lingering that is a constant reminder.  I’m taking steps to get my G.I. system right again, but it is poignant to be troubled just enough to be aware that I’m not 100% while I am learning about the tragic outbreak of cholera.  How could I possibly complain.  It almost sounds trite, but it is really dramatic how blessed we are to have a safe and clean environment.  With my recent work with Ethiopia at All Saints-by-the-Sea I learned about the world’s need for clean water.  Now I have a whole new awareness.  I am haunted by the images in my mind of people washing their clothes, and kids washing their bodies, in the streams and rivers of Haiti that brown and muddy from the deforestation, and are grossly polluted as well.

The country has been treated well by the rest of the world recently, but it has a much longer history of the opposite.  When the slaves revolted and gained their freedom, they were forced to pay reparations to the France.  Up until WWII they were paying off the debt, around 90 million Francs.  Scholars estimate the current value at $40 billion, and some are calling for this to be returned.  It is sickening to think that after these former slaves gained their freedom, their former owners demanded they get paid back for the loss of property.  So economically, Haiti remained enslaved for over a century after its founding.  Another detail that very little of the money pledged to Haiti for earthquake relief has actually made it.  I have heard the figure 4%.  I don’t have documentation for this, but even if it’s double that, it’s still very little.  My hope and prayer is that the money will go not to just make Haiti what it was before the earthquake, but will help give the country a fresh start.

There is a very intangible impression that I came home with.  I have hope for Haiti.  I have heard this in others who have been there, too, and I can’t explain it.  But if we all feel it, there must be something to it.  I was ready to leave behind some things by the end of our trip.  I was ready to leave the heat and humidity; I was ready to eat a salad; I was ready to not fear the water coming out of the faucet; I was ready to see my four-year-old daughter and wife!  But after returning, I feeling a surprising sense of longing for that great country, and that rich Afro-caribbean Haitian culture that has a way of embracing visitors like me.  I don’t know when I’ll get to go back, but I am already looking forward to it.

These guys are called “The Brothers United,” and they travel around to local churches in the Episcopal Diocese, but their home church is St. Patrick’s, where we saw them.  They’re a sensation to watch and hear.  I also love the accordion player.

Pre-schoolers at St. Andre’s

This is what St. Andre’s looks and sounds like.  Notice the incense (you have to imagine the fragrance of it!)  Notice the Haitian crucifix on the wall above the altar (designed by a priest in Cange, whom we me later in the trip.)  The service lasted 2 hours, but it felt short, believe it or not.  I was honored to get to be the preacher.

Almost home! (in Miami)

It’s our last day in Hinche.  Spent the day at the school, checking out the feeding program (over 900 kids get fed a nice, hot lunch of bead and rice each day.)  This came from initiatives started by the St. Dunstan’s Haiti Committee which has been very creative in finding ways to make this happen and to find funding.  They now cook up 1 1/2 bags of rice each day (each bag is 110 pounds — Walin showed the storage room full of them to us) and a 1/2 bag of beans.  It’s a smooth operation, feeding so many kids out of a tiny kitchen.  We started the program because Walin told us that kids were fainting in class from hunger.

This afternoon we hung out in the town, bought some music (there’s a whole long story attached to that, but I will save it for another time) and now we’re back at the rectory for dinner.  Lighting is beginning to light up the sky.  It’s nearly dark, and quite beautiful.  The hour of the mosquito!  We’re all reapplying the DEET.  Tomorrow morning we drive to Port-au-Prince.  We’ll see the ruins of the Episcopal Cathedral, and we’ll stay at the famous Oloffson Hotel, where Graham Greene stayed when he was writing The Comedians.  And we’ll meet one of the priests, named Father Ajax.  On the way we’ll also see Paul Farmer’s renowned health care operation called Zanmi Lasanti (http://www.pih.org/pages/haiti/).

The next day we’ll leave early to catch the flight to Miami.  Then to LA, and on to Monterey.

It’s been a good trip, but I am going to be glad to get home to the family, too!