Thorns & Roses

Our Internet service has been down for 2 days so sorry for the long delay…. 

Wednesday – by Steve Haigh.  Every night the team circles up some chairs to unpack the day.   As a way to do this, Ron and Joe ask us to share a “rose” (good thing) and a “thorn” (troublesome thing).   Today, I’ll share my rose and thorn with you:

Rose:   I had the privilege and honor to sponsor a child right here in Haiti today and meet him.  He is a 7 year old boy named Pierre and, Lord willing, will now be able to go to school next week.   NVM has a wonderful sponsor program that provides food, clothing and healthcare to needy kids plus pays for the child to attend the NVM School right here on property.  Many families can’t afford to buy the uniform, black shoes, books and book bag required.



 I met with the principal, Alexandre, to find out which boys still needed sponsors and which were the most needy.    He said his assistant principal, Judith, knows all the families and he would talk with her.  After lunch, I stopped by the school again and met with Judith and Alex who told me about Pierre.   His family lives in Despinos, about 3 miles (?) from NVM and cannot afford school.  Judith said they would send someone to bring him to the school.  Here in Haiti, we talk about “Haitian time”, which means he might come today, tomorrow, or who knows when.  So I went back to work wondering if I’d meet this boy at all.   About 20 minutes later a messenger found me and said he’s here!  Wow, so much for Haitian time.  Turns out Judith called someone in his village that was able to find him and tell him to come.  I tried to envision the scene there in his village with that neighbor tracking them down, the hurry to find a ride, to put on a good shirt, the excitement about attending school, and to get here in 20 minutes was truly remarkable.    So I ran to the school to meet this little guy.  

He was sitting in the Principals office with his Aunt.    He was very cute, dressed very nicely, and once I smiled at him, he never stopped smiling back.   With Alex translating I asked him if he believed in Jesus – Wi!   Did he want to go to school?  Wi!  Does he have brothers and sisters?   Wi, one younger sister.   Does he like Cool aid?   It took Alex a while to explain that I had brought a can of drink mix as a present for him (it’s all I could scrounge up in my things I brought from US).   Once he figured it out what cool aid was, he began shaking his head up and down – Wi, Wi!!  I gave him the can of cherry cool aid and showed him how to lick his finger, stick it in the sugar, and pop it in his mouth.   His eyes got as a big as saucers with that first taste as he exclaimed, “mmmmm!”   I gave him a hug and prayed with him, asking God’s blessings on his mother and father and little sister and aunt who brought him here.   It was a poignant moment for me and Rob Sadler, my official cameraman and fellow Friday morning men’s group member back in Indianapolis, who documented the encounter.   “Orevwa Steve”, he said as we parted company cradling his can of Cherry Cool Aid.

Thorn:  before dinner, our group walked into Chambrun to visit friends and the children’s home there.  The squalor and abject poverty of the place are startling.   These people live in stick and mud huts, wear flip flops or just go bare footed, and often just wear a shirt and no pants.   There’s dung from donkeys, sheep, goats and whatever else might wander around town everywhere.  Most of the kids are pretty dirty and many were completely naked.   We brought a soccer ball which was an instant hit.   The minute we put the ball on the ground the soccer began in earnest as the boys orchestrated a “futball” game shouting “You, blond!” as they put us into positions.   And let me tell you, these kids can play!  I was assigned goalie and several times caught a ball covered in stuff I cared not to think about too terribly much.



Even in their abject poverty, there was incredible joy on the faces of these kids.   Haitians are extremely communal and social people – they have to be, living in such close proximity.   As we were leaving town, a little boy ran up and said “Blond!” and held my hand, a very common thing for a boy to do.  We exchanged names as we walked by a black voodoo cross not 20 yards from the children’s home.   I motioned to the black cross and said to the boy the only Creole word I could think of that might even quasi describe my thoughts – “Malad”.  Just then, an older man who I didn’t notice before, popped out and waved his finger at the boy, seemingly scolding him. Was he the witch doctor?  I don’t know.  It was eerie, to say the least.     As we neared NVM, we parted company and left me with a joyful “Bye, Steve!”.

Tonight Aaron (on staff here for a year), asked us a great question.  Do the poor know your name?   His scripture reference was Matthew 25:31-46.   Do the poor know your name?   It’s a great question and one that I can now answer, “A few.  Yes, a few”.