That Little Splinter
December 11, 2010

I’ve posted several short videos of my time in Haiti, with all of them simply showing some of the things I experienced. Like helping paint a school. Visiting a jungle market. “Suffering” on one of the most beautiful beaches I’ve ever seen. Visiting a nursing home. A sampling of lovely Haitian singing. But until now I just haven’t wanted to wade through my Port au Prince footage.

You’re probably tired of hearing of my trip to Haiti, but this one little part has been holding me back from really continuing with other non-related posts. It just seemed so trite to post my thoughts on what I feel is wrong or right with religion, or what’s hard in my life, when issues of survival plague much of the rest of the world.

And especially since beautiful, precious people just a short flight away are gasping for life amidst a sea of destruction, poverty, and preventable disease. It’s just hard to continue life as usual with my petty philosophical complaints. At least I have a relatively safe, comfortable home in which to ponder such things, and basic resources that make it possible for me to spend time on things other than survival, and technology that keeps me in touch with the rest of the world.

But anyway, I’ve finally managed to put something together that sort of communicates the frustration I still feel with the whole Haitian situation. The sadness, confusion, and anger I felt when returning back to the states. And this video says it far more concisely than I could in text. Enjoy…  (You’ll have to click “Watch on YouTube” because of copyright issues, but it’ll play.)

One of the reasons this issue has held me back in recent months is because my footage from Port au Prince was quite different than the other footage. Port was our welcome sign to Haiti. It was the very first punch in the gut that sent my soul spinning, and it’s been spinning until now.

You see, my time in the remote jungle was in some barely perceptible way (and I say this carefully) cushioned by certain things. Even though the people of the remote parts of Haiti have even less materially in many ways than those in the big city of Port au Prince — at least Port has electricity, for instance, and stores and such, while the villages have absolutely none of that — I experienced an element of friendship that I developed with the locals and the wonderful missionary couple who care so deeply for the people. I was able to share in the joys of language-inhibited conversation, when universal nonverbal messages, like smiles, are perfectly understood. So there was that social element that helped me sink into the life there instead of just reflecting on it.

And then there was the scenery of the jungle. Even though nearly all wildlife is extinct in Haiti, at least there were pretty trees and green mountains to appreciate. They helped soften the hardness of the life there. Seeing people hand-plow a meadow surrounded by banana trees , flanked by a river and guarded by mountains, gave me some sort of relative peace.

But there are no trees in Port au Prince. Not many anyway. There are no emerald mountains or plantations. Almost all have been raped and everything is brown. Or gray. Mostly gray because of the cement everywhere. Crumbled cement. Dust. And smoke from burning trash. Diesel smoke from trucks and bulldozers with their near-futile attempts at cleaning up debris. Gray with spots of blue and white all over the place. The tents. And except for the neon colors of brightly painted walls (the ones that are still standing), which reflect the still-vibrant spirit of indestructible Haitian culture, everything else is gray or brown.

And so it has taken me months to gain the distance I needed to approach my scant Port au Prince footage with some semblance of objectivity. I believe my emotions still come across in the video I created, but believe me, what’s there is FAR more tame than the thoughts I would have expressed earlier.

With that in mind, I hope you’ll forgive me for posting yet another reflection on my time in Haiti. I just had to detour once more from my usual postings to address what has been a splinter under my existential fingernail. I’ve just not had the emotional or intellectual capacity to post on other things, so that’s one reason why my posts have been sparse in recent months. Thank you for understanding.

And if you would, please take a brief pause to send positive vibes toward our brothers and sisters in Haiti. They could use it right now.

In Today’s News…
April 28, 2010

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“…How does God choose? Whose prayers does he refuse?…”

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Why do we say, “God answered our prayers” when results favor us, and that “Evil attacked us” when they don’t?

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What happens…

When two of us on opposing teams pray to win the same game. When two of us on opposing political sides pray for God to solve the nation’s problems, or for our candidate to win. When two of us on different sides of the ocean pray for God to keep us safe from our enemies, or give us victory over them. When two of us pray for God to bring justice, when each of us have differing definitions of that word.

Or when two of us pray for forgiveness. When two of us stop praying, get off our offended asses, and go say we’re sorry. When two of us step down from our soapboxes, look at each other in the eyes, and listen to their story. When two of us see the other as a hurting, scared person and not an agenda, a philosophical position, a religion, a political party, a team, a lifestyle, a socioeconomic segment, or a target market. When two of us stop praying — or protesting — for world peace and start making it happen, beginning with those right across from us. When two of us…  You fill in the blank. (Then start trying to live it.)