From Haiti to Hospital

This past Sunday I found myself in the mountains of Aux Cadet Haiti in a tin roof building that resembled a chicken house more then a church. A small group of adults and students sweated, sung, and enjoyed a Sunday service together as our team of 12 learned from and experienced the beauty of this Haitian village. The rest of the day included bouncing along on rocky dirt roads, exploring primitive School houses, playing round after round of duck duck goose, smiling, laughing, and enjoying a perfect cross cultural day.

As we rolled into our host home for the evening my cell phone was turned on for the nightly round of updating text to families back in the states. But much to my surprise my phone light up with messages, missed phone calls, voicemails and the overwhelming sense that something big was happening back home.

Something big to MY FAMILY!

Over the previous days we had heard of the horrible child slavery issues for Rastevak children, we had visited Cholera clinics were epidemic sickness was battled for those who were carried (literally) over mountains (also a literal statement), where many would die due to lack of access to appropriate treatment, we assisted a community in building a water cistern in the attempt to provide a clean water source, and was generally exposed to the horrors of systemic poverty.

The only thing separating this life from being my life was that I happened to be born to a middle class, majority family in a nation where opportunities flourished.

The only difference was birth, a difference I had absolutely no control over.

It was with these vivid lessons in my mind as I talked to Mom across an ocean hearing that my father was en route to receive a treatment considered rare even for the most privileged in the world. My dad was being given a rare chance for a renewed life, a renewed life in a world that many never receive a descent first one to begin with.

As my emotions whirled from excited to guilt to anxiety to elation my cell whirled text and calls to parents, support staff, airline companies and family.

Due to the nature and potential volatility of our trip the choice was made for me to stay in Haiti until our students were out of all potential harm. My flight home was set for Tuesday at 3pm.

As our team returned to our host home for their last night of debriefing and packing I raced down the Haitian mountainside and through the energetic streets of a third world country. We whizzed by trucks overflowing with packed pedestrians, others with goats, past motorcycles, dump trucks and a world of faces in between. My driver was a master of the mountain and made a trip that should have taken 2 hours in just over one. As I gathered my bags to check in for my flight I said thank you both to him and to God for my safe arrive to the airport.

A quick flight up the Atlantic to Miami, a not so quick drive up the coast of Florida with a uncle who graciously picked me up (thank you again Rodney, ps it was great seeing you again) and I found myself stepping into the halls of a place I had heard of many times, thanked God for in my prayers and knew was now playing a special role in the story of my family, Mayo Clinic.

As my dusty hiking pack plopped to the floor family members throw loving arms around my neck. Jen walked me back to see my dad, who was now the proud and thankful protector of a new set of lungs and lease on life.

Dad looked amazing, well as amazing as one can after having body parts exchanged.

As he snored loud and long, something I asked if they forgot to fix while swapping out lungs, his nurse gentle stirred him a wake.

His eyes gentle opened and as they recognized his son before him grew wide and wet. We hugged, laughed, shared silly stories and simply marveled at the rare and precious gift our family had been given.

Today has been a sweet day. Uncle Ron and Aunt Connie helped to finalize housing for dad’s recovery, which is something we’re trusting God to help provide the resources for.  Jen, Pearl and I enjoyed our reunion by laughing and telling stories. Mom loved holding Zi, and Dad shared more stories about God’s amazing provision and chased hallucinations of bugs around the room, which is apparently a side effect of his anti-rejection drugs.

Being with family today has made my heart full, very full.

But as I write this I’m reminded that what we have experienced here is rare, very rare. It is not because of our planning, pedigree, our privilege, or us, it simply because of God’s provision and grace. Provision and grace that I don’t understand full why we’ve received so much of and others have not. Provision and grace that we do not what to take for granted or misplace.

Jesus, we don’t understand why you have been so good to us, we can’t rationalize or explain it, but we can simply say thank you for it.