AVOIDING REGRETS

Built to shelter several hundred worshipers and sporting both a balcony in the rear and a wall-to-wall choir loft above the pulpit, this church building is atypical for Haiti. 

Although I drive past it quite often, this was my first time inside ... and it was a sad occasion: Pastor Joza's funeral. 

An entire battalion of young ushers (in blue shirts in the photo above) were deployed throughout the building to keep order. They kept the main aisle clear but the balcony and stairs and the rear of the sanctuary held a bustling crowd of mourners, shoulder-to-sweaty-shoulder, that spilled onto the sidewalks around the building. It was a three and a half hour service that witnessed, at best, perhaps 30 minutes total time unpunctuated by wails erupting from the anguished crowd. Now and then, four or five ushers would physically carry a thrashing, hysterical woman through the crowd to an exit.

Like all funerals, this was quite a sad affair, but I discovered the secret to making it even worse for myself: regret. 

Joza was a sweet man and one of several pastors on the church's staff. I first met him two years ago when he was a student in my adult English class. Now and then, after the conclusion of class, Pastor Joza would approach me and invite me to come to his church "some Sunday". I, of course, replied, "I would love to." The next year, when he moved on to Level 3 English, he still sometimes poked his head in the door to gently repeat his invitation. 

But there was never a "convenient time" for us to visit his church and "some Sunday" never came. Which is why the irony of my first visit being the funeral really got to me.

Nobody seems to know any specifics about how he died, only that he went to the hospital one evening and was dead two hours later. He was 46. 

James 4:14b: "What is your life? You are a mist that appears for a little while and then vanishes."

Regrets can either fester and depress or they can propel us forward with new resolution. So a few hours after returning home from the funeral, when I got a phone call from Wesly, my response was quite different than what it otherwise might have been.

Wesly is another of my former English students. Over the last few months he has sought me out in person, online and over the phone to ask if I would be willing to visit an English program he has created with two friends, meeting on Saturdays a few miles from here where one would turn from Route 1 to head to Plaine du Nord. 

I confess ... I had told him each time that yes, I would be glad to come - "some Saturday". 

So when this latest phone call came, I was primed to give him a definite "Yes, I would be glad to come ... TOMORROW." I had no idea what to expect - if I was observing or teaching, how many people were involved or exactly where to go. Although short on specifics, I was able to talk Caleb into tagging along. He's usually up for a little adventure.

Wesly called me twice on Saturday morning, making sure I was serious! He met us at the Total gas station and guided us to the largely empty campus of a grade school where he and two friends conduct English classes for interested folks in the community each weekend. 

Classroom selfie. That's my little buddy Wesly in purple.

It was a hoot! Caleb and I were both ended up outside of our comfort zones. I was nudged out of that zone but Caleb was dragged out - and performed well under pressure. About fifteen minutes into my ad-lib of a very basic introductory English lesson with Caleb observing, one of Wesly's friends popped in and pulled Caleb upstairs to a more advanced class ... to teach! Caleb rose to the challenge and we didn't see each other again for the next two hours except in passing as we flip-flopped classes.

I was impressed by the drive of Wesly and his two friends. They have started these English classes for next-to-free, but they are counting on word of mouth to build to the point where they can start charging fees to "put a little money in our pockets". 

They call it "A Sunny World English School".

I like their school's slogan at the bottom of the sign ... but I don't quite understand it. ;-)

They wondered if both I and Caleb could come back every week. I told them I was certain that would not be possible, but we'd be more than happy to make a return trip in the near future. And I fully intend to keep my word.

Saturday turned out a much better day than Friday...

SPRING BREAK WEEK

Cowman usually enjoys an early spring break because OMS Haiti tends to choose the week of Mardi Gras as the best time for our annual missionary staff retreat.

My family was excited to be going to the Dominican Republic for a few days and especially excited to have Pastor Phil Dicks from Grundy Center, Iowa join us as our retreat leader for the teens. The week most definitely would not have been the same without him - he is the life of the party everywhere he goes. You'll notice that most of my pictures from the week include him in one way or another.

He arrived early, so we put him to work planning some special music for our last chapel at Cowman before the break. Here he is pulling the team of Cowman staff and students together:

And they all did a great job - in the matching neon shirts Phil provided for them! We can always count on Phil to bring a lot of enthusiasm and JOY to a chapel service.

Phil also brought a "cajon" - a type of box drum you sit on to play. Here's Hannah taking a turn at percussion during a rousing rendition of "Love the Lord Your God with All Your Heart".

Early Saturday morning, a group of 32 of us boarded a bus bound for the Dominican border. It was a very classy bus. Phil had trouble looking out his window without undue distraction.

After two hours on Haitian roads, an hour at the border and another three hours into the Dominican, we arrived at Sosua by the Sea. A beautiful spot to relax, regroup and reconnect with the Lord.

Because of a scheduling mix up, our retreat leaders (some friends from Florida) and the childcare workers they brought with them were only with us for the first 24 hours of the retreat. The adults talked through some group dynamics issues and competed in a photo scavenger hunt:

While the little ones got to do some games and crafts:

Our teenagers, on the other hand, spent the three days trying to keep up with Pastor Phil.

The adults had plenty of time to relax and enjoy each other's company around the pool.

I got a little father/daughter time after breakfast one beautiful morning:

Pastor Phil kept the teens fueled up on candy and ice cream.

Here's Caleb expending a little extra sugar energy on the beach, trying to perfect his hand stand.

We enjoyed some time of worship together, led by Phil and the teens.

And some karaoke, which sometimes garnered less than stellar reviews from some of the other hotel guests - although Phil always knocked them dead with "Dream the Impossible Dream". Here's Jeff Love, Phil and I performing "Rawhide".

We always appreciate having a few days of meals cooked by someone else and dishes washed by someone else. It gives us time to focus on conversation and laughs. 

On our third and final day, Melissa took Hannah and Sarah to Santiago for orthodontist appointments and shopping (2 and a half hours each direction!) while Phil graciously invited me to join him on a little local adventure - a morning of deep sea fishing. 

Even if I had known ahead of time that we'd be spending four hours on 10 foot swells and that my stomach would be threatening to turn inside out the whole while (and for several hours afterwards), even so I would have gone, because I'm not one to pass up spending time with Phil. 

It was just the two of us, two Swedes and a New Yorker plus the captain and his two shipmates on this rather smallish boat. As soon as we stepped on board, the captain says in a thick but understandable accent, "Upstairs you'll find some life jackets in case this boat goes *BLOOOP*. You never know when a boat will go *BLOOOP* - the Titanic was supposed to be unsinkable and it went *BLOOOP*!" 

About an hour away from land, the wind kicked up, waves crashed over the side of the boat as we went up one side and down the next and I was seriously wishing the captain had gone into a bit more detail about what to do in case the boat went *BLOOOP*. One of the Swedes and the New Yorker lost their breakfasts, but I kept my composure - through sheer will power.

Phil, on the other hand, chatted up one of the crew like the boat was moored to a dock and perfectly still. I was impressed.

Unsurprisingly with such winds and waves, the fishing was on the meager side: the only catch of the day was a mahi mahi that one of the Swedes got the privilege to reel in. Phil taught me some important fishing lessons: 1) how to pose with a fish and pretend you caught it and 2) how to hold it closer to the camera so that it looks twice as big as it actually was. 

In the end, I decided I preferred admiring the ocean from this vantage point on land. What a gorgeous place!

With some gorgeous people...

There's no therapy quite like beach therapy...

A couple of folks were missing for our traditional end-of-retreat group photo, but this is most of us...

It's back to the real world tomorrow morning when school resumes, but I think the kids, Melissa and I are all feeling rested and ready to continue ministry at Cowman, intent to finish the school year strong... to follow the Lord's leading ... 

to dream the impossible dream!