Daring to be honest

Sunday night--its always a bittersweet time of the last remains of a weekend mixed with needing to prepare for the busy week ahead. I have a class lecture to prepare, an outline to write in creole (oh help), and a clinic day planned in the morning, but I'd rather watch a movie and snuggle with my husband. Is that so wrong?

We were guests today at the church of the president of the national consortium of protestant churches that CONASPEH is a member of, and who meets regularly with government officials to solicit help for the protestant church. The pastor is a kind and humble man who Patrick and I like so much. HIs church was lively, full of music, and the congregation warm and welcoming. Patrick gave, in my opinion, his best sermon of his time here.

Patrick has been struggling with where his own theology meets that of the conservative churches he serves. He has been humbled and at times deeply depressed as he searches for a way to be true to himself, to be of service to the people here, yet to work for healing in churches who have been greatly influenced by theology that fails to honor, respect and build up the people of Haiti and their rich cultural heritage. Although from an observer's perspective he's been doing a beautiful job, his own personal honesty has been his biggest challenge, and he struggles to feel right in his own skin in a role he isn't completely comfortable with.

But today Patrick spoke humbly, honestly. "I want to tell you about my faith. And I hope one day you tell me about yours." He spoke of his vision of God, of his understanding of the message of Jesus, of his own reasons for coming to Haiti, and his hope that the people of Haiti could work together using the strength of their faith to build a more beautiful and bountiful world to live in. And instead of trying to use the language of the conservative church to usher in more broad ideas, he used his own words. He described his own understanding. And more than ever, the people understood. "Amens" resounded. The people welcomed him. I'm so proud of the man I married.

After church, we were invited to Pastor Milfort's house along with a group of the church members. He lives on a beautiful property that used to be an active sports center. He has a pool, a gym full of weights, two tennis courts and a full sized basketball court. We sat in the shade of an enormous mango tree and visited. We were told that this used to be a very active community sports center, but since the most recent of instabilities, activity has died off. The pastor and his wife shared dreams of breathing life back into such an incredible space. One of the men scaled a 20 foot coconut tree and tossed down a dozen coconuts. He then used a giant machete to crack open the tops. We were passed a coconut and encouraged to drink the sweet water within. Today I had coconut water for the first time, and it was delicious.

Patrick played basketball with some of the young men there, and then engaged in a lively game of tennis. His first short-lived match was with a young man who hadn't had much experience with a racket, much to the amusement of the group of men sitting in the shade spectating. Patrick would volley a well-placed hit, only to have his new friend send the ball flying high in return. Laughter erupted as did light-hearted gibes. Pastor Miflort removed his tie and took the place of the inexperienced youth. He clearly has played some tennis, and he and Patrick worked up a bit of a sweat volleying the ball across the court to each other. So I sat and talked to the pastors wife while sipping on coconut water watching a lively tennis match. What a happy moment.

I had a moment of disturbance when suddenly another game erupted near-by of "kick the mouse." A little fat mouse had wandered into the clearing, and a couple of boys started playing soccer with this tiny living thing. You can call me a freak animal lover, but I just couldn't stand it. After watching for a moment horrified at this tiny little animal flying through the air, trying to flee for its life looking dazed, only to be launched by another foot brought me close to nausea. And then, I dared to be honest today to. I asked the boys to stop, and reminded them that God made the mouse too (in my best pastor's wife impression). They looked a little taken aback, probably completely confused as to why I looked green and horrified and was defending the life of an animal that is normally considered a pest. But the boys respected my request and actually ushered the dizzy and terrified little mouse under a bush. Yes I eat meat. Yes I swat mosquitos. But I believe life should be respected, never tortured. And likely i'll be the joke at some dinner table of the mouse-loving blan, but I'm ok with that.

Otherwise, we spent a lovely afternoon sharing time and laughter at the pastor's house. We dreamed up new projects of bringing the youth of the church and the CONASPEH school to his sports complex, organizing games and other youth activities. The pastor's generosity and hospitality gave us a beautiful moment with new friends and dreams of more great afternoons there to come.

Now, back at the guest house, I'm happy because I just was able to Skype my Grandma. How I miss her spunk and her beautiful face. Earlier I was able to talk to mom and dad a bit after a long time of our skype connection not working well. Loved seeing my father's ornery grin and watching my mother react, head tossed back in laughter to stories and tales told. My heart feels more peaceful with a peek at the faces I adore so much.

It has just started to rain. Raindrops dance on pavement, sending sounds of wet pitter patter through in our window. Already, the air smells fresh and clean. I think I'll wander outside a bit and enjoy the gift the clouds above give to the dry earth. The rain promises a night of deep sleep lulled by the sound of a storm, and an extra beautiful morning to wake up to. Something to look forward to. Bon nwit.