One cool thing about having people come visit, is that you can see Haiti with fresh eyes as you listen to them take it all in. When a guest blogger recently described Port au Prince it made me recognize that I no longer see some of the devastation.
My dad commented about Hope shrugging after bumping into the guard with the sawed off shotgun at the place we had lunch. I realized that there are guys in the fast food place with SAWED OFF SHOT GUNS. That is normal to me now.
Also, apparently, it is hot here. Or so my dad keeps saying.
My mom wants to start a ministry to pick up the trash. It really bothers her. She wants to know why someone, anyone, cannot just start picking it up. Valid questions, but ones I don't ponder anymore.
I will allow my mother to guest blog. After all, her language is clean and she knows how to spell. Those are the only prerequisites for the un-missionary blog. Plus, who knows, I might learn more things about the country in which I reside. I WOULD allow my dad to blog, but it would read like this:
Haiti needs some work. Good talking with you.
He is a man of few written words. Don't get me wrong, he has things to say, just not in the written form. Weekly I send him long, heartfelt emails -- just laying it out there --- filled with questions pontificating the greater meaning of things. Here is the reply I get over and over and over again.
Sounds good. Love you.
Last night we watched a video about Ken & Elaine Jacobs, missionaries to the Chamulans in Mexico. It was an awesome story of how two people started working with one man and how that man began a chain of events that led to thousands coming to know Christ in an area heavily controlled by oppressive systems of religion and government. The indigenous people of the area wore furry ponchos and my dad did his own narrating off to the side. While they were sharing their testimonies of faith, dad said "and here I chose to wear my bear suit today. I went with the Polar bear today, I took off the bear head for this interview."
This is the level of maturity displayed by the man who raised me. One commenter recently said she was not accustomed to such irreverent people working on the mission field. Blame him.