Forgive me for not posting in a few weeks. My days have been short and packed lately!

Over the past couple weeks, I’ve had the privilege of joining several different teams in several different serving opportunities. “Miscellaneous” tends to sum up a large portion of my daily responsibilities anyway, but the past few weeks have been even more so that way. I’ve spent as many nights in Port Au Prince at our guesthouse with teams as I have in my own room in Titanyen.

Some of the highlights have been going to church and the beach with good friends, water truck and elder visits with Team Texas and Hosanna Lutheran youth group, VBS at a Christian school in Petionville with Woodridge youth group, visiting an orphanage I’d never been to before with a team who spoiled me and brought me Twix bars, another round of VBS and orphanage visits with a mother/daughter team, taptap foosball, dance parties, and a hundred other moments I can’t fit into this run-on sentence. In between those things, I’ve still been visiting elders and attempting to stay on top of all the open projects I’m involved in. The past couple weeks have been a lot, but they have been so, so good!

It has been good to see Haiti with fresh eyes again. Watching others experience life here for the first time humbles me. Watching children and teenagers willingly wash strangers’ feet, hearing teams debrief the things they have seen, reuniting with leaders who come back over and over again, and fielding messages from people who want to serve more and donate more reminds me of when Haiti first grabbed my heart.

Now when I serve with a team, I don’t feel like I’m visiting strangers. I finally know a little of the language, enough to connect. Team members throw a million questions at me, and while I seldom know the answers, sometimes I do and I’m happy to have them ask me. Children on the street in Cite Soleil know my name, and while it isn’t about me, I love nothing more than when I know one of their names too. I certainly know their faces.

Each team also reminds me of all the people with whom I have traveled on short term missions trips. And all the people who have spoken into my life in many diverse and beautiful ways throughout my life. I am who I am today because of Jesus and all the people who invested their time and faith in my life.

“Remember your leaders, who spoke the word of God to you. Consider the outcome of their way of life and imitate their faith.” Hebrews 13:7

Two weeks in Minnesota summer may have made me soft… it is HOT in Haiti! After spending some time with family and friends and attending our annual summer tradition of family camp, I am back in Haiti, back among my other set of family and friends, happy to be here, sad to not be there.

One of the last things I did in Haiti the morning before leaving for my Minnesota trip was to go visit one of our elders who we thought was in her last hours of life. Vertilia’s daughter, looking exhausted and uncomfortable, held her in her lap, propped up on a thin mattress on the concrete floor. Every visit for months has seemed like the last. Her breathing was shallow, her body was stiff, and I hadn’t seen her awake in weeks.

She passed away last night. So my first visit this morning was to the same family, this time without their dear Vertilia. I was mostly along for the ride, accompanying Vania, the woman who keeps our eldercare program running every day. She talked to the grown ups. I played with the kids. There was a mix of sadness and relief to all of it. I anticipate a day in the future when I get to really visit with Vertilia, in heaven, when we aren’t encumbered by age, poverty, confusion, and language.

My day started out heavy, but I also had wonderful moments of reconnecting with some of the elders and many of my coworkers. I didn’t realize how much I have missed the kids who live here at Grace Village and others throughout Titanyen I know from church or because they have grandparents in the elder program. So, my first day back has been peppered with hugs and giggles that are truly good for the soul.

It is easy to feel overwhelmed by the tasks I’ve been trusted to undertake. Today, I started out exhausted still from yesterday’s travel, but leaned into the truth that it is God who works here, and He is the one who I am trusting with my efforts, feeble as they may be.

We purchased Vertilia a dress to be buried in about four months ago. She wanted to see it, wanted to know she had something beautiful for her own funeral. Vania did the shopping and picked a light blue lacy, frilly dress, complete with white gloves, fit for a princess or possibly an 80’s themed prom night. But it is God who clothes her today.

So I am yet again in the unfortunate, but all too familiar now, pattern of being on lockdown. There is unrest in Haiti that complicates and even stops daily activities, and the protesters are out in force right now. Please pray for the Haitian people! Pray for resolution and peace only God can provide. This cycle is wearisome to me, but I can only begin to understand the frustration of my friends who have lived their entire lives here.

But this post isn’t about that.

I wanted to share a couple of the miracles I’ve seen this week. First of all, we had an incredible Celebrate Recovery conference last Monday night! We had over 100 people in attendance. Deb Runge led the training, and brought both Haitian and American guests with her to share information and testimonies about addiction recovery. Four Haiti Teen Challenge grads gave their recovery testimonies, and Deb answered questions from the conference attendees about the Celebrate Recovery program.

We would like to see this ministry grow at Grace Church in Titanyen, and we are hopefully watching as God brings together the right leadership and willing individuals to make this happen.

For now, the community, especially our EKS group, is very excited! Their feedback revolved around, yes the delicious treats we bought from Fleri Resto, but mostly their joy in having invited friends who actually came to the conference. Education and resources are extremely limited in the area where I live, and our conference offered a signed certificate for attendance, but more than that, a window into hope of life beyond addiction.

The other miracle that has been in the works for months but suddenly came together this past week was a shelter that was built for one of our elders. When I asked Vania, my Haitian coworker, about this elder, she said, “She loves Jesus very much.” And it is the truth.

I love this woman’s ability to bless the teams who come to serve her. She knows all kinds of worship songs, offers words of gratitude and encouragement to team members, and pieces together English phrases to make others feel more at ease. She asks for prayers for her children and grandchildren, while a complicated living situation leaves her out in the cold… er hot yard most of the time.

Well, now she has her own place! We need to get her some paint and a bed, but she is rightfully proud of the structure she can now call home. And I am blessed by the staff who built it for her!

Beautiful things are happening in Haiti, and I am honored to be here. Hard things are happening too. All of our teams for this week were cancelled due to the protests in Port Au Prince, and I feel for all the individuals who had their plans change so suddenly, along with all the ministry opportunities that feel lost in that shuffle. We continue to trust that God will work all things together for good.

In that line of thought, I wrote a quick song today. If you promise not to judge my rough voice memo recording too harshly, you can hear that here: https://soundcloud.com/katie-venzke/god-of-hope

I’m contemplating two different concepts this morning, so let me see if I can communicate them together in a way that makes sense.

First, God sees all the things I see but from a much bigger perspective: fuller, wholistic, and not entirely Katie-focused. Life and circumstances are complicated. Living in a different culture than I grew up in has me daily noticing things that do not make sense. Like a father willingly trying to give his child to an orphanage because he wants her to go to school, not batting an eye to discuss this in front of her. A logical choice, apparently.

How many times has someone tried to explain something to me with “well, in Haiti, it’s different.”? Voodoo influences, centuries of mistreatment from international forces, unwritten folklore and codes of conduct, expectations of family, expectations of foreigners, and even implied etiquette in traffic baffle the mind of this outsider.

But it’s also led me to question what is familiar and unquestioned in my own life and culture. Because I also accept a lot of things that don’t actually make sense with a dismissive, “well, in America…”. “In my family.” “In my world.” Fill in your own bias.

Comfort. That is the second concept on my mind and one of the things I miss most from home. Not that there aren’t comfortable things and moments in Haiti. But I miss the comfort of easy access shopping at Target. I miss the comfort of being an anonymous customer, wandering a mall or sitting in a movie theater. I miss temperature-controlled spaces and paved roads and over-sized chairs and drive through coffee chains and salon appointments.

American culture values comfort. I notice our obsession with it when I visit home now. And not only for ourselves, but for others. We want to make sure those around us are comfortable. We avoid uncomfortable conversations, we make sure guests have enough to eat and a comfortable seat and are never bored for a moment. If we have an uncomfortable experience while traveling or at an event or restaurant, be sure, someone will be getting our direct feedback!

I’ve been reading David Platt’s book Radical, and he cautions the American church against redefining Christianity to fit our American ideals. On page 13, he writes, “We are giving in to the dangerous temptation to take the Jesus of the Bible and twist him into a version of Jesus we are more comfortable with.” Comfort isn’t bad, but making sure our journey of faith is comfortable, that is a dangerous slippery slope!

Haiti is uncomfortable. It’s hot. Everyday. Everything takes a long time. You will have to wait. To get anywhere, people pile on motorcycles and into trucks without seatbelts, tripling or quadrupling the maximum passenger capacity. Daily food isn’t an assumption for many. Clean water and electricity are luxuries. WiFi and a cell phone with minutes are too.

Granted people want and pursue comfort in Haiti, but in my observation, it isn’t the top priority. The Haitian people instead display patience and fortitude in a way that is questionably un-American.

And as I sat waiting for a church event last week, one of our elder’s granddaughters came and sat with me, begging to play with the camera on my phone. Since the event, in typical Haitian fashion, was delayed by almost an hour, we had nothing but time and a wooden bench to spend it on. I gladly complied.

Later, as I scrolled through and deleted hundreds of her carefully selected shots, including about 25 of my feet and 100 of the usher standing near the end of our row, I was struck by how different the church looked in her photos. Her perspective, from the same bench but a little lower, is so different from mine, that the building itself looks bigger.

And I was reminded that God’s perspective, thankfully, is different from mine. He wants to hear my perspective, but He also knows how limited it is, how much there is that I can’t see yet. So even when nothing around me makes sense, I trust His promises, I trust His guidance, I trust His perspective far above my own.

“In his heart a man plans his course, but the Lord determines his steps.” Proverbs 16:9

Days around here are sometimes hectic, sometimes quiet, but never two alike. Always peppered with the unexpected; there is no way to expect the sorts of things that come up.

I’ve gotten used to somethings that once felt like a big deal. Things like walking down rocky paths past pigs, goats, and roosters to get to church. Things like greeting each person you see, whether or not you know them. Things like not understanding most of what people say around and to you. These things feel like home now.

Something I didn’t expect was how quickly, freely and deeply I could love so many people. It seems, logically, that the more people you love, the less love you have for each one. But I’ve broken off bits of my heart all over Titanyen and Cite Soleil, and my heart is not less complete. It’s expanded. This is how I know it is God’s love within me and not my own mustering of feeling.

Earlier today, a woman I am friends with placed my hand on her pregnant belly. Her story is hard and sad and beautiful and confusing, full of faith and questionable choices. She already cares for five children on her own and she is HIV positive. So when I heard she was expecting another child, excitement for her want my first response.

But as I sat in the chair next to her with my hand on her belly, at first there was no movement at all and then a very definite kick! And I nearly immediately thought, “Great, now there’s another person I care about!”

So even if my heart is growing like the Grinch’s, my resources are still limited. I don’t have the capacity to give enough time and attention to each one that I love here. I feel torn with a lot of the pieces of my heart here in Haiti and a lot still in the states.

So announcement time for anyone who’s read this far… I have decided to stay on another year working with the eldercare program here with Healing Haiti. However, I’ve decided I also need more time for my stateside friends and family, so in 2020, I will be living in Haiti about 2/3 time, visiting the states more frequently and for longer stretches.

I’m so grateful to everyone who supports me in prayer as each day presents its list of “things Katie doesn’t know how to respond to”. 😂 Because I really don’t know what to do so many times! But God is faithful and his love has no bounds.

“Love must be sincere. Hate what is evil; cling to what is good. Be devoted to one another in brotherly love. Honor one another above yourselves. Never be lacking in zeal, but keep your spiritual fervor, serving the Lord. Be joyful in hope, patient in affliction, faithful in prayer. Share with God’s people who are in need. Practice hospitality.” Romans 12:9-13

I’ve always been drawn to issues of social justice. We did a Strengths Finder training last week, and my #2 strength is empathy. That could explain more than a few things about my life, but it is probably the part of my personality most drawn to service work.

Living in Haiti has exposed me to stories of injustice that are absolutely harrowing. I could fill my blog with shock-value examples, but the shock wears off after a while. And while shock elicits response, it doesn’t necessarily produce change.

The reality is that I haven’t been able to get to some of the elders lately because of violence in their neighborhood. The reality is that Haiti is a country with more barriers than solutions and sometimes, my empathetic heart has to look away because I’m not able to bring the solutions that are needed.

So I focus on the small moments of worship in an elder’s yard or home, intimate moments where I can hold one of their grandchildren or exchange a broken Creole greeting.

I had the privilege of growing up in church and hearing countless missionaries preach and share their stories. But, my actual introduction to missionary life wasn’t like the stories. I didn’t go out blindly into a community to build relationships and preach the gospel.

I was essentially handed a list of names, 48 elders in two communities I was to be somehow responsible for. And I was handed a small church group and told that I was there to support their mission.

I was given a bed in an apartment above a clinic on a compound where I’d live with a few other American volunteers, a handful of Haitian staff, and about 45 Haitian children and teenagers. And I’d be expected to know a lot of things that I just don’t know.

I didn’t really choose who my people would be, who I would spend time with, or whom I was going to be ministering to. It all came with the assignment.

And it has been challenging and wonderful. Those assigned relationships and tasks have been divinely arranged. I love my people. I love my job.

And all the unassigned friendships I’ve stumbled upon have been a blessed bonus. The Lord continues to bring people (and a kitty 😉) into my life just when I need them.

1 Peter 1:8-9 “Though you have not seen him, you love him; and even though you do not see him now, you believe in him and are filled with an inexpressible and glorious joy, for you are receiving the goal of your faith, the salvation of your souls.”

I spent the morning delivering photographs to about half of the elders in our program. Today was just me and a translator, wandering Titanyen trying to remember how to get to each house and asking for directions often. I am sunburnt, and my legs are jelly from all the walking and climbing. It was such a fun day!

When you give someone a photograph in Haiti, they are unlikely to shrug, say thanks and move on. The experience is more like this: lots of laughter. Gasping and close studying, rattling on in Creole much faster than I can keep up with. Sometimes hugging or kissing the images. Definitely hugging and kissing me. Often calling friends or neighbors over to see, if they haven’t invited themselves already. Polite and impolite banter. Gratitude.

The week before I left for a Minnesota visit, one elder in Cite Soleil asked me for a picture of himself and a picture of me. A little embarrassed, but honored that my friendship was important to him, I decided to comply. I decided to print out a picture of myself for each of the elders, along with the pictures I printed of them.

This has led to the humbling experience of having Haitians openly critiquing my photos, but mostly it has led to wonderful interactions with the people I love. One dear man told me today that I bring him great joy and that he prays for me as he sleeps at night. Others I haven’t been able to interact with as much, asked me not to forget them and to visit more. So far, each one has received me into their home with no reservation, eager to wit with me for a moment.

A few of the elders have cell phones. Most probably have access to a mirror, though I haven’t seen many. Most probably have a few photographs. Still, it isn’t a given that you’ll get the chance to take a good look at yourself every day. A current photograph isn’t easy to acquire in Haiti, which is why I print them via Amazon or Walgreens when I’m in the states and bring them back. It is a gift I am happy to give. And I am thankful to the elder team who took some wonderful updated and silly photos when they were here last month.

I’ve been thinking about the significance of images this week, and it was one theme we touched on in the Bible study I attend this past week. If Jesus was the image of God, and we are all made in the image of God, there is something Holy we see when we see images of ourselves. There is something Holy we see in each other, something we recognize, the image of God.

^“The Son is the image of the invisible God, the firstborn over all creation. For in him all things were created: things in heaven and on earth, visible and invisible, whether thrones or powers or rulers or authorities; all things have been created through him and for him.” Colossians 2:15-16

Meghan Trainor and I have a special connection. I’m sure she feels it too. 😉 I’m not a fan of all pop songs, but I’ve never listened to a Meghan song I didn’t like.

That being said, I’ve had the song “My Name is No” stuck in my head for a couple weeks now. Because that song is the soundtrack of my life most days. I say No. A lot.

One unfortunate part of the relationship that exists between Haiti and the rest of the world is that locals tend to look at outsiders as a link to wealth and resources. Patterns throughout Haitian history feeds into the idea that foreigners have hand-outs and money unaccessible without those foreigners.

I signed a giving contract with my organization where I commit to not giving out personal funds. It might be a bigger temptation if I had a lot of money, but I can usually tell people I don’t have that without bending the truth. That fact doesn’t stop people from asking.

So, will I buy you a new phone? No. Cord for your old phone? No. Food for the children in your neighborhood? No. Will I give you the dog I’m walking? No. Will I give you a dollar? No. Chocolate? No. Concrete blocks for your house? No. Pay to care for your aunt’s orphaned baby? No. Your mom told you to make that bracelet and bring it to church to sell to the American for $10 so you could go to school? No.

Somedays it feels dismissive to constantly say no. Somedays it wears me down to the point of exhaustion. But, my name has become no. And I can say, “You’ve gotta let it go!” But, I also understand. If the situation were reversed, I would ask too. I’d ask again too. I’d probably ask every foreigner I saw just in case.

So, it feels really good when I am able to say yes. When the requests come from within our structure and organizational capacity to meet needs, I will do what I can to make that yes happen.

But at the end of the day, I am no one’s provider. Everything I have and am is my Father’s. And He listens to each request. His answers are sometimes unclear, but his name is not No. His name is Love.

And love is the thing I can give without violating any contract. I can acknowledge, respect, and value the people around me. And God can grant me the patience and love to say no.

1 John 4:8b “God is love.”

 

Daylight Savings always seems to be a difficult adjustment, even though it is only one hour, even though it’s simply going back to where we were a few months ago, even though a little more coffee takes the edge off. But it is especially confusing when you live in Haiti, where they sometimes follow Daylight Savings, sometimes they don’t, and most commonly, they do, but they don’t expect anyone to know about it and plan for everything to start late for a couple weeks…

Which brings us to last night’s EKS meeting, that only four people (including me and my translator) showed up to, when there is usually 12-15 in attendance. Without a leader or a plan, I suggested a short prayer and that we share with each other our favorite scripture passages and why they were important to us. This is an exercise I have observed a few times in Haiti now, and I love that no one hesitates. Beloved scriptures are always right in the forefront of memory and eager to be shared.

I was especially impressed by one woman who handed her Creole Bible over to the translator to read Psalm 46. As he read, she recited the words out loud with him in Creole and I read along silently in English.

“1 God is our refuge and strength, an ever-present help in trouble. 2 Therefore we will not fear, though the earth give way and the mountains fall into the heart of the sea, 3though its waters roar and foam and the mountains quake with their surging. 4 There is a river whose streams make glad the city of God, the holy place where the Most High dwells. 5 God is within her, she will not fall; God will help her at break of day. 6 Nations are in uproar, kingdoms fall; he lifts his voice, the earth melts. 7 The LORD Almighty is with us; the God of Jacob is our fortress. 8 Come and see what the LORD has done, the desolations he has brought on the earth. 9 He makes wars cease to the ends of the earth. He breaks the bow and shatters the spear; he burns the shields with fire. 10 He says, “Be still, and know that I am God; I will be exalted among the nations, I will be exalted in the earth.” 11 The LORD Almighty is with us; the God of Jacob is our fortress.”

She explained how these words are important to her, to remember that God is her refuge and safe place. Not only does this chapter from Psalms perfectly represent the faith of the Haitian people, who have witnessed more than their share of quaking mountains and roaring waters, it represented something so personal to her. The words she recited were from her memory and her heart, and the Bible she proudly carries, she does not know how to read. But the words are written on her heart in something deeper than language.

We went from zero to a hundred in no time at all! After the tedious quiet of being on lockdown for two weeks, I hit the ground running last week with the elder advisor team. Now since Sunday I have been coasting back into a more normal Haitian highway speed, which at times takes your breath away, and is accompanied by frequent sudden stops.

But, last week was amazing! I was so blessed by the team who came to serve our elders and was welcomed in as a member of their team. I told the team leaders repeatedly that we wouldn’t know what to expect and there was a very real possibility that we would end up stranded at the guesthouse, our carefully planned agenda completely dismissed. After tempering our expectations, we took on our full itinerary one day at a time. And, my expectations were definitely exceeded!

We spent three days serving our elders in Titanyen and two days serving those in Cite Soleil. This included home visits, physical (nursing) and psycho/social assessments, craft time, Bible study, physical therapy, housing assessments, and LOTS of worship time.

We spent most of the week split up into smaller teams and assessment stations. Two pre-med students on the team were able to shadow our doctors for partial days. We were able to visit each home-bound elder and have multiple social gatherings with larger groups of elders. One of our dear elders is nearing the end of her life, and we were able to spend some sweet time together with our entire team with her in her home.

I will keep this blog short on details and include lots of photos. 🙂 Continue to pray for Haiti. We have gone back to “normal” life for the time being, and we will continue to minister and serve as we have the capacity to do so. For the most part, the news reports don’t match up with what life is really like in Haiti right now. Roads are clear, schools and businesses are open, and people are going about their daily lives. We will embrace the peace while we have it and pray for the hearts, policies, and realities that are currently governing Haiti.

1 Samuel 2:8 “He raises the poor from the dust and lifts the needy from the ash heap; he seats them with princes and has them inherit a throne of honor.”