Father Christmas cheered by army of child slaves upon arrival in Haiti’s worst slum.

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On February 9th I had the honor of addressing our meeting of the North Star Santas. My topic was ethics and professional responsibility. I delivered a very serious address about our need, as a group, to guard against pedophiles and report any suspicious activity to law enforcement right away. We have group guidelines, straight from the insurance people, about how we must behave around children. Never be alone with a child, always wear white gloves so your hands are easily spotted in photographs, how to avoid accidental intimate contact, etc.

And then, three days later, I’m up to the top of my head in naked children. Lots of naked children. My headline was not meant in jest – they were slaves (many of them) sent to fetch water from the tanker we’d driven into Cite Soliel.

I was in Haiti on an 8 day mission trip with Healing Haiti.(Click on the link to donate. Please.) Continue reading →

Sheepdog Update. (Part XXLC)

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The Haiti post will appear later today.

I have been laying in bed with my head in the trash can the last 24 hours. But I did have some wonderful hallucinations with the fever and all.  So, Haiti is delayed for a few hours.

But back to the sheepdog – she’s glad to see us. Coming up for snuggles, wagging her tail, making eye contact, being loving and kind. Last night when I first got sick she followed me everywhere, very clearly concerned about me. I cannot tell you how much that meant to me.  Ed remained on the first floor of the house snoozing. I guess he was less concerned.

So the trip to Haiti was a winner in every respect (except the high fever, etc.) My relationship with God grew and I got a bonus dog upgrade. After all, isn’t dog just God spelled backward?

How’s the sheepdog in your life?

I’m back.

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But you didn’t even realize I’d gone, did you?

I returned from an 8 day mission to Haiti with Healing Haiti and KTIS radio.  Over the next few weeks I’ll be sharing my thoughts and observations on mission work, my personal experience, and what Haiti is like.

But first a little about culture shock – and thermal shock. On Monday morning we did our usual early rising/breakfast kind of morning and then headed out into the brilliant Haitian sunshine to make up some bundles for the tent city near our mission house. We loaded small bags (the size of shopping bags at your grocery) with soap, some shirts, lotions, toy cars, shampoo, and all the leftover food the mission team had brought with us to Haiti.

It was around 85 degrees Fahrenheit and I sweat out my shirt before the last bag was packed. We loaded up the goodies — well more on that later. This blog will not become a chronological “and then we went 400 meters down the road and saw a baby goat. Jesus loves baby goats…” kind of thing..

This morning, after 4 hours of sleep I woke up to my dog staring at me. She took our absence well. Both dogs, as a matter of fact. But she still wanted to go out. It was 4 degrees. Do the math.

After stopping at Mickey’s for breakfast I made a couple of quick stops. The stop at Menards told me I was back in Minnesota. I bought 750 pounds of salt. There were ice storms while I was gone and the cleanup by my minion didn’t quite meet standards. So I loaded the car (always fun sweating in the cold) and spread salt for the next hour. It’s ironic that three days ago fresh water was a blessing – not enough of it in Haiti. And Tuesday it was a curse that needed to be removed in its solid form. I’d rather carry buckets of water on my head than bags of salt. The water doesn’t eat through my blue jeans.

But the best part of the day was my visit to Izzy’s Ice Cream shop. On my second day in Haiti I got an email that the rarely produced flavor of ice cream that I love was available for a limited time (yes, they let you sign up for an email notification.) I had despaired that none would be left when I returned.

I got there an hour before they were open for business, but I pretended not to notice the hours when I saw people inside and the door was ajar. Strolling through the door I said, “Now I find out if God really loves me. Are you out of Hot Brown Sugar?  I got the email while I was overseas on a mission trip.”

The clerk, a pleasant young man, clearly wondered if the big doofus in the black coat and beard was a complete nut. But he gamely checked the cooler out front. “I’m sorry, but I’m pretty sure it was all gone by Sunday. That one goes really fast.”

I didn’t even really pout. I had figured that was the deal. And then an angel appeared. A tall blonde woman, clearly a manager, asked where I’d been. I told her we’d been on a mission in Haiti and while the ice cream vanished out the door we’d been in the slums delivering water. And then God, who probably thinks my sense of humor above was not all that funny, stepped in: “How much do you want?  We’ll make a batch for you.”

It was right out of Malachi 3:10 which the pastor preached on in Haiti on Sunday – “Bring ye all the tithes into the storehouse, that there may be meat in mine house, and prove me now herewith, saith the Lord of hosts, if I will not open you the windows of heaven, and pour you out a blessing, that there shall not be room enough to receive it.”

I had been faithful. I had gone to Haiti and loved what I did. I worked hard and felt that love of God that we all talk about. And when I joked about the love of God He did “prove me now herewith” and sent the right person at the right time to bless me with ice cream.

It sounds silly, doesn’t it? But I will have 10 containers of my favorite flavor on Friday. And they didn’t have to do it. They usually don’t do it. But they did it for me. He did it for me.

And I am humbled by that. Yes, humbled by ice cream. But it is a measure of His love.

Where do you see God in your day-to-day that others might miss Him?  Do you recognize and acknowledge His love when He blesses you? Are you even aware of the good care that He takes of you?

I will be writing a lot about Haiti in the coming weeks. I will take a break here and there to put up some other posts. And I promise no “and there was a goat 400 meters…” etc.

I hope you will take time to read the posts. Miracles happen and we were part of them. I’d appreciate it if you’d share the ones you like on Facebook and Twitter. I can use the audience – and the people you share them with might just need that blessing.

 

My neighbors – my brothers.

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From darkness into light.

I’m a night shift kind of guy. I have worked overnights for a long time, most of my adult life when you get to the nub of it. During that time I’ve grown accustomed to the dark and working alone, or with just a few people around. Part of that is that night people cling together a little more closely than the day crew. Part of it is that we are a bit more at ease with a small view of the world and darkness enveloping our existence.

I get off work and head home to do chores most days. This winter it’s included more than a desirable amount of snow removal. No massive amounts of the white stuff, but just enough every day or two that I’m required to remove it. Because I take care of dead people (my neighbor passed and I keep the house up until it gets demolished to avoid vandalism), absent people (a neighbor who moved but keeps the property up), and old people (one elderly neighbor who I’ve shoveled for for years) I cover a lot of ground with my beloved snow blower. And having lived in the “hood” for almost twenty years I notice things.

I live in the darkness out of choice. I actually have enough seniority to take a different shift (for the moment, anyway.) But there are lots of our brothers and sisters who are in a different kind of darkness and they cannot escape from their captivity. They are caught in addiction.

You probably are in love with someone with an addiction. A family member, a close friend, a mate, someone you know pretty well, or just the guy down the block. You’re supposed to love them according to Christ. But you don’t. You don’t even see them in the shadows of the night fighting the demons of addiction, crying for help and sobriety.

It’s not that you are mean-spirited or cruel. Many of them hide the fact that they are addicts. They do a great job on that account because of shame. But if you look out into the darkness you can see the footprints leaving the light and heading into the shadows. I see those footprints. I see them come back into the light on occasion. And I rejoice. Lots of prayer to work that miracle.

Lest you think this just a tortured metaphor, I was inspired to write this because of real footprints in the snow. I usually get the snow blower out and about just after 0800 and get working. And every time I’ve gone to blow snow this winter there’s been a single set of footprints past my door. It starts a few doors down and heads directly for the liquor store 2 blocks away. Their passage tells me that they’re timed to arrive just as the store opens – the first chance to “get straight” they have under state law.

Whose footprints? I know the family. All are friendly with me. I pray for them and wave to them, but there’s a sadness there that I cannot breach. A sadness and an illness that I’m familiar with in my own life. I have that cursed gene in my family, lost relatives to it, lost friends to it, lost brain cells to it. I see what it does to people and I am filled with remorse and sadness that we got kicked out of the Garden of Eden and took up that burden. And one of those fellow sons of Adam trudges past my door every morning of the week to replenish their stock of alcohol so that they don’t die from withdrawal.

I stop my blower and pray when I see the steps in the snow. I hope that you, dear reader, don’t suffer from that addiction. But if you do – there is hope. You can survive it and take those steps out of the darkness. I know it for a fact. And I’ll be praying that you find that blessing in your life.

Are you addicted? Are you in love with an addict? Are you working your way out of that life right now. Let me know, I’ll add you to my prayers.

Until then, be well and be with God.

More of that serious stuff.

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This post is directed at all of you with children. And those of you that play the games that children do. And those of you who were in any job or position where you ever bashed your head. Today’s topic is concussion.

Before you stop and move on to the next article, I have to admit that I used to think people who complained about this injury, and the danger and damage from a concussion, might be whiners. I no longer think that. I’m a fairly “macho” guy, did my share of risky things and took my share of shots. But I was also more of a nerd, a debater, a book worm than most guys my size and build. I can see both sides of the argument as people present them. Fact is, there is really only one side – it’s bad news. I’m not a doctor, don’t even play one on television, but I hope that you ponder what I present below and give it the reflection it deserves.

Concussion is far more common than most of us will admit, or even sometimes recognize. It includes “getting your bell rung” and other shots to the head that stun or daze you. The overall term is Chronic Traumatic Encephalopathy.

I’m suffering from a little bit of a headache just writing this blog today. I had a severe concussion a few years ago. It was an accident. I was stooping behind the garage door to pick up something and someone opened the door. Thankfully I was wearing a stocking cap and the thick rolled portion took the blow from the doorknob. If not, I shudder to think what damage might have been done. As it was, it was a rough three weeks following that bang on the head.

But the point is that it did happen. And I did suffer trauma from the blow. It combined with all the other bashes to my fat head over the years. Does this explain my behavior? Nah, my mother will vouch for the fact that I was “a little bit off” long before any head trauma.

After watching the video below I realized that most people kind of amble on down the road ignorant of the dangers, especially to young people. A coworker of mine slipped on the ice at work last week and hit his head. He got a concussion by all of the symptoms he described. And yet I don’t think he went to the doctor or was encouraged to do so by management.

If you would be so kind as to take the time today to watch the video it will be a good way to spend your time. Put it on your mobile device and watch it while your kid is at hockey practice. You owe it to yourself to get educated on this issue.
 


Link to Head Games.