Over the River and Through the Woods

Over the river and through the woods...
to Berger (bare-jzay) we go!


Quite literally, my group drives straight through the St. Louis river and through some woods to get to Berger everyday for their Neighbors Project.


Into the church...
where one wall was shared with the pastor's house and the other three were tarps pulled around bamboo poles.  The tarp roof tried in vain to keep rain off of the dirt floor, resulting in more than one muddy Sunday. Boards were laid across cinder blocks like a rickety bridge--these were the pews.


This was the atmosphere of our first meeting with Pastor Agenour in Berger.  My Neighbors Project group came in with practically no plans, so our first day in Berger (Wednesday) was spent talking to the pastor about how he has been doing and what his dreams and needs and concerns are for the church.  From there, we made a plan for the week, which lucky you get to hear about in bits and pieces.  :)

Under the tree...
you'd find a group of kids sitting cross-legged, staring up at the crazy blan who's trying to speak Creole.


Today, Thursday, I was put out of my comfort zone a little bit... My group wanted to do a Bible lesson with the kids about growing strong in God.  We talked about splitting them up into two groups, but we only had one interpreter.  "Melissa, why don't you take the second group?  You speak enough Creole..."  *insert 'are you crazy' face here*  But I went.  We were going to tell the story of Jesus using a cloth that changes colors when you flip it inside out--black represents sin, red is Jesus' blood, white is our sins cleaned, gold is the streets in Heaven, and green is growing with God.  The pastor came with me, but he wasn't comfortable using the little cloth as a teaching tool, so I told the story in my broken Creole to all the kids.  I'm not going to lie, it was a little scary.  Sometimes they got it.  Sometimes they looked at me like "Who is this crazy blan butchering our language?"  But when I explained the basics, the pastor took over.  When we switched groups, the pastor felt comfortable teaching the whole lesson by himself.  It was beautiful to watch him take ownership over what may grow into a strong children's ministry.


Prie:
In the arms of nurse...
falls a woman, collapsed from her own uncontrollable sobs.  Lisa holds her tightly as the woman cries out in Creole, "That's my baby girl!  That's my baby girl!"

Though I wasn't there to witness the scene, Lisa told the story pretty vividly.  A woman had noticed some strange injuries and bruises on her 9-year-old daughter's lower half... After bringing the girl to the mission's clinic, it was discovered that she had been raped.  A 9-year-old girl.  Please be in prayer for both the mother and daughter... All we can give is prayer, but God can heal hearts.

Loue:
Through the back door...
of the church, you can see a flag.  It's red and waving in the neighbor's yard.  From the pew in the church, you can see the Voodoo flag marking it's territory.

Pastor Agenour told us that the Voodoo priest has been complaining.  Ever since the church was built, business has been bad.  So he's moving.

Ironic, isn't it?  That just earlier in the day, we told our interpreter: "Would you ask the pastor, what kids of jobs are available in Berger?"  And it took him a minute to be able to answer because he was laughing so hard.  At the pure ridiculousness of the question.  Ironic that now we are praising God for the lack of "business" someone else is having...

Creole Lesson:
In the home of the broken...
where woman feel trapped into a life of selling their bodies and children don't know who their father is, I met my sister.

While some groups were talking to the women at the brothel, I found myself having a conversation with two of the little girls there.  I found out that they were 7 and 8 years old, the older was Speranda and the younger Techmigine.  They were sisters, with the mother at the brothel and two different fathers.  I continued to talk to them as we were leaving.  One of the older girls, who had noticed us talking, pointed at Speranda and then me and said, "Ou sanble li!"

"You look like her!"

I laughed.  I couldn't help it.  Excuse me?  I look like an 8-year-old Haitian girl?  I looked down at Speranda, and then at the other girl and smiled as I said, "Li se mwen."  "She's my sister."

They're not so different after all, you know?

I'll follow You into the homes of the broken.
I'll follow You into the world.
Meet the needs for the poor and the needy, God.
I'll follow You into the world.