I Thought I'd Find Peace by Now

I thought I would find peace by now.

Trains, planes and automobiles took us to Washougal, Washington, and back last week to honor a friend killed when five stories of concrete collapsed on him in Port au Prince as he was heading out to meet representatives of a rural clinic to install solar panels. Because of the manner of his death the rituals of visitation, a wake, saying good bye were not possible. There was something incomplete in that, and quite lonely.
In Washougal, fifty men and women from the Cape Horn Patriot Guard, a triple volley of seven guns from the Air Guard, 25 Bhuddists from the Tzi Chi Foundation, four Knights of Malta, a film director, an Army Ranger, a representative from Partners in Health, business associates for sustainable living, two Christian pastors, three musicians and search-and-rescue teams fresh from Haiti, joined Linda and me with the family. There was something contrary to the otherwise incomplete loneliness of grief; something quite transcendent. It was no longer a matter of finding a place for my grief, but one of recognizing the vast fabric we weave with the threads of struggle that connect our lives.

We met twelve years ago as Walter was making a transition from business to humanitarianism. He pursued this passion brought on by a revelation of spirit that there is a matrix of existence that ties us all together, and if one suffers, all suffer to some degree. The best we can do is to ease the struggle of each other wherever and however we might.

The hectic pace of the trains, planes and automobiles of last week has drawn to a hush now, as has this life of our friend. But life itself has not. My struggle continues as does yours, and as we struggle together with none of us really finding much peace, I wonder if the best we can do is to do our thing, tow the line, turn the crank, enjoy what days we have, and carry each other along the road. I found that in Washougal. I hope we can find that here.

We continue to hear from our mission workers in Haiti. This letter arrived a few days ago from Rodney Babe.

Dear John,

Greatly appreciate knowing you are praying for us. Terribly sorry about our brother and your representative, Walter, sharing with those within Haiti. We empathize with you in the unknowing. The ray of hope, loss and pain stretches so far from the epicenter and the hurt is shared in so many ways.

Sharyn is healing. She walks with a walker, perhaps 40 feet, but then is exhausted and sick to her stomach and needs to lie down for a couple hours. I was shocked at how fragile of a starting place she is launching from. Broken ribs are hurting more as pain meds are adjusted downward. She doesn't discuss the earthquake expect to really trusted friends.

There are a dozen earthquake victims here in her group therapy that meets each day. Their shared experience allows her to cross the barrier of withdrawal as they begin a deeper healing. Again we are strongly praying their support is enough during these especially turbulent coming months.

Certainly nice weather has to be the positive thought for the day.

Thanks for your prayers,

Rodney

Reaching Beyond the Disaster

Twenty-six days after the Hotel Montana collapsed Walter was found. 1,882 people (that we know of) have been keeping a vigil of hope alive all this time. Even as the days drew longer and longer, eminent thoughts of grace never ceased. But in the end he died in the earthquake. Haiti has become personal for many. FaceBook comments (“Walt Ratterman - Haiti Mission”) sometimes reflect our feelings of futility in the face of devastating situations, and we wonder, “What good could there ever be in this?” Even as the hope endures, the loss stings.

If you met Walter’s wife Jeanne and his daughter Briana when they were here a few years ago, then you know, like us, that the numb anonymity of a massive disaster is no longer an option. A face, a voice, smile a memory now accompany the huge numbers; the immense destruction. Maybe this plants at least one seed of good. We realize we really cannot be detached from the horrors of an earthquake, a tsunami, an avalanche, a tornado, hurricane, mudslide, wildfire, flood, blizzard, volcano, heat wave…. When it is personal, it is real; not just a newsclip on CNN that will fade from consciousness in a day or two.

I guess I’m wondering how many disasters must become personal before we as a human family come to realize how precious each breath is that we all draw in common? I just wonder if we would not be just a bit more astute in sharing the burden of humanity’s pain of which there is plenty without an added disaster. In here the hope continues and we can reach beyond the disaster.

News from Haiti

From Susan Merten, wife of the U.S. Ambassador to Haiti, this firsthand report of the Jan. 16 earthquake given at Falls Church, Virginia, Rotary last Thursday.

“A horrible groaning from the earth as things started to shake. ... The noise became like a train roaring through our bedroom. ... The stairs rippling like waves on the water. ... Our building constructed in 1939 was earthquake resistant, which saved our lives, while across the street the old Hotel Christoph, housing U.N. Peacekeeping forces, collapsed and 400 were killed. Higher up the hill, the Hotel Montana also collapsed, taking the lives of many staying there.
“A dust cloud arose over the rubble, the result of shanty towns on the hills above the capital sliding into the valley. The night was pitch-black, with no electricity, and the city screamed all night long. After daylight: crying, screaming, bodies, collapsed buildings with limbs hanging out; ... and people just walking around in a daze. Over a million of the nation's nine million people residing in a country the size of Maryland are now homeless.
"The problem is not going away. For a country that may as well have been hit by an atomic bomb, the recovery and rebuilding effort will be daunting. With a million homeless and the rainy season coming only a few months away, the needs there will be enormous for a long time.”

From Rodney and Sharyn Babe our Missionaries in Haiti:

John,

Sharyn was seriously injured when our 4th floor apartment building totally collapsed. Her back was broken 3 places and about 7 ribs. there was other severe trauma injuries. She was medivaced to Cuba and then to Ft Lauderdale.

I have spoken with Sharyn about every evening and she has had a massive improvement in the last 3 days. With the aid of a walker, she now walks about 20 feet each day for PT. All are amazed at her recovery; guess they don't know the power of prayers.

I saw my first picture of her yesterday. She looks extremely old but with a great smile. Her body cast is not Grammy Award stylish but is doing the job well.

I hope to see her live later this week.

It has taken a long time to tell you thanks, but I am a terrible typist and work has been 24/7 trying to get responses to affected communities.

Rodney

Playing the Blues

Playing the Blues … Ken “Sticks” Scully and “Plucking” Pastor John lobbied a visit the House of Blues this last August when we were in Chicago for the Leadership Summit, but the schedule didn’t allow it. Too bad.

There is something about this music that reaches to the depths of the soul that is inaccessible in other styles. Listen to sounds from the crossroads of US 49 and 62 in Clarksdale, Mississippi, the tones of Chris Thomas King, or Muddy Waters, Buddy Guy or B.B. King and you can feel your chest tighten as if something deep inside is suddenly trying to bust out.

Trained in a classic style, the Blues are challenging. They violate disciplined European forms of strict metering, controlled technique, regulated expression and mastery of style. In true Teutonic elitism it is easy to discount the visceral foundations of the Blues as somewhat semi-barbaric. Yet, as Buddy Guy pointed out,”It comes from inside; you play with your soul.”

I have wondered if God, through Jesus, is trying to reach to the deep “blues of our soul;” to delve behind the intellect, the reason, the discipline, the order (as beneficial as these are for ordering society) to crack open the painful yearnings of our lonely selves and let us soar in beauty. Just maybe God loves us that much that nothing would be left out of salvation, but the whole being would find its expression in life; a life playing the blues.