It was after four grueling days of heat and humid weather in Haiti that I found a time of solace. After teaching via two interpreters at the Seminary and Technical School of Bethany, and wondering if everything I said was translated correctly, I obliged myself to a time of rest after my last class. This trip, which was designed to exclusively teach pastors and ministers in the bible seminary, greatly differed from past trips where I was a part of a team that built church benches, school desks and storage shelves for the orphanage.
I left my two traveling companions, Vasco Boyd and Wayne Steiner in Port-Au-Prince as I waited for a driver to take me on the next leg of the journey to Les Cayes. My driver finally arrived at the guest house saying, “I am your driver, Claudius” with a strong Creole accent that made me listen attentively. He wore no uniform, only jeans and a short plaid shirt as he began to load my luggage into his black four wheel vehicle. He spoke enough English to be friendly and understood, but not enough to be conversant. For hours we traversed the winding road toward our destination when Claudius interrupted, “Have you been here before?” I quickly responded, “I was here four months ago, prior to the cholera outbreak”.
Four months ago didn’t seem that long. It was during that trip when one of our team members almost died. My two travel companions in Port-Au-Prince and I were a part of a 10 member team. My roommate during the last visit was Vasco, a bubbly black man with a Hispanic appearance who mourned his wife’s recent passing, and Wayne, a self-employed carpenter who remained behind with us to care for our sick team member, LaSaun, who experienced an unexplained illness two days before our scheduled departure. We watched as seven team members headed to the airport to go home, while the three of us and Mike Fisher, Bethanie Mission Board Chairman, reassured them of our intent to join them within two days in the States.
On the second night of our stay over, Vasco checked on LaSaun after midnight, only to find her comatose. After repeated failed attempts to revive her, Vasco immediately woke everyone in the guest house. Hastily dressing, we ran to LaSaun’s room. Within a few minutes of prayer and observation, we quickly realized that our efforts to revive her were insufficient. Instinctively, I ran to our room to get a blanket and quickly returned commanding, “Roll her in the blanket and let’s carry her to the hospital.”
Four of us each gathered a corner of the blanket to carry our friend down two flights of steps into the waiting van, praying all of the way. We sped down the unpaved rocky road as fast as we could, praying, and occasionally stopping just enough to catch ourselves from being tossed like rag dolls throughout the van. Afterwards, I thought about the four friends mentioned in the second chapter of Mark, who committed to get their palsied friend to Jesus, even if it meant coming through the roof.
As we sped seemingly across every pothole in the city to get to our destintion, we entered the dimly lit hospital in Luminere, past people who were asleep outside on the pavement, covered only with white sheets. First thinking them to be dead as we approached with intent stares in the dark of night, we soon realized they were asleep. My heart sank as I realized that our hope had to be in God, because from the appearance of the hospital our situation may have gone from bad to worst. We deposited LaSaun on a gurney made of PCV pipe beside the nursing station, as Pastor Augustin and his wife, Franchette, spoke for us in Creole. We stood watching and praying, “God, we need a miracle.”
A young Haitian physician, who I later came to know as Dr. Morise, was on duty clad in a white polo shirt and jeans. With each passing minute, LaSaun’s condition worsened as her sugar count exceeded the limits on the outdated monitor. She arrived with no pulse and her veins had but all collapsed. We were desperate. Excusing myself for a moment, I went outside and prayed repeatedly, “God, you did not bring her here to go home in a box”.
Dr. Morise and two nurses worked feverishly to finally locate an operative vein in the neck. We watched as Dr. Morise literally squeezed the first IV bag with his hands to rush the fluid into LaSaun’s motionless body. Three additional bags of fluid were injected into LaSaun’s motionless body before getting a response. By this time the entire open 48 bed hospital was abuzz with news about our dilemma, as they observed the medical team’s attempt to revive LaSuan as she lay in a coma at the nurse station in open view for everyone to see.
The night passed slowly as we held LaSaun’s neck in a stable position to maintain a continuous IV flow. Several hours after daybreak, Dr. Morise spoke in Creole, “I think she will make it. She’s not out of danger yet, but it’s beginning to look hopeful.” Almost immediately we established bedside shifts to insure that LaSaun, though still unconscious on the gurney beside the nurse station, would receive the best possible treatment that the hospital could provide.
The next day LaSaun was moved to the first bed in the hospital, nearest to the nurse station. As I sat beside her bed noticing ants crawling on the wall and shortly thereafter saw a cat enter the front door uninterrupted, I prayed, “Lord please let LaSaun walk out of here on her own strength.
LaSaun’s condition remained unstable, causing Vasco and I to seek help from the United Nations to transport her out of the country. We left the hospital headed to the UN headquarters. After presenting ourselves as United States citizens, showing passports and Virginia licenses, we gained access to the UN Medical Emergency Response Unit to no avail. We were escorted from one office to another, and lastly informed, “come back tomorrow” by an official from Ecuador. We were dismayed as we returned to the hospital. Upon our arrival, Dr. Morise greeted us in English that LaSaun’s condition had progressively improved, as he said, “She will be fine” with a smile. I instinctively hugged and squeezed him as I thanked him repeatedly.
The word of a miracle began to circulate throughout the city. Visitors left carrying eye witness reports from hospital patients about what they saw God do. The news had traveled so much that days later, as we visited a travel agent to get airline tickets from Les Cayes to Port-Au-Prince, that he stated, “I heard that God performed a miracle at the hospital. Everyone is talking about it”, he said.
Prior to exiting the hospital Vasco asked Dr. Morise, “what does the hospital need?” On the evening of LaSaun’s release, Dr. Morise presented me with a hospital needs list and I assured him that we would attempt to meet the needs of the hospital. The list included the following: 1) computer, 2) printer, 3) copier, 4) ultrasound machine, and 5) much, much prayer.
By the end of the week we emerged from the hospital as all the patients watched in awe. LaSaun, clad in a pink robe, steadied herself upon my arm as we walked to the parked car. With each step I thanked God for answering my prayer and for showing His mighty power in the least of all places, a run-down, hole in the wall, hospital. But isn’t that how the savior came into the world, born in the least of all places, because there was no room in the inn?
On this four month return trip to Haiti, God arranged that the three of us would return to the guest house together. Mike Fisher met us in Port-Au-Prince with another group, and together with Vasco and Wayne, they came to support the new church project in Port-Au-Prince, while I came to teach at the seminary in Les Cayes.
A week later Vasco and Wayne met me in Les Cayes. Excited to see each other again, we sat at the dining table for dinner with Pastor Augustin and Franchette, remembering our last time together, and our friend, LaSaun. We came for different reasons, but most of all, we came to make a deposit on our promise to the hospital, bringing a computer. As we sat at the dining table excitedly making plans to carry the computer to the hospital as our first gift installment, we reflected on the lesson that God taught us, namely that He is an ever present help, especially when all hope is lost.
Our next planned trip to Haiti is June 2011. Our desire is to make a greater installment to the hospital and to the ministry of Bethanie Mission of Haiti. We need your help to make it happen. Tax-exempt donations to the ministry may be forwarded via the ministry website at www.bethaniemission.org. To this end, we remain grateful.