This will be a long blog! You are being forewarned...
Saturday night, I realized I had no idea where the church was or when it started, so I called the Beauregard cell phone and got all the details. Church stated at 9:30 I was told, so I left about 9 to ensure I would not be late. I did the good thing and called my mom on the way to church to let her know I was being saved for the week, however, being lost in conversation with her, I got lost in Little Haiti. Not the place you tend to want to be lost. However, the houses were much nicer, remembering I was near the north border and must have left the "neighborhood." I turned around and got to the church about 9:25, but there were no cars. I called the phone again and sure enough I was at the right place, but only 5 minutes b
efore church started. Yvrose, my principal, greeted me at the door with a smiling face. It was a door straight into the sanctuary. Of course it is a door at the very front where everyone watches who is late to church. I walk in and turn my head to find about 200 staring chairs sitting completely empty. Five minutes for church and I was the first person. Therefore, I sat and talked to Yvrose and Patrick (her husband and pastor of the church) for a good thirty minutes before someone else came in. A young mother with her two children sat right next to me. After about 3 minutes, Patrick jumped up to the pulpit and starts welcoming everyone there as if 500 people sat there. However, there were four of us, and he wasn't even looking at us or making the hand motions at us, but the invisible people in the congregation. He then broke into song, which surprisingly was a Christmas song. He sang it acappella accompanied by me and a crying boy. As us five whole people in the congregation seemed to be worshipping, I sat there wondering if he was practicing the service or what, but Patrick just kept on going w
ith it as if he was giving the State of the Union Address. Slowly, people started knocking on the door as the preacher would walk away from the mic, yet keep on preaching. I really thought it must be a very little church. But the line of people coming in just seemed to keep going. After 45 minutes of listening to the sermon, or what I thought was the sermon, he said he was making his last point. When the last "point" was made, he finished up by saying, "This is the end of sunday school. We will now continue with the service," and just like that he went into the service by starting another speech. Now that I knew that was Sunday School, it made sense to me. Very few people come to that, but the church was now full for the service.
The sermon started off by sounding like a very Mennonite sermon as he talked of the peace-lovers in the world and the peace-makers in the world. However, this is when the turn away from the Mennonite church happened. He talked about how the peace-lover live in the United States where they are used to the peacefulness of living in a free country. The peace-makers were the men in Afghanistan fighting for our country. They are over there killing the "nonpeaceful" terrorists, making the world a more peaceful place. Th
erefore, they are the "peace-makers." While coming from a Mennonite background, it really seemed very weird to hear this coming from the pulpit. About that time, a little kid said there was somebody outside the door. The pastor said, "You must have 20/20 vision. That is good vision that is needed in the military. You should be in Afghanistan with an M-16 rifle, mowing down the enemies." "Talk about peaceful," is what went straight through my head. But then I started thinking about where he was coming from. Not everyone was raised in the Mennonite world, promoting peace as we see it. Some people can see war as a way of making peace by getting rid of the guys who are not letting peace be a part of our world. Can I accept this, yes I think I can? I do not live this way, but accepting the fact that this is in our world is something everyone needs to do. Why can we not respect other people's thoughts and religious beliefs? It is the differences in cultures that we must respect to appreciate them fully. Today, I felt like I was dropped off straight into Haiti!
After the sermon, there was lots of singing dancing, more singing, a moment to point out the tall white guy trying to hide on the side of the sanctuary because, "he doesn't do the singing and dancing things in church and isn't used to it," and more singing. Then, the song leader finally said, "This will be the last song," and my heart about jumped as I had been si
tting there for quite some time. Then came the dagger in the heart. "After the song, the pastor will come up to give the sermon." You have got to be kidding me! The SERMON??? If that was not what the first to 45 minute speeches were, then what is the sermon going be?? He walked up, said about 3 sentences, closed his Bible and said, "Have a good day!" WOW! Quit possibly the shortest sermon I had ever sat through. I almost bet it was meant to be a benediction, but either way church was finally over.
Everyone was invited to stay for a birthday party in which they had cake and all sorts of Haitian appetizers to celebrate. After getting through the 30 people lined up to greet me, Yvrose met me with a plate absolutely loaded down with cake and all sorts of gluten-filled goodies. As I thought she knew about my gluten intolerance, I held the plate not to be rude and watched as everyone wanted to know if the big white-guy liked their food. In the movie SWAT, there is a line that says, "You know, sometimes doing the right thing isn't doing the rig
ht thing!" It never seemed quite right until this moment. Sometimes, doing the right thing (turning it down) isn't doing the right thing. I don't know Haitian culture and if this would be completely rude to do so I just ate it. Sucked up, prepared for a long ride back home, and devoured it. While it was extremely good, I really wish I could have broken my gluten fast with something like D'Marios pizza or macaroni and cheese.
I made sure to say my good-byes quickly after the feast to make sure I got home as quick as possible. I loaded up my 15-passenger creeper van, and took out. The journey home was normal except for the air bubbles that seemed to keep coming out of my lower cavity. That was the only effect, which I was very thankful for!
I get home and have to prepare for the BBQ which was about to come. The house all jumps in together and we get everything ready as the first guest came an hour early. Quickly, the house fills up with my room mates work partners, which I obviously don't know. Being the shy person I am, I offer to grill, keeping me out of the house. I sat out there, waiting to see if the Beauregards were going to come. Finally, about 2 hours later, they showed up to the house. It was fun bringing them in and showing them all where I lived. They wanted t
o see the art I had done, as they had heard I was an artist. I showed them pictures and it was so funny to hear everyone gasp on the pieces that I think are horrible. They could not believe I had such a talent. "OOOHH Isaac! You WILL come back next year and teach art for us," Mrs. Beauregard said with a huge smile on her face. (And people say it is hard to find jobs these days!)
They stayed for a bit, and left as they had to get back for evening church. People stayed until about 9 when the last person left. We all pitched in a bit clea
ning everything up, and then crashed. It was a good weekend and I can't wait to go back to work in
the morning. Never thought I would do something that I would say that to! Praise God!
(A picture from my section of the 'classroom' looking into the elementary school)
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