Headbands and bracelets can now be found at the Arctic Wolf in Laingsburg Michigan, and at Climb Time of Blue Ash in Blue Ash, Ohio! Thank you everyone for all of your support! I would love e-mails or comments on here about how your bracelets and headbands are holding up! Feedback will really help me make these things better! And thank you to Jason for sending me a box full of rope from California, I have definitely been busy making things!
And don't forget you can still buy stuff from Andy at Inside Moves in Byron Center, Michigan, or directly from me, by e-mailing sizes and colors at malint@comcast.net
Sunday, May 15, 2011
Friday, May 13, 2011
10 years
July 2001
I am 15, sitting in the dark under a sky painted with glow in the dark orbs. No I am not in my bedroom at home, the sky is real, and the orbs are stars burning bright under the Arizona mountain sky. This is my last night at the Fort Appache Indian Reservation, I have just had my feet washed as a ceremonial send off from a week long Mission Trip with Youthworks, and my close friends from Haslett Community Church. As i sit there I do not bow my head to pray, but I turn my eyes toward the sky, burning the image of Gods vast creations in to my head, and I pray, no i plead to God that I will not go home and forget every thing that has happened here, but instead remember everyone who has touched me. At that moment the first shooting star I have ever seen blazes across the sky, and I am at peace. I thank the Lord for all the things he has blessed me with, and I go on with my evening saying Goodbye to all the friends I have made here.
When I get home I talk for weeks about my trip. I run the memories over and and over in my head, and try and contact the friends I have made in an effort not to forget a single moment. But as the weeks past the life that had never really stopped in my absence comes crashing down on me. Sophomore year begins and I am once again engulfed in the every day rituals of class, and homework, and the ever so stressful task of having the best social life possible.
April 2011
I am 25, older than I feel, and like to admit, I am sitting in the dark once again staring up at the same painted sky with glowing orbs, but this times Kompa Music blast through speakers on the other side of a concrete wall, and incomprehensible chatter buzzes all around me. It is Saturday night at the Good Shepherd Orphanage in Carrefour Haiti, and as the younger kids sit in their rooms playing, and avoiding sleep, the older kids mill around, stepping in and out of the front gate for a Coke and a little dance in the street. I laugh at their goofy moves, tell them I can't dance when they encourage me to join in, and I once again look to the sky and pray to God that I can find the best ways and reasons possible to help my friends who have become more like family. Then as it did ten years earlier a stars shoots across the sky, and I smile because I know God is good, and he will help my find my way. And this time although I know two weeks from now I will be sitting at home dreading going to work, and thinking of ways to get back to Haiti, I at least feel a little better that even if the every day habits of life get in my way, I will not forget where I have been, and I will forever be trying to get back.
I am 15, sitting in the dark under a sky painted with glow in the dark orbs. No I am not in my bedroom at home, the sky is real, and the orbs are stars burning bright under the Arizona mountain sky. This is my last night at the Fort Appache Indian Reservation, I have just had my feet washed as a ceremonial send off from a week long Mission Trip with Youthworks, and my close friends from Haslett Community Church. As i sit there I do not bow my head to pray, but I turn my eyes toward the sky, burning the image of Gods vast creations in to my head, and I pray, no i plead to God that I will not go home and forget every thing that has happened here, but instead remember everyone who has touched me. At that moment the first shooting star I have ever seen blazes across the sky, and I am at peace. I thank the Lord for all the things he has blessed me with, and I go on with my evening saying Goodbye to all the friends I have made here.
When I get home I talk for weeks about my trip. I run the memories over and and over in my head, and try and contact the friends I have made in an effort not to forget a single moment. But as the weeks past the life that had never really stopped in my absence comes crashing down on me. Sophomore year begins and I am once again engulfed in the every day rituals of class, and homework, and the ever so stressful task of having the best social life possible.
April 2011
I am 25, older than I feel, and like to admit, I am sitting in the dark once again staring up at the same painted sky with glowing orbs, but this times Kompa Music blast through speakers on the other side of a concrete wall, and incomprehensible chatter buzzes all around me. It is Saturday night at the Good Shepherd Orphanage in Carrefour Haiti, and as the younger kids sit in their rooms playing, and avoiding sleep, the older kids mill around, stepping in and out of the front gate for a Coke and a little dance in the street. I laugh at their goofy moves, tell them I can't dance when they encourage me to join in, and I once again look to the sky and pray to God that I can find the best ways and reasons possible to help my friends who have become more like family. Then as it did ten years earlier a stars shoots across the sky, and I smile because I know God is good, and he will help my find my way. And this time although I know two weeks from now I will be sitting at home dreading going to work, and thinking of ways to get back to Haiti, I at least feel a little better that even if the every day habits of life get in my way, I will not forget where I have been, and I will forever be trying to get back.
Monday, May 2, 2011
m'avo Ayiti
Well I can say it has been too long since I last wrote to my adoring fans (I'm sure you all have been dying to hear from me!) eskize'm sivouple, due to a poor internet connection at the Orphanage, and the following of kids I had asking to use their facebook, I did not have the time to write on here. So now I will do a little back tracking to cover my steps over the past several weeks.
Kristen and I stepped off of the plane in Port-Au-Prince to a balmy 95 degrees, typical of the Caribbean country, and as I breathed in the hot stuffy air, the aroma of burning trash smoke, and dust filled my nose. I was in one of my homes, and this made me happy. Mwen kontann. To most this sort of welcome would invoke feelings of dread, and leave most wondering what they have gotten themselves in to, but for Kristen and I we breathed deep dust filled sighs of relief and moved towards customs anxious with anticipation wondering who would be waiting to greet us in the parking lot.
A question I most frequently get asked when talking about Haiti is "Why? Why Haiti?" and up until a few weeks ago I could never fully answer that question with a response that satisfied me, or the person asking. But then at the moment and place I least expected, the words to explain my desire flowed from a mans lips I had never met. And those words had been relayed in a circular pattern, and quoted from the man who's funeral I was currently attending.
So here is a Journal entry I wrote dated April 16th, which was the day after my brother had had is first baby, and the day of the funeral of Papa Ernst Cassey.
Today I mourn the death of a man with a thousand children, and celebrate the new life of Wyatt my brothers first son.
Papa Cassey left behind so many children that will never forget him. Being able to attend his funeral was a blessing and a way to show all of us how great a human being can really be. Compassion flowed through this man and his beliefs and faith will forever be represented through all of the wonderful children who had the privilege to call him Papa.
At the funeral a man from the states had a chance to speak and he summed up perfectly what I have never been able to explain about my coming to Haiti. This man was able to explain what I never could put in to words. He told us about the first time he met Papa Cassey and how Cassey told him "When you come to Haiti, your heart becomes broken, and you will forever keep coming back to look for the other half." When I heard this I cried for the man I had barely known but heard so many good things about. I cried in gratitude for the brilliant words that the poor old man could never have expressed to me in person, and I thanked the lord for giving the world such a humble and giving man to so many who needed him.
Now all I can do is pray that someone equally giving and caring will step up to take Papa Cassey's place because lord only knows all of those kids are suffering physically, emotionally, and spiritually with out a constant presence that assures them they are loved.
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