The camp where I work has a giant swing. It’s kind like the big v-swings you see at amusement parks, but much cooler, in my opinion, because of the free fall factor at the beginning. We were training our summer staff on the swing last week and we hooked Jake up in a child’s harness, strapped him to my own harness and the v-swing, and away we went. He was a bit nervous on the way up, but when we dropped and started swinging back and forth, he went completely limp and just laid back and enjoyed himself. Toward the end of the ride, he even started kicking his feet and laughing! What a brave little guy. The pic below is just as we’re getting started when he’s still not too sure about things…

What a Man!

Spring has sprung…okay, that was weeks ago, but it still feels new and exciting. Spring is a great time around our house for a variety of reasons. First of all, I get to ride my motorcycle again! That in and of itself is reason to rejoice, but there are so many other things. Walks with the wife and boy are more comfortable…going for a jog is less obnoxious…bonfires are once again a dry nightly ritual…and of course, the yard gets some attention after a long winter of death and ugliness. If you’ve followed my blog for a while, you may know that I’m not much of a green thumb. In fact, the part of a man that drives him to beautify his yard has always struck me to be like most other beautiful things, very girly! It’s hard for me to get jazzed up about getting my hands dirty in a flower bed when there are so many other places to gets ones hands dirty, like under the hood of a car, fixing a chain saw, or in the body cavity of a deer carcass! You can imagine my surprise then when this spring I started having an overwhelming desire to do more than just cut the grass and weed eat. It could be that it’s one of the few things Melissa and I can do together once Jake goes to bed, or it could be that I’m growing up (I am 30, you know),

The twin and me, at the turning 30 party

or I could just be really bored. At any rate, I’ve found great satisfaction in working in the yard this spring. Our flower beds are shaping up nicely, I’ve put in a nice fire ring, scraped the topsoil off and brought in gravel for what will be the under side of our back deck, and our grass looks better than it ever has (this is the part where you stop reading and loudly applaud)! However, all that is sadly about to change as we’ve also dug and poured footers on the concrete foundation for our garage floor, stacked a pile of concrete blocks in our yard, and over the course of the next few days we’ll have to move our driveway to make space for the garage floor and the flower beds will get a nice sprinkling of shingle grit when we tear off our roof. Oh well, perhaps this new gardening leaf I’ve turned over will stick and I’ll have the desire to get it all looking nice again. We’ll have to wait and see!

As for the baby screams, our 8 month old son has found his voice in a rather annoying way. When Jake was younger, we all marveled at how deep his voice was and we couldn’t hardly wait to sign him up for a much manlier version of the 3 Tenors, known as the 3 Basses…actually, I made that up, but if there were such a group, Jake would sing lead. As it currently stands, and he currently sits in the living room floor surrounded by toys, he has started screaming at the top of his lungs for no particular reason. If he’s bored…scream…if he’s happy…scream…tired…scream…hungry…scream…poopy…scream…naked…scream…touching the fireplace right now like he’s not supposed to…scream! AHHHHHH….I don’t know how to get the boy to stop. I certainly hope its just a phase, otherwise his high school football days may be numbered. Don’t get me wrong, he’s a man’s man in every other way. He does well with the ladies, he’s friendly and waves at everyone, the dog is his best friend, and he farts and scratches at all the right times. But even with all that working for him, the screams are holding him back. Has any other father ever driven his family around wearing earplugs? That may be my next option. Have a good one.

Something for him to hate me for when he's older!

After having been gone 23 of 31 days in March, I was more than happy to come back home for a bit. That respite from the road was short-lived, however, as last Tuesday evening, I packed up with another guy here at camp named Scott, and we headed to south eastern Ohio for a paintball symposium put on by the Christian Paintball Academy. The CPA was founded to help non-profits, like the camp, take their paintball programs to the next level in terms of safety, promotion, gear maintenance, etc. We spent Wednesday through Friday in the classroom tearing apart and reassembling guns (the proper term for a paintball gun is a marker, but that isn’t nearly as cool, so I’ll stick with gun), learning strategies for running our own scenario games, and hearing stories from the main speaker, a guy who works in Cincy as an independent contractor for the US govt. who tries to figure out ways to be a terrorist in the city. If he succeeds, it usually costs a few million dollars, but it changes safety standards, which I guess is a good thing. I could tell you his name, but as I’m sure you’ve already guessed, he would then come kill you!

One of the highlights of the symposium (which there had better have been highlights to take me away from my wife and son for 4 days…okay, here’s a picture),

He gets his looks from his Mama!

was everyday after dinner, when we got the chance to play on their 25 acres dedicated to paintball. The property has bunkers of every shape and size, a sniper tower, the Alamo, a fuel depot, a minivan with wire mesh windows and a turret cut through the roof, and anything else you could imagine to put one in the mood to shoot things! On Wednesday night, we were playing a scenario game where 3 people were placed in the top of the depot, a two story building that is very difficult to capture, and they were charged with defending it against about a dozen attackers. The last team standing wins! I was on the defense the first game, and I’m happy to say I took out 6 before succumbing to the firefight. The second round, I was on the offensive, and had worked myself into a position less than 10 yards from the depot without even being seen. I asked a fellow symposium attendee named Phil to cover me with his full auto Tippman A5 (of which I am now a proud owner as well), and he was glad to throw down some paint to cover my unnoticed advance. In the midst of a barrage of paintballs, I made the corner of the depot and, with back pressed flat against the wall, was running through my options for entry and victory when, out of nowhere, I saw a streak from the left and felt the sudden sting of death (at least in paintball terms) as two orange paint filled orbs desecrated my left leg. One shot got me just above the ankle and the other shot, from close enough to break the skin and leave me bloody, caught me in the meat of my left thigh. I threw up my gun, called myself out, and resigned myself to spectator for the rest of the round. This story isn’t over yet, though, as I had carefully calculated there were only two guys left in the depot, and I had a line of sight on both of them. The shot had come from outside their stronghold, on the ground, from less than 3 yards. As I turned to see my victorious assailant, my blood boiled when I realized it was a tool from my own team! Now, please don’t get me wrong, I love a good paintball match, and getting shot is all part of the deal, but when its friendly fire, and it comes from less than 10 ft, and it hits so hard it makes me bleed, I am less than my normal gracious self. My only solace was the next day, when everyone who witnessed the Benedict Arnoldian (?) display chose to hound Mark (that was the traitor’s name) mercilessly, even from the front of the class where the teacher/referee of the game was seated! I am happy to say Mark and I worked out our differences, and I also shot him later in the game, multiple times in the knees, while he was wearing shorts!

On Saturday, as part of our graduation from the Academy, we helped run and participated in, a huge scenario game put on by Pleasant Vineyard Ministries called the Gorilla Game. After a morning of reffing and watching others have a great time, we were allowed to get in on the action. I was ecstatic, as this would be the first chance I really had to try out my new A5 with an e-trigger (it just means its electronic and shoots paint really fast!). After a few rounds of playing, getting shot, and being reinserted at various locations, the aforementioned Phil, with his own A5, and I, along with several other members of the red team (so noted by our red duct tape arm bands), found ourselves in a dream position. We were trying to take The Bunker, which is a WW II style concrete bunker (theirs is made out of plywood) that served as one of the main reinsertion points for the yellow team. If we could take it, we could control that entire area of the woods. There was one hapless 13 yr old in the bunker, keeping us from our objective, but this kid knew his stuff. He kept his head low, the paint flying, and he was certainly holding his own. Phil and I had worked to within 20 yds of the bunker and we had several of our teammates covering our flanks. I yelled to Phil to throw down some paint, and I made a mad dash to the front wall of the building and threw my gun through one of the window slits as I yelled “MERCY, MERCY MERCY” like a madman. If you’re up close to someone and you know you have the drop on them, yelling “mercy” is your way of giving them a free pass from getting absolutely lit up. The kid, named Killian, threw up his hands and walked out, all the while congratulating me on a good tactical maneuver. I turned to let the red team know we were in the clear when I felt the unmistakable pain of once again being shot, multiple times I might add, from close range. I turned to see a member of my own squad, hunkered down less than 20 feet away, lighting me up with blood red paint. I lifted my arm in the air to show him my red arm band and, I’ll be honest, I wanted to lift other things in the air, like a single finger from my trigger happy left hand! As I yelled “SAME TEAM” over and over again, the sheepish response I got from the 10 yr old inner city kid hidden behind his smoking barrel was, “My bad.” All sense of calm had escaped me by this point and, even though I recognized his outfit and knew he was the youngest player on the field, I bellowed, “Yeah, it was your freakin’ bad. Don’t you know what red looks like!” before I walked off in a huff. In a much calmer hindsight, a witty response from him could have included something like, “Yeah, red is the color of the paint dripping down your leg from where I lit up your 30 yr old butt!” I think my yelling kept him from thinking of anything nearly so witty, and he just say there while I sauntered off. A couple minutes later, he was out as well and we made nice when he got off the field. I found out soon thereafter, Phil had endured a similar run-in with the young Rambo. When he was reffing, the little traitor had dropped two shots right in Phil’s meaty backside from about 5 ft! Oh well, life goes on.

On the whole, it was a great event, we learned alot, and now I’m home with my wife and son, who is only 7 months but is already cruising around the house by holding himself up on things and walking. This is happening much too fast! Here’s hoping you don’t get shot in the butt today. God bless.

Last Wednesday came and went just like any other day. Sure, I was celebrating 1560 weeks of life, but it really didn’t stand out in any other way. Melissa and I dropped Jake off at a friend’s so we could grab a bite to eat like we were still careless and kid-free, but other than that, nothing really out of the ordinary. I was fine with this, as any evening hanging with my wife is time well spent, but I honestly didn’t feel like I had a birthday. The lack of a gift, which Melissa assured me would be coming in a week or so, was just one more thing to assure I would spend this day with little fanfare.

It was about this time my thoughts turned to spending the weekend with my family in Bedford, hanging out, roasting a pig, and celebrating Easter (roasting a pig seems a fitting way to celebrate the resurrection, because without the empty tomb, we’d probably be God-fearing Jews without the freedom to enjoy the wonderful awesomeness of everything pork!). Melissa, Jake and I arrived in town around 3:30 on Friday and I met Josh, my sister-in-law Lynessa and her family to head south to the boom town of Orleans to pick up the pig. When we arrived at the locker plant, we were surprised to see only about 50 lbs of meat in the hams and shoulders we’d had cut from one of the 7 pigs the family had butchered. Since we were only expecting about 30 people for the Easter shindig, we didn’t think much of it when John (brother-in-law) wouldn’t stop talking about how he really didn’t think it was enough meat. We agreed to buying a few chickens to go along with the pig, and went on our merry way, with neither Josh or myself suspecting anything out of the ordinary. We got most of the family together on Friday night for a pig roasting party at Josh’s that included burgers, homemade fries, and all sorts of other live shortening delicacies. The 4 brothers (John, James, Josh, and Joe), along with John (brother-in-law) and Shawn (friend who shoots lots of things) put the 2 hams and shoulders into our homemade roaster/smoker/grill at around 11:30 with a nice salt/brown sugar rub, and settled in for a long night. By around 4:30 AM, we’d all but thrown our arms out playing Corn Hole, the pig was steadily approaching the magic 160 degree number, and we decided to call it an evening.

Melissa and I were up before 8 to feed the boy and head over to my Dad’s to put the hinges and handles on two walnut chests he had handmade for us (two of about 15 he’s made since Christmas). While Dad and I were drilling holes and placing hinges, Melissa was upstairs working out and putting the finishing touches on the scheme she and Denise (sister-in-law) had been masterminding for weeks. There was an Easter egg hunt for the kiddos at around noon, and we were all standing around in the yard, once again throwing Corn Hole and shooting the breeze, when a long line of cars came tearing up the winding driveway from Gunsmith School Road. While Josh and I (standing side by side for the Corn Hole game) were thinking to ourselves, “Holy poop stain, Batman, now we really don’t have enough food to eat,” Melissa and Denise were yelling “SURPRISE” and grinning like two chubby kids at the candy counter. It seems the joke was on us. We had stayed up all night cooking a pig that just so happened to be the main course at a surprise birthday party for the twins (Josh and me, in case you’re a bit slow)! Melissa has made a habit of trying to surprise me, as has Denise with Josh, and this was their crowning achievement. Almost 60 people showed up, from all over the state, and we didn’t suspect a thing! Way to go, ladies!

The rest of the afternoon consisted of eating too much, laughing alot, visiting with friends, and blowing stuff up. The last of those activities was the basis for the title of this post, as the neighbor to our north (if you’re reading this “neighbor to the north,” stop being a tool!) called the coppers and told them we were setting off homemade pipe bombs, which was of course, ludicrous! It was tannerite and fireworks, two perfectly legal explosive devices that apparently make his dogs start barking, which apparently makes him start barking. As we were cleaning up and saying our goodbyes to our guests, two county sheriffs cars came blazing up the drive. Two things made this occurrence less than life changing for us. First, we’ve had the cops called on us multiple times for blowing things up. They probably have our address on speed dial for dispatch. Secondly, when they stepped out of their cars, my oldest brother, John, exclaimed, “Hey, its Justin.” Justin was not only one of the deputies strolling our way, but also a friend from high school who used to put up hay with us and hang out at the house from time to time. It sure is nice to live in a small town! They chatted for a bit, we offered them some leftover pig, they laughed at the neighbor, and thought seriously about staying to blow some more stuff up. Sadly, duty called and they headed back off to fight some real crime, and we took time as a family to sneer in the direction of the “tool of the north.” It was a tough call for us whether to continue shooting things just to spite him, or call it a day and let his poor puppies settle back down. Since Jake was taking a nap upstairs, we opted for the second and finished cleaning up.

Melissa, Jake and I headed back north after an eventful 24 hours in the homeland and spent Saturday night in Anderson and the Rielage’s. Sunday morning was a fantastic time at Bethany (where I was blessed enough to serve as youth minister for 5+ years), a fond time of wishing farewell to a friend on staff there at the church, and a great opportunity to connect with so many of those we love and don’t see nearly enough.

Life is good, my wife is awesome, and I hope your weekend was as exciting as mine. I’d write more, but I’m off to put Jake down for bed. God bless.

It’s shortly past 11 pm on the anniversary of my arrival onto this lovely planet. I was just laying in bed, chatting with my wife about gutters, houses, babies, gas, and blogging when she mentioned she had blogged already today (melandjoewisley.blogspot,com) and it dawned on me, “I’ll never have the chance to blog on my 30th birthday again.” So, even though I should be sleeping and resting my already very sore legs for my workout in the morning, I’ve decided to jot a few things down. Most are random thoughts, and might be little more interesting than watching a Doogie Howser rerun, but perhaps one will jump out and be meaningful to you. If so, feel free to post a comment. I’m all about hearing from others:

• 30 doesn’t feel as weird as I thought. I’ve got so many friends who dread this day like you’d dread having a zit for yearbook pictures. I’ve even talked with some who actually went into a mild depression getting ready for their own dance with the 4th decade. For me, it’s just another day.
• While fatherhood certainly takes away a few of the freedoms I used to enjoy, I’ve learned that having Jake in my life has made me much more comfortable with who I am. I’ve always pretty much been okay with what others thought of me, but somehow having a child has made me very unconcerned with the way others view me. I don’t mean to say I’ve stopped bathing and make a habit of farting in church or anything, but I’m just more comfortable in my own skin than I’ve ever been.
• Thus far in our marriage, Melissa and I have built and owned our own home, lived on our dream property, both worked jobs with market competitive salaries, and accumulated all that is supposed to go into the American dream. Last year we earned less than any other year in our marriage, we now live in a modular home we don’t own, on property that isn’t ours, with gutters that bang in the wind, and I drive a truck that is older than last year’s NBA MVP. It’s funny though, because in having so little compared to the life we thought we should chase, we’ve never been happier. “God, please keep us free from pursuing things that don’t matter.”
• After a couple decades of fumbling through my walk with God, and sometimes going backward more than forward, I’m finally starting to learn I can’t do anything to earn God’s love. He’s already given it, to the point of death. All I can do is spend the rest of my life trying to make sense of the enormity of His sacrifice for me while I was still doing everything I could to get away from Him. If only more people in the church could understand this walk with Christ isn’t about a set of rules that enslave us, but rather its about a God who came to set us free from slavery and the standards He gives us to live up to are about keeping us free and in a right relationship with Him.
• There are few things in life more satisfying than eating a meal with meat I was responsible for putting in the freezer, and I don’t mean because I was the one who went grocery shopping for the week. For some, this may seem foreign, barbaric, and out of style, but the level of respect I have for the food I eat that used to be running across my gun sight is much higher than the cow that was herded through a pen and taken down with a bang stick. It may be the built-in desire to provide for my family or I could just be a total tool. Whichever it is, when I hunt, my appreciation for the way God provides for us is brought into much sharper focus, and a deer steak always tastes great!
• Sometimes, I wish we’d never owned a TV. While I love watching Jack Bauer save the world, and wouldn’t give up watching football on a Sunday afternoon most of the time, I wonder how many hours of my life I’ve missed out on chances to be with my family, friends, or God because it was easier to be distracted by the talking heads. I also wonder how many times I’ve gone to be more depressed than necessary because I had to endure the first 22 minutes of the news just to get a weather report!

I could go on and on, but if I don’t post this in the next 11 minutes, I’ll have missed my birthday posting altogether. I hope you’ve had a wonderful day, and if you’ve made it to the end of this rambling, drop me a message and let me know what’s going on in your world.

Just a couple boys...living the good life

So, the month of March has been a bit of a blur for Melissa and me, as we’ve spent a week and a half in Florida on sabbatical and then 8 days in Puerto Rico. The latter trip was for a conference with Puerto Rico Christian School where I got the chance to speak 6 different times to an awesome group of JH and HS students. After the retreat was over, we spent a couple days hanging out with Craig and Lindsay Beatty, two of our favorite people, and trying to keep Jake’s pale little baby skin from turning pink like a lobster in the PR heat. All things considered, he did great, and the students at the retreat passed him around like a hot potato, all the while saying things in Spanish that I think meant they all thought he was really cute! We were blown away by how much people on the island, even complete strangers, wanted to talk to and hold Jake. He soaked it all in and we’re hoping he isn’t too bored now with just Melissa and me holding him.

Jake and all his friends at the retreat

After a great morning spent sitting around the apartment visiting and enjoying the cooler temps from the rainstorm the night before, we packed up all our stuff and headed to the airport. We made it easily through USDA and security, and found ourselves in the packed waiting area of gate A1, watching Jake sitting on the nasty floor trying to pick up whatever he could find laying around and chuck it in his mouth! We were a bit apprehensive about a 6 hour flight into Minneapolis, MN before a layover there and a quick flight back into Chicago. The apprehension didn’t get any better when we sat down on row 19, seats E and F (F was the window seat where I plopped down that didn’t have a window), and found out the guy on the aisle seat next to Mel was roughly the size of Charles Barkley 5 years after basketball and smelled a bit like I can only imagine Sir Charles’s jock strap smelled 5 years removed from basketball. He and Mel were rubbing arms even when they didn’t want to, and Jake was becoming rapidly more claustrophobic the longer he sat. Someone must have been praying hard though, as just before take-off, the stewardess came and asked the gentleman if he’d like to move to the exit row to have a bit more leg room. He, and we, happily agreed with the suggestion, and we ended up with an entire row to ourselves. Jake loved it and even went down for about 90 minutes without even fussing. He woke up just as we were flying over the top of O’Hare and grumbling about the Delta scheduling snafu that brought us within sight of our final destination but took us 5 hours out of the way to actually get us there.

Somewhere over the Caribbean

Once on the ground in Minneapolis, he let us know he wasn’t keen on the idea of being up past his bedtime, but even then he didn’t really cry. He just fussed a bit and played absentmindedly on the much cleaner floor than we’d seen earlier in the day. After a lukewarm McDonald’s value meal and some unsolicited parenting advice from a barely English speaking stewardess waiting for her flight to Vegas, we boarded our little puddle jumper commuter plane just before 10 pm. Jake finally gave in and screamed once we got on board, but it was only for about 2 minutes and then he was out like a light in my arms. On the entire 55 minute flight back to O’Hare, it felt like we were in a tin can being hit back and forth between two chubby kids swinging tennis rackets. Mel almost had a coronary from the turbulence, but Jake slept right through it until just as we were coming back below the clouds. From there until we landed, he sat quietly in my lap and stared out the window at the lights below.

Once on the ground, he sat patiently until we were back at the terminal and didn’t make a peep from there until we were back to grandma and grandpa’s. I’m sure everyone thinks their child is the best in the world, but I’ve never seen a 6 1/2 month old be so well behaved during 8+ hours on a plane ride. He was a real trooper and we’re so glad to have such a happy and content little boy.

March was such a busy month and, even though we were all over the country, it was great to have Jake with us the whole time and to be able to continue seeing him grow and develop.

My two favorite people in the world!

I drug myself out of bed this morning to the sound of Jake giggling downstairs and the ocean breeze blowing through the palms surrounding our corral pink stuccoed condo on Anna Maria Island, FL. We’re here for 10 days on sabbatical/vacation, and have thoroughly enjoyed the break from the gloomy and brown Hoosier state. I shuffled down the stairs, grabbed a cup of coffee, and watched Jake perform his newest trick. He now shakes his head back and forth when he sees others do the same. It might not seem like much, but at 6 months, it’s a pretty cool step. At around 8:30, my father-in-law, Bob, and my future brother-in-law, Ben, climbed into our Nissan Quest and we headed off for Ace Hardware for some rubber gloves, a dowel rod, and a 5 gallon bucket. We’ve all got a bit of the fishing bug and the most common and best eating fish around here is called a Sheep’s Head and they love munching on Oyster Crabs. We had a good lead on where to find some and had heard the best way to catch them is to find an oyster bed, lift up the oyster shell clusters, poke the crabs with a stick, and plop them into a bucket with some water and shells in it. On the way out of the store, we asked some of the cranky old men working there if they knew of a good place on the island to get a donut. They grumbled their best old man grumble and recommended the grocery store nearby. We decided to ask the lady at the cash register the same question and she said there was a little place down the street called Paradise Cafe with great pastries and even better coffee.

We ambled in to the cafe and saw two rather plump old ladies behind a weather beaten sign that said “Never Trust a Skinny Cook.” Based upon that advice and their flabby grandma arms, we knew we were in the right place! We each had a blueberry muffin, hot out of the oven, and a great cup of coffee. Refills were free until the 12th cup (who really drinks that much coffee?), but we were itching to catch crabs (yes, I considered rewording that sentence, but opted to leave it that way), and we headed back to the Quest. 45 minutes, several aimless walks around some mangrove swamps, and more than once having to pry my ankles loose from the muck in the bay while the in-law and future in-law stood and laughed, we still hadn’t found any crabs. On the verge of giving up and helplessly asking some toothless fishermen for help, ole Bob came through in the clutch and led us through a twisting, turning, banjo music filled swamp and into a mucky oyster bed with more crabs than a Woodstock Reunion. Ben and I respectfully turned over the shells and poked around for Sheep’s Head bait while Bob the Crab Machine dashed the oyster clumps against the rocks and giggled maniacally as they shattered and the little crustaceans dove for cover. After about an hour, we had several dozen in the bottom of our bucket and headed back to the condo to enjoy the pool.

Once back, I enjoyed the sight of my bikini clad wife and son (he didn’t have a bikini) next to the pool trying to stay out of the wind which still has quite a bite to it in spite of the 70 degree temps. Jake was a bit fussy, so I grabbed him and bounced him in the edge of the pool for a bit. Just as the couple in the condo next to us were sitting down across the pool and smiling at the sight of daddy and son, Jake looked down from his position above my head and puked all over my face, neck, chest, and stomach! I’ve been puked on lots of times before, but he just started solids this week so the taste of green beans, bananas, and stomach acid spilling down my throat was almost more than I could handle. It was apparently too much for our neighbors to handle too without laughing their faces off, but they were at least sympathetic as they shook until their lounge chairs were creaking! Oh well, I’ve had worse, and at least it made the little guy feel better.

I’m now puke free and sitting on the patio next to the pool with my computer. We’re headed to the Rod and Reel Pier in about an hour to use up our bait and see it we can catch some dinner. I hope you’re having a good one and, even if the sun’s not out, I hope you have a sunny day! God bless and take joy in the little things.

As I sit here in my easy chair, fighting off the chill from our single pane windows with my grandma’s old comforter wrapped snugly around myself, I’m taking joy in the little things like watching Wheel of Fortune and listening to my little boy coo his heart out. Life is good. Jake has a new obsession with sucking on any type of cloth he can find…bibs, shirts, blankets, towels, whatever. I find it rather cute, but my sweet wife finds it revolting. She has a strange aversion to cotton against her teeth and seeing Jake happily chewing his bath towel covered in ducks is almost more than she can handle. It makes me think about the strange things that freak some of us out but don’t bother others in the slightest. Here’s another one:

I read alot and sometimes when I’m turning a page my fingernails will scrape against the paper. For some reason, it makes me shudder and want to stop reading almost everytime. Since I am given to fits of insanity, I will invariably become distracted by the thought and feeling of scraping the stupid page over and over again. Sometimes it leads to thoughts of another paper related faux pas of mine and I can’t get the idea of deep manilla envelope paper cuts between my fingers out of my head. I hate even writing about it and my fingers are tingling nervously as I type.

I could go on an on about things that make me cringe. Seeing someone turn an ankle on TV; hearing a fork scrape against a plate; thinking about biting my tongue off (strange, I know); thinking about having a splinter shoved under my toenails; thinking about shutting my finger in a car door; and the list goes on and on. So, I’ll put it to you: Do you have anything like chewing on socks or scraping a paper with your fingernail that really bugs you and gets under your skin? If so, tell the world all about it.

Before I go, here are a couple more recent pictures of Jake, who has apparently decided 7 pm is his fussy time of the day.

I know many read this blog, and due to the Appalachian Trail info, many of the readers are from around the world. As such, I feel right now is an appropriate time to use it as a means of letting everyone know about the daily trials and successes of my dear friend Tina Isenhower, who is being used in amazing ways, serving as a missionary to the people of Haiti. This is the 2nd email update of hers I am passing along and will continue to do so in the coming days. If you have questions about how you can help, please feel free to respond here on the post or at joe.wisley@rainbowcamp.org.

 

FROM TINA ISENHOWER 

January 18, 2010

      Dad, a couple of my workers, and I went into Jacmel today to look for food to buy.  We were able to find some.  But it took us all day.  We were not able to find what we needed to feed the kids all in one place.  We could not find more than a couple 100 lb. bags of rice or beans at any one place.  But we are thankful that we were able to make 4 trips to town today with food.

     Dad and I went to the hospital today to visit people.  We still have no foreign aid or Doctors at the hospital.  People are still sleeping outside because the hospital is so damaged.    Everyone has a story of how they survived or of people that they have lost.

     The lady with the fractured arm still hasn’t had it amputated.  Her flesh is literally rotting off and there is nothing worse than smelling rotten flesh except burning flesh.

     The little baby who is about 26 days old is barely hanging on.  They can not find oxygen for him.  His grandma was holding him and tears was running down his mother’s face.  This is their first child.  The only thing the Haitian Doctors and Cuban doctors can do it give him IV’s to keep him hydrated and hope help will arrive soon.

     I am so overwhelmed I do not know what to do.  I feel exhausted mentally and physically.  It is hard to sleep.  When I close my eyes I keep seeing images of demolished buildings, dead people laying on the street, and faces of little children.  We are still experiencing tremors from the earthquake almost daily.  People are still sleeping in the streets and in open lots.

Tomorrow is another day of service for the King.  I pray God will lead me to the people who need it the most.  I am trying to access the damage done to my workers homes, but the saddest thing is that I haven’t found a family yet who has not lost someone in the earthquake either in Jacmel or Port-au-Prince. 

     I am so thankful to have my parents and Linda Roller here right now helping me.  Dad and I go out in search of food to buy to give to the people while Mom and Linda sort and repackage it, getting it ready to distribute.

 

January 19, 2010

     Today Dad and I got up at 5:00 a.m. and went to Marigot where the merchant ships come in 2 times a week to sell in bulk to businesses.  We were not able to get rice or beans but we were able to flour, sugar, oil, fish, and salami.  We were very thankful!  This took most of the morning.  It still amazes me how God has been providing for us.

     We got almost all of our staple items in 100lb bags.  Mom and Linda Roller and the little girls who are staying with us temporarily, repackaged all the food we have gotten so far into smaller packages to give away. 

     Dad and I went back to Jacmel to try and find more beans and rice.  We didn’t make it back until around 3:00 p.m.  I was exhausted.  I went straight to bed and slept for a couple of hours. 

     I did not go to the hospital today because I just couldn’t handle it emotionally.

     Tomorrow is a new day.

January 20, 2010

Between 5:30 a.m. and 6:00 a.m. this morning my dogs and all the other dogs started howling.  The first thought that ran thru my mind was someone else has died in the area, but then the whole house started shaking again.  I jumped out of bed and was met in the hallway by Rachel, LeeLein (her friend), and Linda.  I ran to check on Mom and Dad and Rachel and LeeLein ran to check on the little girls.  I heard Rachel calling them.  She said why did you stay in your room, Jeanette(9 years old) told her the only thing we knew to do was get on our knees on our bed and pray.   

    So our day began early again.  I helped distribute some food from our mission house to employees and people in our area who needed it. 

     Mom and Linda finished packing up the food boxes with the help of our littlest house guests.

     I felt so overwhelmed today that I snuck off by myself and went to the hospital.  I was very excited to see that the Canadian Army had arrived the night before and had started putting up hospital tents to protect the people from the rain and sun.  The Doctors were trying to do what they could.  Some of the platoon was sorting supplies but still waiting on other supplies to arrive.  I talked to them a little bit and offered to translate for them if they needed me.  They said they were in good shape for right now but wanted to keep in touch with me, so I gave them my cell phone number.

     I was sad to learn the little boy who needed oxygen died right before they arrived.  I saw another baby about a month old and talked to her mother.  The mother told me the little girl was only 15 days old when the earthquake hit.  Her mom put her on her bed and went outside to get water.  When the earthquake hit she ran to get her baby and saw her house crumble before her.  She was devastated.  She thought her baby was dead.  Eight days later later when they started removing the rubble, they found the baby still on the bed and alive!!!!  Her Mom said she was a gift from God and she had to have a Bible name.  She named her Elizabeth.  The baby was barely breathing but she was put on IV’s and the only other thing wrong with her is her private areas had diaper rash because there was no one to change her.  This story brought tears to my eyes.

     I talked to a lady whose sister and 8 month old baby girl were pulled from a collapsed house.  The baby has severe head injuries and a broken leg.  I am hoping the baby will make it now that the Canadian Army is here.  The mother is not doing well either.  The Aunt is staying with the baby.

     Every where I look there are injured people.  What is hardest for me to handle is the children.  I saw a 4 year old today and he also had severe head injuries as well as several broken bones.  He also was in a house that collapsed.

    I am so thankful to have my parents and Linda here helping me right now.  They are a big blessing.   Tomorrow we are expecting around 1,500 children to feed.

January 21, 2010

     Today all of us got up early and went to the school by 6:00 a.m. to help get food ready since we were feeding extra children and adults.      I was in town (Jacmel) by 8:00 a.m. with Dad and Linda looking for spoons and bowls.  We were not very successful.  We had so many children we did not have room for them.  We gave out tickets so we wouldn’t have a mob.  Everything went well until a little after 12 noon.  Another tremor hit and moved cafeteria tables and other furniture in the school.  I thought we were having another earthquake.  Everyone ran outside.  Food went everywhere in the kitchen and Linda got knocked down by people trying to run out of the building.  Thankfully she just hurt her leg and her injuries were not more serious.  While we were all gathered in the yard about 10 minutes later, another tremor came thru.    Everyone ran out into the road.

     I decided not to feed the kids at school any more because we are still having bad tremors.  We gave out tickets again and tomorrow we will give everyone rice, beans, oil, canned herring and other food items to cook at their house. 

     Supplies are running low in Jacmel.  It is very difficult to find rice. 

     I came home played with the little girls who are staying with us, ate, and then I was finally able to get a couple hours sleep today and woke up less tired and my mind is a little clearer.

     I think at least 75% of the schools we had in jacmel have now been destroyed or damaged to the point they need to come down and be rebuilt.

     Many of you have asked what is needed.  I am still accessing everything.  After the bad tremors we have had this week we have even more damage.  Houses that were damaged before are no longer standing and houses that were not damaged are now damaged.  We all feel like we can’t even start cleaning up because you start and then a tremor goes thru and you have more damage.

      I was happy to see that the Canadian Army and other organizations gave out pup tents.  So now the people who are sleeping outside and in the streets have something to keep the rain off of them.

     I am overwhelmed by the prayers and e-mails we have received.  I will try to get to everyone’s e-mails as soon as I can.

God Bless

Tina Isenhower

Missionary to Haiti

Many of you may know I traveled to Haiti with a team from camp last spring and spent some time working on building a church camp about 40 miles south of Port au Prince, near Jacmel, on the south coast of the island. We stayed with a lady named Tina, who was also our missionary out at camp this summer. She grew up in Indiana but has lived in Haiti over 25 years, building a school for over 1000 kids, starting churches, and changing the world. She’s done all this while being almost blind due to some nearly lethal anti-malaria meds she was given when she first arrived. She was in PAP during the earthquake and I wanted to post her story of the first few days. It is long and hastily written, but well worth the read. Please take time to read this and pray God continues to use her in amazing ways. The picture below shows Gerard Eustache, a wonderful man who lost his home and about 15 people in his church.

Gerard and me, talking into the night @ Tina's