My collection of earthquake stories, pictures and video.
Blog Posts
Earthquake (written 1-14-2010)
Late Tuesday afternoon, I was sitting on my veranda reading The Cost of Discipleship by Dietrich Bonhoeffer. The girls were in the courtyard below doing homework and playing. Normally, I would have been down with them leading the afternoon game or activity, but I wasn’t feeling well.
A small tremor and a rumbling came creeping in around us and I knew instantly it was an earthquake. I could see the girls were frightened, so I yelled down, “Don’t worry. It’s just an earthquake.” But this was not just an earthquake. I was about to say it will stop soon, but I realized it wasn’t stopping soon. I reached the landing to my steps and grabbed the railing. The earth lurched several times, leapt a few feet to the left, dropped about a foot and snapped back into place. I watched the security wall spill into the compound. All with the roars and booms of Judgment Day.
For a split second I thought the Lord had called me home. And that my earthly toil was done. The water tank on my roof burst and soaked me to the skin. Then above the dying roar I heard Ti Debbie, a three year-old orphan, screaming. And I knew my work wasn’t done.
I rushed down the stairs and snatched her up. All the other girls had fled leaving her alone amid falling debris. I ran out of the compound with her and began calling the other girls. One of the nannies helped me gather all of them together. We stood in the street away from walls and power lines. And we began to sing and pray.
An eerie quiet settled around us. A few neighbors came by and asked if we were okay. Freddie, the assistant manager of the orphanage arrived within minutes and helped calm the girls. I will never forget the sheer terror in the girls’ eyes. Most of the little ones wanted to be held. I did the best I could. Aftershocks started hitting and every time you just had to wonder how strong it was going to be.
After a couple of hours a neighbor allowed us to put the girls in his cornfield that is catty corner to the orphanage. We began the set up camp. I dashed into my room grabbed five gallons of water and some crackers for the girls.
At about 7pm a work team arrived. Four Americans had flown in just before the quake and were loading the van when it happened. Angelo, the orphanage manager was them. They described a scene of horror on the drive from the airport. I had been so focused on the girls that I had hardly thought of what had happened elsewhere. I started to realize the scope of the disaster.
At 10pm Angelo, Freddie and I entered the orphanage. We retrieved some more supplies and medicines. I laid down at about 11:30pm on a tarp in the cornfield next to my girls. I could hear bulldozers wailing as they cleared rubble. Dogs wailed. Roosters wailed. Mothers, fathers, sisters and brothers wailed. I saw eight shooting stars. I did not sleep until 6:30pm on the 13th.
We are all safe and have plenty of food and clean water. We have spent the bulk of the last two days clearing debris, fixing pipes and seeing to the girls’ needs. We are still sleeping in the field, because of aftershocks. We hope our builder will be able to reinforce the one column of the house that was damaged. Our well, pump and generator were undamaged. Most, if not all, of our staff members lost their homes. We’ve seen no looting or rioting. Everyone around here has been very kind, even giving food to the children.
I was pleased to learn that my friend Brisenault and his wife and daughter are fine. I haven’t heard from my friend Lenet he was visiting family in a rural town. The “grannies” in our feeding program all lost their homes. And we learned today one may have been killed.
Today, Paul and I wrote, “Ps. 46” on the roof in duct tape. Because we want anyone flying over to know that:
“God is our refuge and strength, an ever-present help in trouble. Therefore we will not fear, though the earth give way and the mountains fall into the heart of the sea, though its waters roar and foam and the mountains quake with their surging.” Psalm 46:1-3
Day 4 (written 1-16-2010)
We are still sleeping in the field because Angelo won't trust the house until some work is done on it. High winds today blew down our shelter, so we spent a while rebuilding it. Now, we've decided to move to a empty lot right next to the orphanage. We're clearing it and will move there tomorrow. It will be better for security, sanitation and shade.
Paul and I thought the girls could some fun. We filled two big tubs with water. Brought over the girls in groups and let them splash each other. They loved it.
A very busy day. But a good day. Still no signs of unrest, rioting or looting. Everyone is nice. We have food and water. Please keep praying. This is going to be a long road for Haiti
Back in the States (written 1-20-2010)
Sunday was the most surreal day of my life. Angelo convinced me that it was in the girls’ best interest that I leave. An American presence could draw unwanted attention if the security situation worsened. The members of the work team and I went to the airport on the morning of the 17th. We were planning on getting information and possibly locating missionary pilots who could fly us out.
We walked out on the tarmac and it looked like a warzone. Blackhawks were taking off. Planes from almost every country were offloading supplies. Soldiers were marching. An unusual feeling crept over me. I was staring at history.
We searched for the missionary pilots, but could not find them. I was about to have everyone return to the orphanage. But out of nowhere a man approached us. He asked us who we were and asked if we needed a plane. It seems a millionaire was allowing his private plane to be used for humanitarian aid. The plane had just dropped off a surgical team from the University of Miami and they didn’t want to return empty. We decided to go for it.
When I entered the plane I was stuck dumb. It was something out of the “lifestyles of the rich and famous.” None of us could believe what we were seeing. As we were waiting to load a few more passengers, Geraldo Rivera pops in. He said, “Flying first class, huh? It’s a reward for serving the Lord.” Then he was gone. We later looked up the name of the man who owns the plane and discovered he is a former drug lord.
An hour and 35 minutes later we landed in Fort Lauderdale. We hopped a cab with a Haitian driver and hurried to Miami International where Carl had arranged a flight to St. Louis.
I was out of Haiti, but my heart remained.
Interviews
Read an article from KMOV Channel 4 in St. Louis here.
Video from KSDK Channel 5 in St. Louis here.
Video
Pictures
1-12-2010
1-13-2010
1-14-2010
1-15-2010
1-16-2010
1-17-210
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