Thursday, April 29, 2010

XRay Project Status


This woodsy-looking groundcover on our front yard berm is barrenwort, also called "bishop's hat," named (I would guess) after the shape of the leaves.

Received on the xray project so far: $3,212. We are one-third of the way to significantly raising the standard of health care on this small island. At the drop of a hat and a hundred bucks you and I could drive right now to a med station for a chest xray and antibiotic. Most people on La Gonave would have to walk many hours or days to the only hospital on that island, and even there they currently have no xray should one be required.



Sunday, April 25, 2010

XRay Project Status

You never know where the next white trillium will show up in our garden.

Question... what is the plural of trillium?
a. trilliums
b. trillia
c. trilliae
d. trillii
(answer below)

As of today we have collected $1,162 toward the mission hospital xray. $10,500 total is needed. Thanks for helping us chip away. Many hands make light work, as they say.

Answer: I have no idea.

Friday, April 23, 2010

XRay Project Status



It is not every year that our Andromedae bloom this profusely. This is a good year.

Received so far: $560

Tuesday, April 20, 2010

XRay Project Status

Received so far: $510


The bleeding hearts are in full bloom around the yard right now. Too bad they don't bloom like this all Summer.

Monday, April 19, 2010

Progress


These purple trillium (or should I say purple trillii) are in bloom right now. Not nearly as abundant as the white trillium out there but they're kind of cool. If you look closely you can see the ostrich ferns emerging in the background.

I have been putting in lots of work on Starfysh these past few days. Things are moving forward (necessarily slowly right now). Slowly but surely. I cannot wait until all the organizational work is done so that we can move forward on helping people. I know I've been saying the website will be done soon, and it will. I met again with the webmaster and we are making good progress on that.

I'm not receiving many donations on the xray project right now, but that's because I haven't been beating the drum much since I first posted the need. It will come.

Saturday, April 17, 2010

XRay Project Status

I have been asked to put the donate button back up for the XRay project, so I have.

Received so far $460.








The Round-Lobed Hepatica is now in bloom in my woods. (I am thinking it is called "hepatica" because the leaves are lobed... like the liver).

Friday, April 16, 2010

Ancora Imparo

This is Bloodroot, another early-Spring, brief-blooming flower in my woodland garden.











"The harder I work, the behinder I get."
(refrigerator magnet)

There is an interesting phenomenon in medical learning, and it applies to every field of study. Is is simply this: the more I learn, the more I find there is to learn and the more I realize how little I truly know. Have you ever felt this way? As if I had a chance at knowing everything there is to know in the field of medicine, it doesn't help knowing that the world's fund of scientific knowledge doubles every five years. I will never ever arrive at a point of completing the learning process. The magnet is right.

In her book, Pilgrim at Tinker Creek, Annie Dillard likewise spoke of being overwhelmed:
"I reel in confusion: I don't understand what I see. With the naked eye I can see two million light-years to the Andromeda galaxy. Often I slop some creek water in a jar and when I get home I dump it in a white china bowl. After the silt settles I return and see tracings of minute snails on the bottom, a planarian or two winding round the rim of water roundworms shimmying frantically, and finally, when my eyes have adjusted to these dimensions, amoebae. At first the amoebae look like muscae volitantes, those curled moving spots you seem to see in your eyes when you stare at a distant wall. Then I see the amoebae as drops of water congealed, bluish, translucent, like chips of sky in the bowl. At length I choose one individual and give myself over to its idea of an evening. I see it dribble a grainy foot before it on its wet, unfathomable way. Do its unedited sense impressions include the fierce focus of my eyes? Shall I take it outside and show it Andromeda, and blow its little endoplasm? I stir the water with a finger, in case it's running out of oxygen. Maybe I should get a tropical aquarium with motorized bubblers and lights, and keep this one for a pet. 'Yes,' it would tell its fissioned descendants, 'the universe is two feet by five, and if you listen closely you can hear the buzzing music of the spheres.'"

I sometimes wonder... do we, in our Christian journey, allow ourselves to become mental amoebae, preserving our endoplasm at the expense of missing galaxies of Truth? Paul's endoplasm must have been bubbling when he exclaimed, "Oh, the depth of the riches of the wisdom and knowledge of God! How unsearchable his judgements, and his paths beyond tracing out!"(Romans 11:33). A fitting paraphrase might be "O Lord my God, when I in awesome wonder consider all the worlds Thy hands have made..." Overwhelmed we shout "How great Thou art!," resigning to the futility of defining just how great He actually is. Our exclamation point will just have to suffice for now.

The paradox is this: more information exasperates us. Our senses become numb. We plop down in a heap of mental exhaustion. Acknowledging the impossibility of knowing everything, we give up the pursuit of knowing anything. We lead submissive lives, passively waiting for the scraps tossed our way, settling for whatever email forwards are sent to us, whatever the TV networks decide to air, and whatever sermons or Sunday School lessons others decide for us we need to hear.

The all-too-common response, then, is to throw up our hands in surrender. Disillusioned, we stop learning, demoting discipleship from a required course to an elective one in the curriculum of faith. "If God's paths are untraceable," we say, "why risk getting lost?" We stay home, rationalizing our complacency by concluding that learning earns us no brownie points. Entrance to Heaven does not depend on our Jeopardy performance. (I'll take "Pearly Gates" for $1000, Alex). And if it does not make a difference, why stress over knowing something we can never fully comprehend anyway? If we don't work harder, we won't get behinder, we conclude our logic.

We settle, becoming spiritual lazybones, shifting our spiritual weight from one buttock to the other, trading in discovery for familiarity. "Aha!" for "Ho-hum."

Where does all this leave us then? On one hand we have a God who, despite all our striving, can never be comprehended. Faith is, for us, too wonderful and mysterious to be fully understood. Attempting to do so, on the other hand, seems only to magnify the difference between us and God . . . .

. . . Ah... now I see! Learning more of God and His ways is not a threat to His omni's. In discovering truths about God, we do not, as Richard Dawkins suggests, scientifically chip away at His mystery as if we could eventually reduce it to some sort of divine formula.

To the contrary! Discovery leads us, not away from worship, but to it! It did Galileo. Upon discovering the moons of Jupiter, he penned the following words in his journal: "I render infinite thanks to God for being so kind as to make me alone the first observer of marvels kept hidden in obscurity for all previous centuries."

Discovery humbles us and elevates our estimation of the Creator. The more we learn, the greater we realize God to be, and the more properly we can see ourselves in contrast to Him. "Learning is therefore a spiritual calling" says Cornelius Plantinga. "Properly done, it attaches us to God." (Engaging God's World--A Christian Vision of Faith, Learning, And Living). Frances Collins, Director of the National Human Genome Research Institute, which recently completed the colossal task of identifying all of the 3,000,000,000 letters of the human DNA code, voiced it well. "For me," he said, "scientific discovery is also an occasion of worship."

The words discovery and disciple have the same Latin backbone, discere, which simply means "to learn." Learning, for the follower of Christ, is neither elective nor optional. Disciples are, by definition, learners... people with lifestyles of proactive, intentional discovery. Always alert and searching, ears perked, eyes wide open. Fact is, we are students and, as followers of Christ, we will always be students. Students of faith, learners of truth.

"Ancora imparo," remarked Michelangelo, then 87 years old. "I am still learning." A fitting modus operandi for every serious follower of Christ. Active, intentional learning is the essential lifestyle of all who would follow Him.

Thursday, April 15, 2010

The Problem of Mystery

These woodland flowers, Trout Lilies, are plentiful in my garden and woods right now.

"Can you fathom the mysteries of God? Can you probe the limits of the Almighty? They are higher than the heavens--what can you do? They are deeper than the depths of the grave--what can you know? Their measure is longer than the earth and wider than the sea." Job 11:7-9

Atheist Richard Dawkins contends that "the ultimate goal of science is to remove all mystery." I sometimes wonder, have we similarly reduced our faith journey to a mere discipline of study, as if by adding to our fund of observations and insights about God, we will eventually nail it? God now just another notch in our intellectual belt, one more mystery solved? Is it possible that the study of God, though earnest and sincere, might chip away at His infinity? Mystery annoys Dawkins, legitimating, for him, the role of science. For Dawkins, everything that can be known, must be.

What is our problem with mystery? Have we bought in to science's presumption that mystery must go?

We have become uneasy with mystery. Suspect of it, even. "Freedom of information!" we cry, citing our rights. Once given the facts, we then think "What aren't you telling us?" exposing a certain suspiciousness behind our questions. Mystery has become, for us, sinister and untrustworthy. We have made it so. And it is this sinisterization of mystery that has led us to agree with Dawkins' assertion that mystery is the enemy.

For the person of faith, however, mystery is not bad. I find myself agreeing with Leonard Sweet when he says, "If all you can trust and have faith in is the God you can comprehend and understand, then who are you worshiping?" (Soul Salsa)

Where does this leave mystery, then, for those who believe in God? Do we regard mystery as a tolerable necessity of faith, meekly accepting it as the way it is, neither objecting to it nor extolling it? Not knowing what to do, have we sent mystery to the time-out chair for awhile while we figure out what to do with it?

And if we promote mystery from neutral status (a facet of faith we see merely as unobjectionable) to a position of esteem (a celebrated tenet of faith), we must ask ourselves, what is the role of discovery in the journey of faith? Is the very endeavor counter to what we have just said is axiomatic to our faith? If so, dare we strive to know more?

On the other hand, what is intrinsically wrong with wanting to solve mystery? Is our opinion of God affected by how much we know about Him? "We live by faith, not by sight," we are told (2Cor. 5:7). But can sight influence faith?

And where does this leave us, knowing that our tiny, finite minds can never grasp all that is true about God? What can be known about Him and does He want us to know it? Might God melt under the heat lamp of human scrutiny, lessened just a bit with every piece of evidence revealed? Is God sweating it out, worried that we will someday have him pegged? If not... if God is beyond measure, dare we try to measure Him?

Or does God, in fact, want us to know more?

Tuesday, April 13, 2010

Island Hospital Video

I have just posted some raw, unedited video footage that I took during my most recent visit to Haiti. It will give you a sense of what it is like to just walk through it. (I know, I am a poor videographer, I don't know how to edit, and I won't win any YouTube prizes either).

Keep in mind, folks... this is the only hospital on this island. It's all they've got right now. If you're interested in helping me with one facet of raising their level of care (xray capability), go to my previous (April 12th) post. Thanks. view video

Monday, April 12, 2010

Update and a Plea


Update on STARFYSH...
Although we do not expect to receive official non-profit designation until later in the year, I am excited that in the very near future we will FINALLY be able to publicly launch STARFYSH. The formation has been, at the same time fun and tedious as we walk the good and necessary path of defining for everyone (including ourselves) just what it is we feel God is calling us to do. I tend to want to sprint to next steps, but have in this process learned the virtues of patience and pace. Exercising restraint is tough, especially when great things are just around the corner. Having said this....

Plea...
We have identified and defined several worthy (and strategic) projects with which we will launch STARFYSH. Pressing needs, most of them. One, however, I believe could be met very quickly if folks out there are impressed to help...

There is a small mission hospital on the island of La Gonave, in Haiti (It's the hospital I have gone to work at over the past 20 years or so). It is the only hospital available to the 100,000 people on the island, but the hospital is in severe need. As I type, most patients are cared for in military tents that were provided following the earthquake (see photo). Even though the hospital building did not collapse there are concerning cracks throughout and tremors continue to be felt. Thankfully, a non-profit in Scotland has laid plans to rebuild the hospital. This is a blessing, but this will, of course take time to complete.

In the meantime there are serious deficits in their abilities to give care, one of which is a functioning xray. As some of you know, about a dozen years ago I oversaw the effort to get their current xray facility, so for me this has sort of come around full circle. The bottom line is, they need xray and they need it quickly. No hospital, even in Haiti, can function well without it. Life-saving and limb-saving care depends on accurate diagnosis and fact is, without xray, patient care is severely compromised.

OK so here I go again.... we've researched it and can get a new xray unit delivered and installed fairly quickly. World Medical Mission, the medical arm of Samaritan's Purse, has a gentleman (Bill Wright) whose expertise and life calling is the installation of appropriate xray equipment in third-world mission hospitals. How's that for specific? Bill said he would put on his docket as soon as we can give him the call. (I have known Bill for a long time... he is the guy who installed the original xray 12 years ago).

Bottom line... $10,500 will do the job of getting a respectable level of diagnostic capabilities for the hospital.... remember, the only hospital for 100,000 precious people.

Know that I am a bit nervous about throwing out this plea so soon after you all came through in magnanimous fashion for the tarps project. And if this one is too soon, or not for you, that's cool. I just know (from experience) that there's always somebody (or somebodies) out there that a need like this will resonate with.

You can send it to either me, Steve Edmondson, or Starfysh. Full disclosure though, Starfysh has not yet received 501(c)3 status yet and so I cannot yet assure the deductibility of your gift.

Send to: 3725 Oak Creek Court SE Grand Rapids, Michigan 49546

As with the tarps effort (500 now-dry Haitian families!), I will keep you all posted on our progress. Also, if you feel comfortable spreading the word about this in your networks....

Thanks, all, for your patience and long-suffering with me. I know I must sound a little (or a lot) whiney at times, but oh well... when people are hurting, we are a bit more apt to swallow our pride.... And man do I have a big lump in my throat.

Love you all.
Steve

Sunday, April 11, 2010

Helleborus: First Flowers of Michigan Spring



Peripheral Vision

Helleborus, the first flower to bloom at my place every Spring.

I saw a strange sight the other day. Driving along, I had to slow down for a squirrel in the middle of the road. Somehow he had managed to poke its head through the bottom of a Styrofoam cup. In doing so, it had unwittingly shut out the visual input from every direction except straight ahead. Loss of peripheral vision had created a dangerous paralysis, despite perfect vision straight ahead. I slowed my car as I went around him, and as I traveled on down the road I could still see him in my rearview, paralyzed and trembling.

Only a very tiny area of the retina, the fovea (where "cones" are concentrated), deals with crisp resolution and focus. The vast majority of the retina is comprised of predominantly "rods" which are 1000 times more sensitive to light than cones and therefore are much better motion detectors. This explains why we are quick to see movement in our peripheral vision. Deer hunters know this. So do deer.

Much is said about focus, I suppose as should be. Scripture is chock full of reminders to "fix our gaze" and to "keep our eyes on the prize." A lot of books about business and about the Christian life deal a lot with foveal, cone-dominant, central-vision issues: focus, purpose, core-values, etc.

But is it possible that, in a world full of human need, God might have created our peripheral vision for a purpose? And might it be possible for us to focus too much on focus, while ignoring the needs off to the periphery of our comfortable, familiar, and safe lives?

Funny how a squirrel and a styrofoam cup can give me a headache.

Thursday, April 08, 2010

The Poverty of Too Much

I am rather irreverent to the books I read. I dog-ear. I underline. I write comments in the margin. I draw arrows from one phrase to another on the page. Someday when I'm gone and somebody goes through the books I've read, they're going to think I was half nuts. (Wait, did I say half?).

You can generally tell which books impact me the most by looking at how much I have marked them up. Just this week I finished such a book, entitled, "Hope Lives - A Journey of Restoration," by Amber Van Schooneveld. Here are a couple of paragraphs from her book that received such markings...

"I am in the greatest poverty," she says, "a poverty of my soul, when I eat my fill and lounge on my couch, while thinking only fleetingly of others not as materially blessed as I have been. My poverty is real when my love is deadened, medicated, frozen by too much. And my soul is maybe in even more danger than those in the poverty of too little."

She continues on...
"I am no great emissary kindly bringing restoration to those people. No. I am simply a fellow human, given a different responsibility and role to play on this earth. God placed me where I am, and he placed others where they are. The goal isn't for others to become like me, a wealthy American. The goal is simply for everyone to have enough. Those in poverty need enough--enough food each day, enough clean water to lead a healthy life, enough dignity to be the masterpiece God created them to be. And for me, straying closer to the poverty of too much, I need to move further back toward enough, to use what I have been given to help lift others toward enough, to use my resources to love as Jesus loved."

Wednesday, April 07, 2010

On Compassion

I've come to the conclusion that this compassion business is tricky.

You see, I give lip-service to being kindhearted, yet I avoid eye contact with most panhandlers in my path. I walk right on by the elderly Haitian man sitting on the side of the road, hoping he doesn't notice the water bottle in my hip pocket. And to the kid who asks me for my shoes I answer, "No, m' pa kapab," knowing full well that's a lie, that I've got another pair in the house.

Why don't I do what Jesus so clearly commands me to do? Isn't there wisdom to the notion of not fostering a sense dependency or entitlement in those we would help? And what about the societal evils that put the guy there? Shouldn't we, instead, concentrate our efforts on addressing the larger issues of poverty? I am torn. On one hand my heart breaks for the tent people, soggy from the rain. On the other, what long term solution is there in just handing them a tarp? On one hand, I feel for the dirt-poor family that can nowhere near afford the $180 per year to send their child to school. On the other hand, so I help a kid go to school... what happens next year, and the next?

Yet I feel com-passion... I "suffer with" these people. I have rather absorbed their pain. And I say to myself, if I were the one sitting along side the dusty road, and I hadn't eaten in several days, and I saw a guy with a water bottle in his back pocket, I'd beg too. "M' vle dlo," I'd say. "I want water." In that moment, you don't fret about who or what is the blame for your thirst.

So you just give the guy some water. And you sneak him some of your food hoping no one's watching. Because at the end of the day, he's not thinking about the societal evils that put him in his vulnerable position. He just wants a drink of water. He just wants some beans and rice.

I think Princess Diana said it well : "You can't comfort the afflicted without afflicting the comfortable." (OK, OK you theologians, so it's not C.S. Lewis). Well, I am "afflicted" and conflicted. I wrestle with what's right and what's not. Maybe one day I'll figure it out, but I doubt it. In the meantime, I'll keep sharing my food and handing out tarps and making my mistakes along the way. After all, one learns to swim by diving in, not by reading a book about swimming. I'll start with the dog-paddle and progress to freestyle and I'm sure I'll suck water through my nose into my cranium plenty of times. I may be a slow learner, but I will learn to swim.

Tuesday, April 06, 2010

The Reveal

For a long time now I have been going back and forth to Haiti, doing my thing, mainly at a little mission hospital in a fairly remote region of that country. Sometimes taking teams. Sometimes going by myself. Sometimes taking one of my kids. Over that time I've taken on several projects for the hospital. Some small and a few bigger ones.

Lately, though, I've been wrestling. For whatever reason I have not felt at ease with the status quo as it pertains to my level of involvement and I've shared a couple times before in earlier blogs how frustrated I am (with myself) that I don't have a good way to say yes to people when they offer me a hand in my work in Haiti.

But for the past six months now, I've have finally brought myself to do more than whine about it. After much prayer and counsel, I have raised the stakes of my commitment to make a difference in Haiti by creating a structure that will enable me to leverage the human resources that God is making so available to me.

On February 3, 2010, articles of incorporation were filed with the State of Michigan, an official document that put flesh on the skeleton of my conviction that there is a vast untapped resource of good people, compassionate and kind-hearted, just itching to give and to do. And waiting for the ask.

Since then, a board of directors has been meeting. Bylaws have been established and volumes of paperwork are near completion, pursuing 501(c)3 non-profit designation, a determination that the IRS will take many months to render.

While we await non-profit status, we will be busy assembling a network of team members, people and agencies in both the US and in Haiti to collaborate in efforts that, by themselves, neither person nor agency could pull off. We are excited that much of that team is already in place.

Our name and brand is ready to be revealed. We have also defined what our initial projects will be and will announce those soon. Our web domain is purchased and web development is underway. Software is being purchased. Printed materials are being developed.

But I think I'm most excited about our unique approach and mission strategy. So important is it, that we worked and waited several months before we settled on a name that would reflect this unique approach. I think you will like it...

STARFYSH

Some years ago an anthropologist by the name of Loren Eiseley compiled a bunch of essays into a book which he entitled, The Star Thrower. Among the essays is a familiar story, but most people don't know where it originated. The story goes something like this...

Once upon a time, there was a wise man who used to go to the ocean to do his writing. He had a habit of walking on the beach before he began his work. One day, as he was walking along the shore, he looked down the beach and saw a human figure moving like a dancer. He smiled to himself at the thought of someone who would dance to the day, so he walked faster to catch up.


As he got closer, he noticed that the figure was that of a young man, and that what he was doing was not dancing at all. The young man was reaching down to the shore, picking up small objects and throwing them into the ocean.


He came closer still and called out, “Good morning! May I ask what it is that you are doing?”


The young man paused, looked up and replied, “Throwing starfish into the ocean.” “I must ask, then, why are you throwing starfish into the ocean?” asked the somewhat startled wise man.


To this the young man replied, “The sun is up and the tide is going out. If I don’t throw them in, they’ll die.”


Upon hearing this, the wise man commented, “But, young man, do you not realize that there are miles and miles of beach and there are starfish all along every mile? You can’t possibly make a difference!”


As if he hadn’t heard, the young man bent down, picked up yet another starfish and threw it into the ocean. As it met the water, he turned, smiled and said, “Yes, but I just made a big difference to that one!”


I like that story. And I'm convinced most people like that story. It gives us permission to not worry about changing the world. We get a lot of "world" stuff thrown at us: "Change your world." "Make a world of difference." World this, world that. The message of the starfish story resonates with what we intuitively know to be true... that singlehandedly I cannot change the world, but I might be able make a big difference for a tiny part of it. For a child or a village or an orphanage.


Furthermore, I am convinced that people want to, and are ready to do and to give and to help. But it's all so impersonal. We pick up a brochure or we see the need on TV. We have no personal connection to those who challenge us to give. What a sad disconnect: plenty of human compassion and ready resources, but a comparatively puny response to our confrontation with desperate human need.


This irony must end.


It is my contention that there are countless worthy causes out there that we do not respond to because no one we know is affected by or connected to those causes. What if, though, the "tarps project" phenomenon could be duplicated? Remember that? People gave because they had a connection... me. And I had the gall, the nerve to make the ask. God, forgive me for doubting that people would respond en force! (By the way, a little company by the name of Lamar Advertising (highway billboards?) heard about and was impressed with our tarps effort and donated 15 pallets of tarps to us to get to Haiti). We are working now on getting them down there.


I am convinced, dear friends, that this little "tarps" story need not be that unusual. That there are countless other similar stories waiting to be lived out and told.


Coming soon..... STARFYSH

Introducing...