June 25, 2009

Dear Friends,

In the hot summer of 1996 Aslan started down a road that most people in the world would say was a stairway to hell. To Aslan, we know that it is a stairway to heaven. Nothing that Lynn Ann and I have ever tried to do has been simple or easy. And the same was true of both of our wonderful children. Daniél was an extremely bright young man, who said his first word “kitty” at the age of 7 months. Thinking she must be delusional, Lynn Ann pointed at the cardboard kitten on the wall and Daniél repeated himself! By the age of two ~ I do not exaggerate ~ he was holding full conversations with adults.

6a00e552ed7b7588330115706657f9970c-320wiDaniél always wanted to do something that made a difference. Although his candle was blown out by the ferocious and evil winds of this world, he made more of a difference in his 28 short years than most people make in their entire lives.  Haiti was his dream ~ born out of six weeks that he spent in Uganda in 1991. Five years later as a young twenty-year-old, it was his encouragement that caused us to take a leap of faith like none other we’d ever taken. Fifteen people boarded a plane in Newark, New Jersey, and some four hours later literally entered another world. From the beginning, it was a great and grand adventure that started a fire in our hearts that will not be extinguished.

On that first night in Port-au-Prince we stayed at Le Palace, a once beautiful hotel that was now in ruins. Outside was a stagnant concrete hole, once a swimming pool, filled with green, rotting water.  It was just one more reminder of a country filled with sadness and overwhelming need. For supper that evening, we walked a few blocks to a small market where we purchased bread, peanut butter and sodas. One of our team members had fortunately brought some jelly with him, so we feasted on old chairs close to the green water. Even then we were not at all feeling sorry for ourselves, for each of us saw for the first time in our lives a poverty that was simply beyond words. Early the next morning we boarded a colorfully painted “tap tap” for a 12-hour ride to Ouanaminthe (pronounced wăh-năh-minth) in the far northeastern corner of Haiti. Daniél was to take 3 more trips to Haiti before his work schedule no longer allowed it.  Haiti, however, never, ever left his heart.

I could tell you hundreds of stories about my bright, talented, sensitive son, but I will close with this very special one. It is about John, a wonderful friend Daniél & Dustin had while they were living in San Francisco. Because of his brokenness, John had lost everything to alcoholism, including a teaching position at a university. His wife, his children and all his friends had long ago given up on him. He was left alone, usually spending his nights huddled under a dirty blanket in the small alcove of a storefront close to our boys’ apartment building.  [Pictured on the right are Daniél (left) and Dustin (right) at their apartment in San Francisco.]6a00e552ed7b7588330115715b8cc2970b-320wi

One evening when Lynn Ann and I were visiting, Daniél asked us to go down with Dustin and him to meet John. He had told John that his parents were coming for a visit, and John wanted to meet us. Daniél told us that he usually gave his friend $5.00 each day to help him. John also found scraps of canvas to paint on and raise a little money to stay alive, and Daniél suggested that we might want to buy one. So, down to the streets of San Francisco the four of us went; and there was John sitting at his regular place. Daniél made all the proper introductions, and John asked us to kindly join him on the curb. I knew we were in for something special, the moment we sat down next to him. John went to great lengths to explain to us how much Daniél and Dustin meant to him and how much they helped him. “They’re my real friends,” he said. And then he leaned across, looked into our eyes ~ his filled with tears ~ and quietly said “You have such wonderful boys. You have such wonderful boys.” He thanked us profusely for buying one of his small paintings ~ which we still have to this day ~ and we headed back to the apartment.

We were now the ones with tears in our eyes, and those tears were not only for our new friend, John. They were tears of joy mixed with sorrow for our own sweet-hearted boy, Daniél, who loved people like John so very much. He loved those that so many others could never or would never love.

More than anything else, Daniél died on the night of December 8, 2004, from a broken heart. The world lost a bright light that cold December evening. The world needs people who love like Daniél loved. The world is a lesser place without him. On his headstone, we borrowed the words from Don McLean’s song, Vincent.

Today, June 25, is Daniél’s birthday.  I want everyone who ever reads this blog and cares about Haiti to know that every good thing that happens there through Aslan Youth Ministries is a star in Daniél’s crown in heaven and also a star in his brother’s. Until we see our sons again, we will strive with our last ounce of strength to love people with the depth that Daniél and Dustin loved people. Love never gives up, never loses faith, is always hopeful and endures through every circumstance. Love will last forever . . . .

Happy birthday, Daniél. And as the poet said so eloquently, “This world was never meant for one as beautiful as you.”

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