The Rain on MarozeauRich Stigall
Last Tuesday, ten of us rode donkeys for two and a half hours up a narrow, rocky trail to a network of ten mountain villages called Marozeau (“mah-roh-zoh”). The only way to get there is by either the donkey ride or helicopter. It’s that remote.
Marozeau sits at 3,300 feet above the city of Croix des Bouquets, about five miles southeast of the Jumecourt Inn, GO Project’s headquarters in Haiti.
As you might imagine, Marozeau is profoundly poor. School costs just eight dollars per year, but only twenty five percent of the families can afford to pay. For sustenance, they rely on the rocky soil to grow their crops, which they sell down the mountain in Croix des Bouquets. Over the past few years, however, droughts and hurricanes have wreaked havoc on their fragile economy.
Our visit to Marozeau turned into a two hour town hall meeting. We answered questions, then took turns encouraging and praying for the community. As we finished up, we asked God to bless the people of Marozeau and to provide rain for their crops.
After hugs and handshakes, we said our goodbyes and began our narrow descent down the mountain. An hour later we took a rest under a lone mango tree. Looking back up the mountain we saw heavy grey clouds rolling in with flashes of lightning and thunder.
Just as we prayed one hour earlier, it was now raining on Marozeau.
There are two ways to see the rain on Marozeau last Tuesday afternoon. The first is to write it off as coincidence. The second is to believe that God revealed His love by making it rain. I choose the later.
Over the past fourteen months, I have discovered that the coolest adventures happen not when we travel to a remote place and ride mountain bikes, run or explore. The most amazing adventures are the ones that begin with a single prayer. The ones that happen when we let down our guard and let God in.
That’s when our new normal becomes nothing less than remarkable.