The long winding road took us deeper and deeper into the Haitian outback. Baking in the morning sun and choking back the dust, we carefully scanned the horizon, wondering where our final destination would be. The barren landscape showed no sign of life.

Just as our restlessness peaked, we saw it: A narrow path emerged to our right, carved out of the abandoned rice fields. Our truckload of people and supplies jostled about as we turned off the main road and made our way across the wilderness, only to find life at the other end. “There it is!” yelled someone to my left, “See the mud huts!” This would be our resting place, and our home, for the next seven days.

Nine months ago would be forever remembered as a turning point for this small village in rural Haiti. Lubens Block 4, as it is known to the locals, had been hard hit by the devastating floods of Hurricanes Gustav and Ike, along with two tropical storms. As the flood waters rose, villagers had watched as their meager possessions were swept away, their mud houses melted, and rice fields flooded. Hope for survival had begun to wane as people sought higher ground for safety. “Where will we go?” “How will we survive?” “Who will save us?” were the sort of questions that filled their minds during those dark days after the storm.

The floods had prompted them to cry out to God for help and, as a result, provision had come to their village. Food supplies had poured in, preventing starvation, and rebuilding materials followed. As the people acknowledged the saving power of God, many began to turn away from their voodoo practices. “Help us destroy our voodoo idols,” they requested of the Christian missionaries who had helped them. “We want to serve God.” The floods had truly led to a turning point for this small village in Haiti.

Today was a day of hope and excitement. More help was coming to their village. Our truck carried many hands and supplies to build their first church and school. They would soon be able to worship in a real building with a real roof and their children would have a place to go to learn. The nearest school was miles away and many could not afford to send their children such a distance.

The work began immediately upon arrival. The hum of the generator drowned out the clatter of shovels, axes, and commands. Seventeen sets of hands began to promptly move in sync, methodically preparing the ground for the foundation of this grand building. During the next seven days, the work continued from sunup to sundown. At the end of each day, tired bodies would collapse onto the floors of their mud huts after long, hot hours of work. Although hard and tiring, the work was rewarding, as daily the building took on form and moved toward completion.

The seventh and final day will be remembered for a long time to come. A celebration feast was held to dedicate and turn this new building over to the village. They now had their very own place to worship God and educate their children. This structure, the only one in the village made of concrete, would become a landmark of hope and a testimony to the faithful provision of God. Truly, these people were not forgotten.