Our wedding was in a small Fort Lauderdale clapboard church. We spent all the money we had $150.00; this included my ring from Service Merchandise, the white bridal satin for my homemade dress, a cake, flowers and candles from Publix’s. The little church did not have a foyer, so I sat in the church van…

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This is an excerpt from my unpublished memoir of our first ten years in Haiti. This is a true story of a true healing that brought an entire family to Christ. Just yesterday while Joel was in the Cap Haitian Marche, Michou the girl, now 51 greeted Joel with hugs and kisses and told others,…

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An excerpt from my unpublished memoir Walking with the God of Miracles. Joel was 20 when he went to Haiti with a ’70s Fort Lauderdale street ministry. In Haiti, one of Final Hour Movement’s young missionaries lived in a mud hut in L’Artibonite, a region infamous for rice paddies and savage voodoo practices. When the…

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An excerpt from my unpublished memoir Walking with the God of Miracles Now the week before Easter, when raucous voodooists celebrate Christ’s death and deny His resurrection by worshiping Satan with frenzy and frequency we came upon a voodoo ceremony. Fresh darkness fell as we found a a foot path shortcut through the ravine. Illuminated…

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The weeklong ministry adventures into the province began with loading the truck, including dirt bikes and covering everything with a tarp. The men then drove hours over unpaved, rocky roads to remote villages. When Joel invited me, I interrogated him, “Have you seen the house? Is there a bed? Is it clean? Is there a…

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Before my salvation, my brother Joe introduced me to his favorite late night TV show Mary Hartman, Mary Hartman. The comedic episode featured a healing evangelist before an audience stocked with paid actors who shouted their healings as the front man fleeced naïve attendees. At first, I thought the show sacrilegious; after all Catholics of…

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After service, we returned to our concrete house protected from thieves by the red grillwork patterning the ocean view in hearts.Clammy with sweat, I stepped through the shower’s plank door and pulled the plastic curtain shut. In the unlit shower, a milky colored tree frog hung from the wall. His suction cup toes spread wide…

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In 1978, we were newlyweds in Haiti. Joel took me to a primitive province to show me where he lived before he met me. Madame Francine’s small blue block house in San Rafael contained a gritty room with a dust crusted sheet on a single cot. Before we lay down, I tried to shake out…

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