Cuba Photos

http://web.mac.com/susannakohly/cuba/cubafotos.html

Hasta la Victoria en Cristo

By: Blanca Correa-Cespedes

Let me share my heart with you. 

Today is the day to bring all things in heaven and earth together in Cuba. 

You gave me a vision and a dream, yet I am far from the understanding of your greater purpose in my life. 

Teach me to yield my ways father. 

May the beauty of your splendor overflow in my life. May your love be poured out. May you burn inside me to create a chain reaction for your glory. 

You've called me by name. Here I am Lord. Show me your  ways and lead me as we claim the victory in Cuba. 

Always for your glory Jesus!

Entry by Missy Basti

I am so blown away by the generosity and openness of the Cuban people. Anyone I made eye contact with was willing to speak to me! They are a true inspiration. 

They have so little, but you would never know by they way they act. They will literally give you the shirt off their back- even if they don't have another. I hope I can take what they have taught me and put it into practice in Miami. 

Thoughts From the Havana Airport

By: Lisset Cascudo

• We are the the Nehemiah's of our generation
• I've never  been so proud to be Cuban. Out land is beautiful and the people are smart and resourceful.
• This is our mission: to share the message of salvation to those that don't know Jesus and to encourage those that do.
• The thing that I am taking away with me is that we all need to forgive the grievances of the past. All Cubans have a common goal to see a nation blessed by God both spiritually and economically. This starts with reconciliation w/ God and with each other. 
• One thing that has been consistent as we visit with people and the churches:  It is a great source of encouragement that those that live with abundance come back to carry those that don't live in abundance. 

Restoration. Reconciliation.

By: Blanca Correa-Cespedes

If His people, which are called by His name, would humble themselves
Seek restoration and reconciliation and turn from their wicked ways
The nations would be one in spirit and truth.

Beautiful nation that has been torn away
Anger and resentment have kept us apart
When will we forgive one another?

My children need to know their history
In the midst of our differences the beauty prevails
Let us reach out to one another

Love and compassion will heal our pain
We yearn to connect with our past
Dissension can no longer stop us
We are one.

Letters from a first generation Cuban-American

Letter from Pinar del Rio. By: susanna kohly

Cuba, you are beautiful and you are desolate.

You are the most beautiful destruction I have ever seen.

A difficult paradox to accept. 

You wear your heart on your sleeve and you do not hide the pride that swells from your monuments and architecture.

The faces that peek at me through your windows tell me that you are expecting someone. What are you waiting for Cuba? Who do you want me to be and what do you want me to be carrying in my arms? I only bring hope.

The colors of your decade-old walls scream revival. I hear them like a voice.

I am already out of money but I have something that is of more value than tomorrow’s dinner.

I have come to your door to give you the help you really need. I know because I need it too.

Listen to my heart because it is the only thing that will help change this country.

It is not hard for me to tell you about this hope I have because you are my brother.

And my heart hurts when yours does.

And I want you to have what I have more than anything else.

Here, take this shirt off my back so that you my see, not just hear, that what I’m saying can be trusted.

It’s ok to have hope.

The guards in green cannot take that from you. Their rifles can’t shoot that down.

This tobacco house and corn field will not speak of what you say to me here.

Cuba, you make me happy and you make me sad.

How does it feel to know that your people live in fear?

And worship gods that they do not love?

 

There is coming a day Cuba, that you will be restored.

I came to tell you that. And I will come back every year to say the same thing.

And tell you about the beauty that I see in you.

Do you see it too?

One day, you will be beautiful again. You will not have to hide your hope with guilt. You will be free to have hope.

And you will see goodness, and the fruit of your hope in the land of living.

We are not done with you Cuba. Our grandfathers and grandmothers that are buried in your soil have rendered us to carry you. 

How great is our God. 

Letters from a first generation Cuban-American

Letter from Havana. By: susanna kohly

Havana, I wasn’t here in your glory days but I can envision what you looked like.

Your colors tell me. Fades as they are, they tell a story. Your layers give way to what was.

Although you are pale yellow now, I see the ripe green that you were. Green like the plantanos that grow in your fields.

I’ve only heard stories of you and visited you in my dreams. Your colors have only existed in my imagination and now that I am here, I feel as if I am living a tangible dream.

This is the purest thing I know.

No longer do I have to go to Little Havana to eat Cuban food, or hear the tale of an exile. I am here.

And the people here, they live on this island. And the Malecon is in their backyard.

The stained glass windows really do exist.And there are the royal palms from the paintings I’ve seen. I am familiar with the plush green mountains that I’ve never seen before.

Cuba, you are beautiful.

The salseros sang us “Chan Chan” today sitting on your streets eating lunch. It was surreally perfect.

But I can’t enjoy you all the way.

You are bleeding too much. Don’t try to hide it. I know better than the signs and slogans that are written all over your streets.

“Vamos Bien!”

I know the truth of why your paint is chipping.

And I am here to help.

Papi, Maria, Jorge, Lisset, Danny, Isabel, Joe.

I have no idea what it means or how it feels to be forced to leave the country that I was born in, but I’ve seen first hand how it can shape you for the rest of your life. I’ve witnessed first-hand how a life of exile can set the axis on which the rest of your life spins.

You were born here just like the man who sold me a copy of the Granma. Yet he has never left this island. And now, with more years than you, he sells a newspapaer that he himself does not endorse.  He has this tints of evaporated joy in his eyes.  Joy that has become like novocain. And he searches yours to see if true joy is possible after all these years. 

You exiles came here to heal and give of yourselves. and verify this joy in your brothers, and aunts and cousins, and sons of cousins. 

And I think your people that have nothing will give you more than you have room in your suitcase for.