🎉🚢 The Boat Arrived 🚢🎉
Which, if you know Haiti, means more than just supplies showing up on time —it means Christmas happened, staff were cared for, kids were celebrated, and some of the most basic things lost in the storm could finally be replaced.
After weeks of flooding, damage, and the slow work of picking up what the storm left behind, the timing couldn’t have been better. The arrival of the boat didn’t fix everything — but it brought relief, stability, and a reminder that provision still shows up, even in the middle of chaos.
There are stories to share, photos to post, and a lot of gratitude wrapped up in that one arrival.
💛 To learn more about how you can help our staff rebuild:
click here
But before I share all of that — in keeping with what appears to be a Castillo tradition — I’m welcoming the NEW YEAR with surgery for the 3rd year in a row. Some people do vision boards. I do orthopedic consults.
Last year, my right rotator cuff went under the knife twice. The plan was to finally deal with the left shoulder last summer, but the right one never fully healed. Somewhere between rapid costume changes for CandyLand events, passing out rice and beans during movie nights, teaching school kids about personal boundaries using hula hoops and shields, and holding Whitney essentially nonstop, I managed to do permanent damage to the same shoulder again.
I remain deeply committed to learning nothing.
Which brings us to what actually happened to my shoulder — and why this year’s surgery looks less like medicine and more like arts and crafts hour.
So what had happened was…
In December, I noticed a very visible cyst forming on the top of my right shoulder. It turned out to be a 2.6 cm mass at my AC joint, caused by fluid and tissue leaking upward as the structure of my shoulder deteriorated. So naturally, I was sent for scans.
The rotator cuff is made up of four tendons, and apparently I ain’t got one left to hang my hat on. I was told that I was likely looking at a total shoulder replacement, which is considered a last resort — mainly because replacements don’t last forever and can’t just be redone indefinitely without major loss of function.
That landed me with a specialist, where I learned about tendon transfer surgery. Normally, this involves taking a tendon from your back and attaching it to the rotator cuff. The catch is that most tendon transfers require at least one healthy rotator cuff tendon — often the one near the AC joint — to act as an anchor. I don’t have that option.
However, my specialist — who clearly enjoys arts and crafts — believes he can make this work with cadaver tendons, a borrowed tendon from my back, and what I can only assume is surgical confidence.
So yes… we’re going with a cut-and-paste approach and calling it a plan.
I did make one very important request about the cadaver tendon: I want someone who enjoys long walks on the beach, is funny, attractive, and passionate about Jesus.
Just kidding — those kinds of people don’t usually do bucket baths. What I actually need is someone who doesn’t scare easily, runs on four hours of sleep, works well under pressure, loves Jesus, and treats sarcasm and unpredictability as standard operating procedure.
🧷 The Glue-Drying Phase 🧷
The surgery itself will take about three hours, followed by a nine-month recovery. For the first two to three months, I’ll be in a sling and not moving my arm at all. Literally not moving it in any direction.
While still in the sling…. Months four through six are dedicated to stretching —mostly back stretches — because the tendons we’re asking to do this job
were not originally designed for it. They need time to attach, strengthen, and figure out their new responsibilities before they’re allowed to do anything useful.
I did try to clarify this, assuming it would be similar to a standard rotator cuff surgery. You’re in a sling for six to eight weeks, but by week five it’s usually more decorative and you’re carefully moving again.
That’s when my surgeon stopped me and said, “Oh no — you misunderstood. You won’t be physically able to lift your arm. There’s no rushing that.”
The best explanation I got was that these tendons are basically like teenagers who have just been handed responsibilities they did not ask for and are wildly unprepared to handle. They need structure, supervision, and time — a lot of it.
And honestly, beneath all the sarcasm, I’m not thrilled. I’m not thrilled that my best friend Tim (yes, first-name basis with my orthopedist) can’t do this surgery. I’m not thrilled that this feels more like a “last hurrah” than a straightforward fix. And I’m definitely not thrilled that the recovery is far longer and more restrictive than I was prepared for.
That said, Tim and my new surgeon have talked at length. He knows my life, my history, and what ministry actually looks like for us. Jose was there and can confirm — the plan allows me to return to Haiti, because for the first few months there’s no physical therapy, no movement, and nothing I could accidentally overdo even if I tried.
So I’ll be heading back before the end of the month. I’m hosting a TBRI (Trust-Based Relational Intervention) seminar with 45 new teachers, and we’re teaching at three new schools the first week of March. I won’t be lifting, carrying, or doing anything remotely impressive —but I’ll be present & involved. I’ll be the safe place. I’ll be visible to the ones who need me. Sometimes presence does what hands never could – and obedience looks like staying, not doing.
As the arts-and-crafts portion of this plan officially begins this Thursday,I’d appreciate you keeping me in your prayers.
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