Hey all! So I promised some people that I would write when I got home, talking about my trip. Words cannot adequately begin to describe everything that my heart felt and experienced while I was down there, but I’m going to try my best!
I was so restless on the plane to Haiti. I couldn’t believe that I was actually going back. I had been waiting every day for a year to return to this little island and continue the work I started, and it was so exciting to be getting the chance to go. The 4 hour plane ride felt like it took years. As soon as we landed, I wanted to jump out of my seat, run through the airport, and find Manno and the rest of the team that was waiting for us. But God had been teaching me patience throughout this whole year, and He wasn’t going to give up on one more opportunity.
Cracks. That was the first sign of the earthquake I saw in the airport in Port-Au-Prince. They were everywhere. Some big and obvious, some small and spider-like that could only be seen if you looked close. It was so surreal to be standing on ground that 4 months ago to the day caused Haiti to see one of its darkest moments. To be seeing it with my own eyes, and not through a television screen. However, my thoughts were quickly interrupted by a large group of Haitians playing joyful island music at the bottom of the stairs with smiles on their faces for everyone walking by. Their resilience. It constantly amazes me.
Outside in the craziness of the streets surrounding the airport, I somehow found Manno’s face and I instantly relaxed. Someone familiar. I was safe. He led us over to the brand new truck that our mission owns. I sat right next to the open back to help my carsickness, and therefore was a direct target for the Haitians crowding around trying to sell us anything and everything. Many of them pleaded with me to buy something, listing off everyone they lost in the quake. Wives, mothers, sisters, children. They kept asking for anything that we could give them, so we gave them some sandwiches and packs of water from the truck. There was one boy about 13 years old who stuck out to me particularly. After giving him a sandwich and some water, I said I would pray for him. He smiled and said he would pray for me too. As we drove away he kinda ran alongside our truck, me shouting in Creole that I was praying for him and him shouting back that he would pray for me too. I might not have made his financial situation any better, but I pray that I gave him hope. Hope that there are people around the world praying for him, caring about him.
I was surprised how much the city had cleaned up, at least along the main roads. I had the news images burned into my brain, and was expecting it to still be like that. You could definitely tell there had been an earthquake though, in the piles of rubble along the road and big gaping holes where buildings used to stand. There were tents everywhere. Huge tent cities, where the millions of homeless people now live. As we drove a few miles outside of the main city, more towards the epicenter of the quake, the damage became much more visible and less cleaned up. Buildings completely pancaked, like huge graves for all of the bodies still trapped inside. Mounds of rubble along the side of the road. That was hard to see. The world has started to forget about Haiti again, now that the news cameras have pulled out. But there is still so much work that needs to be done here, still so much help that is needed.
We finally got to the village at night, after bouncing around in the back of the truck for about 5 hours. Everyone at the orphanage started cheering and clapping, and surged towards the back of the truck as soon as we parked. We all picked up a kid and just started hugging them. It was beautiful. That first night I took my cot up onto the roof and slept under the stars. They are so brilliant, so clear there. They make you feel so small and powerless. But so appreciative at the same time, for having so wonderful a Creator. The mountains surrounding the orphanage are beautiful, but they hold a new power for me now- a dangerous one.
The children are so amazing. They love with every ounce of their being. They don’t care if they know you or not, if you’re white or black. They simply love you because you’re there. Their eyes are so big, so full. They showed me the true healing power of love. Some of the orphans had been there since before the earthquake, others were there because their parents had died in it. Many of them were miserable and traumatized when they came here, but now run around with joyful smiles and shrieks of laughter. It’s a miracle of God, how children can forget so easily with a little bit of love. It’s amazing how quickly my maternal instinct kicks in here, so much more than in the States. When they fall asleep in my lap, they trust me. They’re safe from the challenges of life for a bit. Once when I was holding one of the earthquake orphans as he was sleeping, I got a beautiful sense that I was holding him for his mom in Heaven. She was loving him through me. It’s such an indescribable feeling.
We went on some house visits the first day. I gave out rosaries from Medjugorje and blessed a few sick people with holy water. It felt so good, so natural, to pray with the people. My heart was on fire. This is what I was meant to do. When we were walking back, one of the kids from the village who I knew from the last trip was walking next to me. He mumbled something in Creole that I didn’t hear, and when I asked him what he said he told me in broken English “I love you.. very much.” My heart melted and all I could say was “me too” but I wanted to just sit and cry right there.
The third full day we were there, I spent all day with the kids. I hardly talked to anyone else. They were a mix of orphans, village children, and children of refugee families living on the property. Some of the older ones and I took videos on my camera. The little ones just sat in my lap. They all were craving love and attention, no matter their age. At one point I was sitting on the floor of the front porch with about 4 kids all asleep on me in different angles. It was so precious. A group of girls from the village started calling me Mami and followed me around everywhere like a pack. It was kind of scary…they would start doing things for me and helping me like I was their actual mother.
We went to the next village over where the church is one night for a mission night. It starts with a rosary, praise and worship session, and then ends with the saying of the Divine Office since a priest can’t be present to make it a mass. All in all it takes 3-4 hours, depending on how long the people feel like singing. And it’s glorious. We walked around to all the houses near the church beforehand, inviting people to come. We visited a house where a young father lives with his 4 children. His wife just died of an ear infection. An ear infection. They couldn’t afford the antibiotics. We climbed to the top of a big hill to visit a little old lady named Madamn Morigen. She was so happy to see us, even though she was feeling sick. She gave us all kisses (some more than others..) and praised God for sending us to her. I blessed her with holy water and she went nuts with excitement. She taught me the importance of joy in the midst of suffering. At the mission night, we sang a mix of Creole and American praise and worship songs. It was like a sharing of cultures. But whether we were white or black, Haitian or American, spoke Creole or English, we all were praising the same God. We are all His children and are all the same in His eyes.
It’s so easy to forget the horrors of Port-Au-Prince when you’re out in the village. The orphanage is like an oasis, a paradise in the midst of suffering and tragedy. Life is so natural and simple there. You rise with the sun and go to sleep when it’s dark. I felt so rested every night because I was listening to my body and not an alarm clock. I was eating healthy food that wasn’t processed and full of chemicals, and bathed in the river every day. I didn’t rush to the next thing all the time, but enjoyed the present moment. One of the Haitians asked me why I love Haiti so much, that I must love the States more. I said that the States was my home, and will always be special to me, but that my heart feels more full here. I am doing God’s will here. I feel free here. I hope I didn’t offend him or seem ungrateful, because many Haitians would do anything to live in America. But what I said is true. I need to work on being more grateful. I was born in the US for a reason and can’t shed it off but must always carry it with me.
I love how all of the people at the mission call it a house, not an orphanage. Because that’s what it is- a home. A home filled with love. These children are never truly orphans because we are all God’s children. We all have a Father and mother in Heaven. I love the focus of the mission- to make sure that every child is held and loved. It never feels like an orphanage, but a family. Many nights Louis will gather the children around him and tell them about Jesus and sing worship songs with them. It is like a father teaching his children.. it's so beautiful to see.
I bathed the kids in the river twice. The second time a group of us girls went without Johnna or Katie, and it was hilarious. The kids knew they could get away with things. They were wriggling all over, and it’s almost impossible to hold on when they’re covered in soap. I think I ended up getting wetter than they did. All of the Haitian women sitting on the other side of the river washing clothes were staring and laughing at us like we were crazy. At one point, I looked over my shoulder and saw the 6 year old rapping, butt naked, with a pair of our sunglasses on. It’s things like that that make me love Haiti even more.
On Sunday after church we went horseback riding across the countryside. Louis started a horse program in the village, to try and salvage the “horse culture.” Each missionary paid $10 (which converts to a good amount of Haitian money) to rent a horse from a villager. This allows the villagers to make a little bit of money, motivates them to keep up their horses in good condition, and gives them something of theirs to be proud of. It was so much fun, but extremely painful since hardly any of the horses had saddles. Mine had a thick blanket. The countryside is so beautiful. We must have looked like such a circus of white people who had no clue what they were doing. As we rode by each house, the kids would come running up to the road and wave and laugh. We rode for a good 3 hours, and when we got back none of us could walk.
Our main work mission of the week was to paint as much of the inside of the orphanage as possible. Monday I decided to take some time apart from the kids and paint for most of the day. While I missed them, it was good for me to get to know some of the mission team better. A few of the Haitians involved in the mission are our age and helped us paint all week. I quickly realized that while we there first and foremost for the kids, the guys needed us too. They had all been in the city when the earthquake happened and some of them have been through suffering that I will never fully be able to comprehend. Hearing a story about how one of them tried to help other people in the aftermath, I was so proud. But my heart also broke at the same time. They needed us to help them escape life for a bit, to give them hope. Some of us got into a huge paint war. We all just let loose and acted like a bunch of kids. It was so good to see them laughing and smiling and having a good time.
We had mass twice during the week. With the Eucharist. Once in Durgerver, once in Dandann. I couldn’t believe it. In rural Haiti, there is usually one priest assigned to a vast area. It is impossible for him to make it around to all the villages on a regular basis, and so the Haitians can’t receive the Eucharist too frequently. And we got it twice in one week. I was so excited to receive Jesus, and couldn’t imagine how much more excited the Haitians were. However, when Communion time came around, I was shocked and extremely humbled. Hardly anyone got up to receive. They had the chance to receive Him and were giving it up, because they felt unworthy to receive Him. It’s not automatic to go up and get Communion like it is in the States. Their love, faith, reverence, and humility constantly amazes me. I wish I had that.
Near the end of the week, we took the afternoon off and went to the beach. It was about a 2 hour drive. It was one of the most beautiful places I have ever seen.. like a dream, or a postcard. The sand was white and the water matched the sky. We had such a fun day, enjoying each other’s company. I got that guilty feeling again though, that I was away from the kids and having too much fun. But the Lord is so good, and showed me all of the ways that I was still doing His work on this outing. He showed me the unity that was being built amongst our team and between us and the Haitians. He showed me the smiles and looks of relaxation on Johnna and Katie’s faces, who have been through so much and needed a day off. He let me hear the laughter coming out of everyone, from Haitians who in January probably thought that they may never laugh again. One had a look of awe on his face and told me he thought all of Haiti was ruined after the earthquake. But this place was still beautiful, untainted. He was so excited. He had hope again. And he can bring that hope back with him and share it with others who haven’t left the city yet and don’t know what it’s like outside of Port-Au-Prince. That's the hope that I wanted to spread on this trip.
On the way back from the beach, we all got rowdy. We were singing and drumming on the side of the truck at the top of our lungs, so carefree. It was such a gift. A few of our team members sat up on the roof, while the rest of us stayed in the truck. White and black didn’t matter. We were just one big bunch of singing badjougans. The looks on the faces of people as we drove past them was priceless. Some were scared, some were confused, and most were just awe-struck. At one point we took a wrong turn and were stopped on the side of the road in the middle of a gathering area. We were singing a pumped-up version of Lean On Me, literally giving a concert to these people. Some of them started dancing. It was so much fun.
For the last two full days we were there, we went into painting overdrive. We finished the entire downstairs, and primed half of the upstairs. We had two more mission nights, both of which were beautiful. There was a 4.5 shake in the middle of the night that I remember waking up to. We went on one last house visit to a single mother with 9 children. The father left, and the mom has no way to support herself. They are literally starving. And to make things worse, their one room hut was damaged in the quake and is being propped up by a large stick. We brought them water with EmercenC powder in it and Clif bars, and prayed with them. Some of us donated money to buy them food, and we found out they might be receiving a lot of help later this summer. Praise God! An older man from the fields came and sat next to me, and told me that he hurt all over. I thought I told him I would be praying for him, but he made the Sign of the Cross and kind of looked at me expectantly. Gotta love the language barrier. Thankfully I had memorized the Hail Mary in Creole, so we sat there and prayed it together. It was such a beautiful moment.
Saying goodbye to everyone was so hard, especially the kids. They were so sad to see us all leave. But I kept telling them that I was in their hearts and they were in mine, so I wasn’t really leaving. We all piled into the truck and started to pull away. Everyone was gathered and waving goodbye, with Johnna and the kids in the front. It took every muscle in my body to keep me from jumping out of the back and staying. The sound of the gate closing reverberated in my ears, like a part of my life closing for a little while until I am back there again.
Haiti taught me so many things this time around. It taught me humility, gratitude, love, resilience, and calm acceptance. I grew in my relationship with God the Father, who was a big focus in the Gospels during our time there. I was so in tune with nature, with my body, with being who I was created to be by Him. On one of our last nights, we were praising up on the roof before we went to bed. We were singing, calling out His name, reaching out to Him, while a huge cloud of lightening was coming towards us over the mountains. It was so powerful. I learned to be grateful of each moment, of each day. The people in Haiti have so little that they are satisfied with what God gives them. They do not always crave more like we do in the States, but see each day as a gift. Their resilience in the midst of so much suffering is a beacon of light to the world, to inspire the hope of the Resurrection in everyone.
Most people are surprised when I say that it is only a 4 hour plane ride to Haiti. They naturally think that since it's a third world country, it must be far away from the States. But it is only a 45 minute plane ride away from the nearest US border. I don't think it's a coincidence that the hemisphere's richest nation and poorest nation are practically next door neighbors. It shows us how when one group of people live in superflous wealth, another group of people are bound to be deprived. We need to realize that God gave us the earth for everyone, not just one select group of people. We need to share what God gave us with our brothers and sisters in Christ, because in His body we are all one.
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