Loving Haiti

I quickly and anxiously agreed to a very last minute mission trip to Haiti with people that I haven’t met. The trip impacted me so much and I am so gratefulfor the ways that I have changed, the things that I have learned about God and the ways I have grown closer to Him. I am also thankful for the new love I now have for the Haitian people and for the amazing people that I went on the trip with.

We traveled around 12 hours to the Florida airport and flew into the Dominican Republic. From there we slept in the airport before taking a six-hour bus ride to Haiti in a packed bus. My closest traveling companions were my friend sitting next to me, a Dominican soldier, his bottle of alcohol, and his live chicken. We arrived at the mission’s house and met the family that lived there (who are all amazing). We got in late Saturday night so our first activity in Haiti was church the next morning.

Going to church in Haiti was one of my favorite things. The people don’t have much, and yet when the offering bucket went around and came back, it was full. I could not understand what the preacher was saying but the way he spoke with such passion held me captivated. Later I was told that he was preaching on psalm 34.

I will glory in the Lord; let the afflicted hear and rejoice…I sought the Lord, and he answered me; he delivered me from all my fears…This poor man called, and the Lord heard him; he saved him out of all his troubles…Fear the Lord, you his holy people, for those who fear him lack nothing.

The people say, “Amen,” and nod vigorously as right outside the hole in the wall that serves as a window, goats are peeking their heads in, and children are running by half clothed. They have no roof, no front door, a dirt floor, and the spirit of God is so alive in this place with these people who truly know what it is like to trust God for every single need. Our missions group stood in front of the church and sang, “Amazing Grace,” as the congregation sang in Creole, two languages blending together.

They were some of the most gracious people I have ever met. They wanted to honor us, stood up and introduced us, gave us the front row, and as we left they shook our hands and blessed us. The pastor said how blessed he was to have us there, that it doesn’t matter what color our skin is, that we can all sing and praise God together. The next Sunday that I went to that church the people literally washed one another’s feet.

We had some down time on the trip which we spent a lot of practicing our skits (judgment, crucifixion, and the unmerciful servant), and going swimming at the swimming hole and in the ocean. We rode on the back of the pick up truck, which was fun and bumpy at times. Whenever the little kids see you they yell the Creole word for white, “blah, blah, blah!”

Sleeping on the roof was beautiful, looking at all of the stars that God created. It did take courage for me to climb up the ladder onto the roof, ignoring my fear of heights and the fear that I would roll or sleepwalk off of the roof.

In Haiti I actually had to exercise my faith. Never before have I had to pray, “Lord help me not roll of the roof, Lord help us find a bathroom with toilet paper, Lord let this man next to us on the bus with the bottle of alcohol and live chicken not do anything crazy.”

We traveled an hour up to a mountain village where we would stay for three days teaching VBS. On the drive up we saw a woman about to give birth on the side of the road. The literacy rate up in the mountains is only 2%.

We climbed up a bit of the mountain to get to the place we stay. As we climbed we saw little children running up with buckets of water on their heads, and they make that trip as many as twelve times a day.

The way that we let the children know to come to the VBS was to play loud music. The children were a little shy but they soon became like any kids, running around laughing and playing.

How open these kids were to love was really evident. At the church/schoolhouse in the mountains, a little girl walked up to me, climbed into my lap, took my arms and wrapped them around herself, and stayed until I had to leave. They are content to be right beside you, as long as you are holding tight to their hand.

We visited a little girl who will not walk or talk even though she is medically fine. We sang songs and took turns praying over her, I held her hand and I hugged her. After we left her house, I cried my eyes out for a long time. With all the kids I always got a powerful feeling of how much God loves them. Knowing how much God loves this little girl and not being able to do anything to help her was devastating to me. It took me a while of wrestling with God to finally come to peace knowing that He will heal her or not depending on what He knows is best. After meeting that little girl I prayed harder, loved deeper, and felt God closer.

Back home in America, I heard on the radio the Christian song, “Hold me” and for the first time I didn’t first think about myself and God holding me. My first thought was, “Hold her Lord, hold that little girl.” I pray psalm 139 over her, that those words would become so real to her.

I’ve been working on trusting God with my life, but on this trip I learned about a new kind of trust. I had to trust God with THEIR lives. I had to make peace with my weakness and inability and trust that God loves these children and will take care of them. I had to trust that the ache that I felt in me and the hurt I saw around me was under God’s loving control. He has overcome and so I can have peace and be free to do what He has called me to do, and that is to love.

When we came down from the mountain we visited the projects and we also visited a village a little bit up the mountain that we had never been before. At the VBS in the one up the mountain a bit, we had around one hundred children and around fifty of them stood up to make first time commitments to Jesus Christ.

The kids making their rocks that say Faith in Creole

Despite it making me sad, I loved visiting the projects. I think that if I lived in Haiti all I would want to do would be to sit in the slums all day and hold children

and tell them that Jesus loves them and about how precious they are to Him.

It’s so different to read a story about poverty than it is to actually be there. To feel little tiny dirty hands clasping yours, to swing little children onto your lap and to see runny noses, empty bellies, and torn clothing. To have a child put their hands on your face and stare into your eyes or to play with your hair. It no longer becomes a concept or something that you feel sad about from afar. It becomes a face, it becomes a child. One that you’ve held and prayed for and cried over.

I cannot get out of my head the image of bright brown eyes shining on dirt and dust filled faces. Tummies sticking through holey shirts.

The other day I was thinking that something was unfair, and then I realized how unfair it was that I am sitting in my nice comfortable bed in my safe house while little children in Haiti are hungry and cold and uncomfortable.

Gratitude and thankfulness have never seemed so real to me. I learned all that I take for granted, clean water, food, clothing, shelter, and medicine.

I wanted to take the little kids home and clean them up and give them clothes and food and a bed and a home and love. I wanted to fix it, I wanted to make things the way they should be. But I couldn’t do any of those things. I felt helpless. All I could do was hold them in my lap and tell them that Jesus loves them. And that had to be enough.

At the beginning of the trip when I was feeling anxious, God gave me this verse, “ I am with you and will watch over you wherever you go, and I will bring you back to this land. I will not leave you until I have done what I have promised you.”

He was and always is so faithful. I’m so thankful He gave me new little faces and names in Haiti to think of and to pray for.