Discouraged
Discouragement
The morning of January second I woke up with nearly no
desire to leave the comfort of my home and family for the semi-unknowns of
Blanchard, Haiti. I was discouraged on two dimensions. Not only was I
discouraged that I had to uproot from my comfort at home in the midst of New
Year’s celebrations and time with family, but I was discouraged that I was
discouraged. I hated that I wasn’t 100% totally and fully counting down the
hours, minutes, seconds until I could board the bus that would begin my journey
abroad. I hated that I could only force myself to remember the passion I had
for this country, trying to harness and latch onto the way I know I felt upon
returning home only 9 months prior. But as eleven o’clock rolled around I said
a very tear-filled goodbye to my mom and dad and drove back to Gordon.
When I arrived at school my lack of desire to go began to
subside, giving way to anxiousness, both good and bad, for the journey that
would soon begin. After dropping my bags off in Wilson I, along with the rest
of my team, made my way to Dexter where I’d spend much of the day chatting,
laughing, and getting to know even better those who’d accompany me on this trip.
We enjoyed a few burritos, a significant amount of pizza, and an exhilarating
game of cards. The energy in the house was tangible, and being in the midst of
it began to stir in me the familiar desire to leave.
The Beginning of a
Journey + The Arrival
By midnight I couldn’t shake the giddiness and I couldn’t
sleep. We’d be leaving by 2:30 am and it felt pointless to sleep. But in the
lack of sleep I found extreme restlessness, the hands on the clock moving at
half speed as one by one nearly everyone around me slowly fell asleep. But soon
enough, in the middle of a silently sleeping world, the house rose to life, all
of us bustling, a million moving parts, bags shuffling, last minute packing and
cleaning, and finally loading our 30+ bags into the back of the small bus.
The airport stuff is always the same, and for the sake of
time, yours, and mine, I’ll skip it.
We landed in Port-Au-Prince at 2:19pm and the heat from outside
was leaking into the plane before we even touched down. After nearly 12 hours
of travelling my head had a dull but persistent throb and I was anxious from
all of the chaos that is customs. But after a while we made out way to the bus,
the same familiar bus that stood out in the parking lot with its bright colors
or green and gold and red. Pouchon, probably the worlds best operator of a
motor vehicle, soon got behind the wheel and the engine roared to life. We made
our way down the narrow streets of Port-Au-Prince, which soon gave way to the
even narrower streets of Blanchard. On either side of the road mountains stood
like guardians stretching skyward, but as the streets began to narrow, so too
did the mountains seem to be cast into the distance, replaced now with homes,
schools, and swarms of people who called this home.
Comfort in the Return
We made it to the compound sooner than I remember, and as
the large gate rolled away and Pouchon navigated the bus into the compound I
was hit with a wave of comfort. There is comfort in the return. It felt like I
was home. The moment I saw the CEMEPID signs, I felt like I was home. When I
saw the mango tree acting as a canopy over the waiting benches for the clinic,
I felt at home. When the bus pulled into its familiar parking spot I felt as if
I had just arrived at home. When we stepped out onto the filed and carried our
bags into the bunkhouse, it felt like home. They say smells are the best
triggers for memory, and I’d argue that that is true. As soon as I stepped into
the bunkhouse I was flooded with a familiar and inescapable smell. It isn’t
anything remarkable; it isn’t anything strong, either. It’s a subtle smell of
bleach and hot air that mixed together to smell like the bunkhouse. In that
instant, as my nostrils were reminded of all the days I had spent here, every
nerve was calmed, every anxiety settled, and every fear cast aside. I was home.
Sandra + the Past 9
Months of Progress
After getting settled we had a brief tour of the compound
followed by dinner and a short orientation with Sandra, the new field director
at PID. Touring the compound was incredible. While the main structures remained
the same, there was so much that had been done since I last stepped foot here.
Most significantly the office building was finished. What was once just the
skeleton of a functioning building was now painted a lively orange and yellow
and inside doors had been hung, desks installed, computers and Wi-Fi integrated.
This building now housed the offices for Sandra, the field director, Mr.
Genois, the head of social work, and other various employees at PID. The work
being done on the compound to better enable them to impact the community was
astonishing. After dinner (a delicious one, of course) we sat in the clinic
beneath the colorful roof and got to know Sandra a bit. She became the full
time field director just 4 months before our arrival and seemed well integrated
with the Haitian staff. I really appreciated this time with Sandra. It showed
how invested she is in each team that comes and how much she hopes to connect
with us. Though brief, it was the beginning of what turned out to be a great
dynamic between her and our team. After this, we finished getting settled, a
few journaled on the roof of the clinic, and eventually we all turned in for
the night, eager for what the following ten days would hold.
Sunday’s In Haiti
We woke up early the next morning. One thing I never did
last year and wanted to commit to doing this time around was waking up early
and spending alone time with God and deep in my journal on the roof before the
compound woke to life. After a night of broken sleep I woke up for good at
6:30am. If you know me, you know this is about as far from normal as it can
get. But how often do you get to catch the final moments of sunrise before the
heat of the day set in? As I’d committed to do, I made my way to the roof and
journaled about the beauty of this country, already I could feel God in
everything I saw, and everyone I met.
We attended church later in the morning. It was the first
Sunday of the New Year, and the church we attended was so crowded we had to sit
outside on a few benches under a trellis. While it was unfortunate to not be
able to see the service, it was equally incredible to see the sheer number of
people at this church. The highlight of the morning, though, might have been
seeing Maxime. The former director of work teams at the work site, Maxime was
one of the most impactful people I’d met last year. Though he was only
volunteering part time at PID now because he was in school full time, it was
exciting to see him at church. What was even better was that he remembered me.
One of my fears of short term missions is that I’m just one of a million
passing faces that swoop in for a week to “do good” and “help the poor” rather
than someone who’s coming alongside an already working body of people to enter
into a lifelong partnership with fellow believers around the world. When Maxime
recognized me, I was a little bit more convinced that I was in fact a part of
the latter.
That afternoon we jumped right to work. Most of the team
went to build a toilet in the PID community in Blanchard, a short walk away,
while four of us stayed at the compound to begin digging for a foundation that
would be the addition to the field directors home. While my pride didn’t want
to stay back at the compound (being one of only two people who’d never missed a
day at the worksite) I’m so glad I was able to stay back that day. I got to
work the whole afternoon with Mo, Diamond, Erica, and Sandra and her husband
Abdias. I learned about Sandra’s unexpected path that led her to Haiti as the
filed director and the work of God’s hand through PID.
We finished off the night with team debrief, a great time of
sharing in our day one experiences. I’m already struck by the strength of the
faith of the people who I’m surrounded by.
Laying the Foundation
On Monday we went back to Canaan. Again I was struck by the
idea of comfort in the return. The drive to Canaan was familiar and arriving
there was comforting. We pulled up right next to the house we built last year
and when I saw it I knew exactly where I was. It was so good to be working in
such a beautiful area with such wonderful people. When we got to Canaan,
though, we noticed that the house we had built last year was still unfinished.
This was so disappointing to see. While I was mainly disappointed to know that
two families weren’t able to move into this home, I’d be lying if I didn’t
struggle with the idea that my work in Haiti had been for nothing. But I rested
assured in the fact that one day this home would serve as a safe place for two
wonderful families.
But today we worked hard at building the foundation of a new
home right next door. Nick and I talked about the beauty that is laying the
foundation for not only a house, but for a home that would be someone’s refuge
one day. This is something he shared with me so early on in the week that it
just stuck with me and I found myself going back to time and time again. When
the day was nearly through, and there was five more rocks to move, and I felt
like my noodle arms just couldn’t do it anymore, I’d remind myself of that
simple truth my friend had shared with me, and it gave me the energy to
continue working.
The Super Six + Initial Cultural Confrontation
Only six of us made it to the work site on January 6
th.
With the rest of the team spending much of the day in bed fighting illnesses
from stomach aches to fevers to sun poisoning, the six of us headed to the work
site, excited for the day, thankful for our health, but nervous of how we’d
stretch a team of six wide enough to accomplish what normally 10 or more would
do. But being so low in numbers really allowed for us to be high in morale. We
took everything we had to generate as much positive energy as we could as to
sustain us as our individual workload increased because of our significant
decrease in number. We spent much of the day mixing, passing, and pouring
concrete into the corners of the foundation. We worked so well together, and
the six of us did remarkable things.
This day, however, was one of the hardest for me of the
whole week. When Maxime stepped down as the overseer, Milford took his place.
Unlike Maxime, Milford didn’t work alongside of us, rather he instructed is in
what to do based on what the Haitian workers would tell him. Maxime had years
of experience in construction, and Milford had only been working with PID for
two weeks. Because of this, we were kind of left to our own creativity for how
to effectively get our work done. Luckily Mo, Nick, and I were there last year
and could take what we’d learned through working at the site in the past to
guide the team a bit. My hope is that Milford was able to learn from us just as
we had learned from Maxime. Beyond this, however, Milford was much more stern
with the children. He, again unlike Maxime, would hit and yell at a lot of the
kids. This didn’t sit well with me at all. Though I knew it was something that
was integrated into their culture, I’d never before had to confront it so
directly. I’m so grateful for a conversation I had with Nick about it that
helped me process Milford’s disciplinary action in light of the cultural
differences.
A major highlight of the day, however, was seeing Eustande
again. One of my favorite little boys from my first trip, Eustande is full of
such joy. Seeing him this year I noted how much he’d grown, and the wonderful
person he was turning into. I finally learned his name, and he mine. I’m so
thankful I could see him again and further invest in spending time with him and
getting to know him.
No Comparisons
One thing I knew early on would be a challenge for me this
trip was not comparing this team dynamic to my team last year. I was blessed my
first time around with an incredible team who’s personalities meshed almost
unrealistically well. Because of this, I didn’t want to have any form of bias
going into this trip. For the most part, this was surprisingly easily
avoidable. My team this year was incredible, but in many ways so different from
my first team. I was really able to focus on what each individual brought to
the table and celebrate our uniqueness from one another as well as how each of
our gifts and struggles added to the team dynamic. Both on and off the work
site, I found my relationships with certain members of the team were thriving,
and for that I was so thankful. By this point we were exactly half way through
the week and I was so excited with how close I’d grown to some people, and
excited to see how much closer I’d be able to get with them and others as our
week continued on.
The Ability to Adapt +
Roll With the Punches (As Well As Further Understanding Cultural Differences)
As I mentioned earlier, Milford was new, which posed a
unique set of challenges for our team at the worksite. One lesson I learned was
of grace. While this is something I’ve been continually learning and leaning
into over the past year or so, working with Milford was a tangible way to
practice what I’ve been exploring in theory for so long. It was hard to spend a
lot of the day confused, waiting around, and trying to improvise, but I was
able to harness and try and live out the grace of Christ with Milford,
understanding his limited experience and meeting him where he was at. And in so
doing, we as a team had to come together to be flexible and adapt to the
changing situations.
On this particular Thursday I was faced with a challenged
I’ve never really felt challenged by in the past. I don’t tend to have feminist
tendencies. The hype and polarization of the feminist movement hasn’t been
something I’ve ever really felt strongly about. However, I was faced head on
with a situation of sexism that I’d never felt before. Nick and I were walking
together, each with a bucket of water, mine significantly less full than his.
Yet, when Milford caught up to us he insisted on helping me despite my
insistence that I could do it on my own. Because I was a girl, he assumed that
I couldn’t do it, even though Nick had more to carry. This was hard for me
because Maxime had been so encouraging last year, gently making fun of me when
I said I couldn’t do something because it was too heavy for me to lift. Maxime
would encourage me that I could, and push me to do it, he’d never hold me back
or doubt my abilities because of my gender, and Milford was doing just that. It
was exceptionally hard for me to confront this aspect of the culture.
Further, I was confronted with a lot of aggression from the
kids. In the days prior they had been so loving and interested in playing games
with us, taking photos, and braiding my hair into a million little braids, but
today they were making very vulgar and crude comments to many of us. I’d never
been called out because of my race, but hearing most of them call us “blond”
(meaning whites) I felt so uncomfortable. I questioned my purpose, and if what
I was doing in Haiti, if my mere presence there, was actually doing more harm than
good. Overall, I was beginning to see a lot of the things I missed my first
time around. And while this was so so hard for me to swallow, it was also so
important and essential to my understanding of the culture, of God’s presence,
and of these relationships. So for the growth I attained through these
experiences, they were worth the discomfort. I’m continuing to wrestle with
much of what I saw, heard, and experienced in Haiti.
My Precious, Precious
Boy
Probably the very best part of my time in Haiti was the
opportunity to meet Jean-Louis, the five-year-old boy I’ve been sponsoring
since October 16
th, 2014. This little boy who’s picture stole my
heart just a few months ago, who I’ve been sending support to, and who I’ve
been praying for everyday, was suddenly standing right in front of me. When we
got back from the worksite I was sure I saw him sitting there waiting for me,
and sure enough, it was him. When I walked over to him with Mr. Genois I wasn’t
sure what to expect, would he be shy, scared, disinterested? But when I got to
him, I squatted down and said “Bon soir,” and he leapt into my arms, a huge smile
on his tiny face and said “bon soir.” I got to spend nearly 40 minutes kicking
a soccer ball back and forth with him, coloring, and talking to his mom, a
wonderful woman who’s heart is clearly for the Lord. She said to me that she
would always be praying for me, and asked that I’d always be praying for
Jean-Louis and his family. While this is something I’ve been doing for the past
three months, seeing him, meeting him and his mother, and playing with him,
he’s no longer just a picture, but a person who I’ll journey with for the next
13 years. He is such a blessing and I am so honored to be his Maren (Godmother -
the term given to sponsors through PID).
To The Beach
On Saturday we celebrated a long workweek with a trip to the
beach. Maxime came along, as well as some others, and the bus was packed, every
seat taken. It was so great to spend time at the beach, crystal clear water
surrounded by mountains, sand of stone, it’s amazing the expanse of God’s
creative hand. Working hard all week was so great, but having a day to rest,
relax, and dive into the culture and beauty of this country was so appreciated.
I Still Hate Endings
I hate endings, I always have, and I always will. Sunday was
our last night in Haiti; our last sunset, our last moonlight night under the
stars on the roof singing songs of praise, our last dinner. I hate lasts, I
hate endings. I tried to avoid it all weekend long, the impending reality of
“leaving soon.” I was struck in the middle of the week with the knowledge that
we’d spent more days in Haiti than we had left, and already that was hard for
me to digest. But as I was sitting on the wall outside the bunkhouse late that
Sunday night I was wrestling with so many unknowns. Was I ready to transition
into daily life at home? Did I even want to? When will I come back? What will
it look like to come back without being a student at Gordon? Am I more than
just a passing face? I was wrestling with these questions when Nick found me in
tears and helped me work through them. He asked me what my three main
take-aways would be when I got home, to which I answered: 1. That PID continues
to work even when I’m not there, and that I ought to be praying a lot more for
them and that they are such beautiful people, 2. That my world isn’t the only
world, and my problems aren’t the only problems (valid as they may be), and 3.
That there is simple joy amidst any chaos, both here and in the States. One
thing Nick said to me that really stuck with me was that every time I look at a
sunset I can know that somewhere in Haiti, a little kid is looking at the same
sunset, and that was infinitely reassuring and comforting.
What I’ve learned
This week God has shown me just how big He really is. I
often limit Him to the context I know, but that is robbing Him of so much. God
is bigger than I can fathom, He is in every nation, in every language, in every
person. He is so glorious and He is working across the globe, way beyond my little
corner of the world. I’ve also been able to see just how fundamentally the same
humans are. While there’s always such a strong emphasis on celebrating our
differences (which is absolutely important) I don’t think I even think about
how fundamentally the same we are. No matter the cultural bounds or language
barriers, humans around the world are so similar. How amazing is it that we are
ALL made in the image of God? That we are all serving the same God, loving the
same God, and being loved by the same God? It blows my mind how vast the
magnitude of God’s love is. These characteristics of God I could have only
known in theory had it not been for Haiti. But because of this country, these
people, the beauty that abounds, I was able to better understand God’s work in
our world.
Holding On
It’s Thursday again, only this time I’m sitting on my bed,
in my apartment, looking out at the snow falling onto paved parking lots. I’m
only just beginning to process and work through the experiences I had in Haiti
my second time around. Amidst the questions and doubts and struggles and joys
I’m working through, there’s one thing I know for certain, that this wont be my
last trip to Haiti as far as I can help it. My journey with PID in Haiti has
only just begun, and it’s something I hope to continue throughout my life.
So now I’m faced with transitioning back to “normal life”
whatever that means, while trying to preserve and hold onto the things I
learned during my short time abroad. Ten days always feels like too much before
I go, but is never enough once I have to get ready to leave. Now the scars on
my skin from bad bucket throws and even worse catches, or improperly carried
rocks are being swallowed up by new skin. My memories will soon begin to fade
like those scars and I’m scared. I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t. I know you
can’t hold onto anything in full forever, and that the only constant in life is
change, but my prayer is that I’d never forget my home in Haiti, both in place
and people, and that I’d continue to pursue knowing God more fully beyond my
own often introspective, limited, and biased bubble.
An Abundance of
Thanks
I’m so thankful for PID, the work they’re doing and the opportunity they give to students and people like me to partner with them. I’m
thankful for my friends and family by who’s support, both financially and
prayerfully, I was able to travel to Haiti twice in a year’s time. I’m thankful
for an institution that not only provides but also encourages these
opportunities for students. I’m thankful for a team of peers that push me
towards Christ, who accept me for who I am in my good moments and bad, and who
encourage one another through love. I’m thankful for leaders who
whole-heartedly pursue servant leadership. I’m thankful for a God who loves me
and who loves the world enough that He’d send his son on our behalf, a God
who’s hand is working across the globe, a God who strengthens, a God who’s
grace abounds, and a God who’s image we all as humans are made in.
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| Photo Credit: Moriah Gross |
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