Time to Live Sent: 2015

Go get em sister… was the last thing my brother said to me before we hung up the phone and I boarded the plane Saturday for Haiti. No fear this time. I had my friends by my side and my family supporting me from afar. It was time to go.

We landed late afternoon and after finding our way through customs, with a few dollars passed along to ensure our bags made it out of the airport with us, we arrived at our home for the week ahead. A large gate opened and our van pulled into the guest house.

Our patio/living room/gathering place

The girls dormatory

Each sleeping room had an air conditioner that we were allowed to use from bedtime till morning and we were reminded to conserve water when showering. Resources are limited here. The bedrooms, bathrooms, and tiny kitchen were the only interior rooms. Our living area was a large open patio (our team had the top level of the house). There was a strong constant breeze that first night. I love a warm summer breeze and it made me quickly feel comfortable in my new surroundings. The smell in the air and the sounds and views of the night were beauty and despair intertwined. Not sure I can explain it any better than that – it’s easy to feel God’s presence in a place like that.

Locked at night.

I realized in the morning that in addition to the big gated cinderblock walls keeping us safe, there were prison-like locked doors at the bottom of the stairs, the top of the stairs, and into the entrance of the hall where the bedrooms were. It would have taken much more than I realized to get to us had anyone wanted to do us harm.

Sunday morning we headed off to Cite Soliel church. Church in Haiti is calm and almost strict. The “ushers” were not above telling us to put away a chap stick or not take a photo during the service. This church had rules. The music was somewhat reserved and the sermon was in Kreyol. The structure was well built with a strong roof and walls, but very open to the outside – no doors or windows. We arrived two hours in and stayed for another two hours before the service ended. These are very poor people, but they somehow manage to dress in their Sunday best for church!

Church

We left church and headed to the Blanchard Clinic to set up for the week ahead. Then it was off to a very nice buffet lunch. The contrast from what we had seen during the morning drive to church and the “niceness” of where we dined for lunch was very indicative of the have and have-nots of Haiti. We were the “haves” in a land of have-nots. From our lunch we were able to walk back to our guest house. There didn’t seem to be any fear for our safety during the daytime. The walk was hot, sticky, and dusty. Everything is made of cinder block and there is no greenery. Deforestation in Haiti is a huge problem. It has left a sea of colorless cinder block in the city.

As we turned the lights out on our first full day you could hear the cheers from the streets responding to the latest soccer game scoring. There was a lot of life happening outside of our windows. If it wasn’t so hot we would have left them open all night just to listen. I was amazed at all of the lights out of our window. They have rolling blackouts and when the lights are on – the lights are on in Port-au-Prince.

Monday morning’s arrival at the clinic was a little overwhelming as we pulled in to find the much anticipated long line of people waiting for us. My job specifically was to interview the patients through an interpreter and identify what their needs were. My goal for the next four days continued to focus on being present. Even though I was working through a translator I had to remember to look each person in the eye and communicate even though we weren’t speaking the same language. Claudy was my interpreter for the week. He was a 25ish year old Haitian. He had completed some college, but had taken two years off after the earthquake because he was afraid; the earthquake debilitated him and it took two years before he was able to continue his normal life. He was unable to attend this semester because he didn’t have the money.

We would sit down about 8:15 each morning for the next four days and not stand up again until lunch. The symptoms were often very similar from one individual to the next and over the course of the next few days I began to figure out what was wrong with each person almost before the interpreter relayed their concerns. Their gestures told their story. Headaches, neck aches, body aches, itchy-watery eyes, chest pain, indigestion, children with rashes and women with infections… almost every person had the same issues. The young ages of the girls with infections was mind-blowing and sad. Often their words were just place holders for everything wrong. “How long have you had the cold?” – the reply might be, “a year”. Communication wasn’t perfect, but it was good enough. The patients would sit outside in a line waiting to have their vitals taken, then we would assess their needs and they would take a seat in the church pews. Eventually they would be directed upstairs to sit in a long cramped hot hall waiting to be seem by the American docs. There was no complaining, no diaper bag of snacks, no electronic devices to keep them entertained. They just sat politely and graciously for hours and hours - hot, tired, and often not feeling well. They were thankful. We could learn so much from them.

Tuesday I started the day with much more confidence in my task and a better awareness of what questions to ask. I was purposely paying close attention to the faces that were placed before me. Beautiful people; literally beautiful. From the faces of the tiny babies to the uncomfortable teens, the exhausted mothers and strong men to the older more frail faces – each one had such a story to them. I would have loved to speak the same language for just an hour and sit over coffee hearing about their lives. I’m sure each conversation would have been fascinating. These are people not living an easy life. I hoped that we could make life a little easier or at least offer even some temporary relief of the aches and pains that they endure.

With the end of each day came time to reflect. I’m pretty certain, given time on a deserted island, I could write a novel. The disconnect from daily life is such a blessing at times like this and the words that I journaled just flowed. Wi-Fi was almost non-existent and first world problems became very distant and replaced with the quiet, unplugged calm at night. I was almost happy the Wi-Fi was spotty although I missed my family and that was my only contact with them.

Day three was already upon us and the system was getting down to a science, yet each day something would happen that would just take me back to the reality of where I was. Today it was one woman in particular. She had to be at least 65 or 70 and had partial paralysis, but it was unclear for how long. I don’t recall all of the symptoms she listed, but I wrote them all down and we directed her to the pew to wait her turn with the doc. A short while later her friend came over and told us that she was feeling much worse and was crying. That alone broke my heart. We went to her and she was now dripping with sweat. Her condition was obviously changing. Claudy helped her up the stairs to where the doctors were and I went on ahead and told them she was coming. We left her upstairs and went back to work. About an hour later I saw her friend helping her down the stairs we had earlier brought her up. I remember thinking how in the world in her condition was she managing all of this. What I didn’t know at that moment was that the doctor felt like she was having either a heart attack or stroke and the best thing for her was to get to the hospital. At the bottom of the stairs was a moto (motorcycle). She was helped on and her friend climbed on behind her and off they went. I’m not sure I have yet to wrap my head around how that played out. I’ll never know what happened to her, but she was one strong woman just to get the point where she rode out of my vision. Later that morning a couple sat down beside me that had been married for 47 years. Their smiles, their faces, their obvious love for each other warmed my heart after a morning where it had been a bit broken.

One thing that struck me as we drove to and from different places, was the amount of trash. It is just everywhere. I was told it is getting better but the volume was unbelievable to me. I also hadn’t expected so much commerce on the side of the roads. We saw everything from large flea market size activity to the vegetable stand outside of a person’s home. People of Haiti don’t make much money, but it’s clear they work and work hard. There is constant activity everywhere we go.

The week was half over and although I missed family and the luxuries of home I was not going to wish away a moment. I was meant to be there and I knew all too soon it would be over. We started each day with prayer.

Some mornings it was said in Kreyol. Funny how a prayer said in another language is almost more beautiful. I took picture after picture and as I’ve found in the past, photography can open up the opportunity to connect with people. I would show them the pictures after I took them and they’d smile. It occurred to me that with the limited number of “windows” (most windows and doorways are covered with bars instead of glass to allow the air to flow) people had much less of an opportunity to even see their reflections let alone a clear colorful picture of themselves. This had to be pretty cool!

Thursday wrapped up the four day long clinic. Each day we were met with the same long line of patients and in the end we had seen almost 650 people. The days were hot, long, exhausting and good!

I wish I had recorded our dinners at the guest house. There was always such a buzz at the table. So many conversations at one time about everything from stories of the day to stories from home with a “pass the rolls” and “do we have hot sauce?” intertwined (along with the constant hand gestures to keep the flies at bay). Each night was like dinner with the Waltons - a very unique Walton family. Bedtime also had its own silly moments. It was a much like a girls dorm as you could imagine and our giggling lasted into the night just about every night. I was so thankful to be there with such good friends.

As the week passed I still loved going out onto the porch at night to feel the warmth and enjoy the smells and sounds. Being so cold natured served me well on this trip! It’s at this point in the trip where I was trying to focus on what I was supposed to bring away from my experience. I felt the need to return with some account of how we together changed the world. It’s a struggle for me to remember that I’m not called to change the world, I’m called to show up and to be present with the people that are put before me - to come to the table without feeling like I’m there to host it. These trips are not going to save the world or make me an expert on how to solve the problems of developing counties. They are about relationships - even the briefest ones. One day at a time, one person at a time. I may never even know what that impact was and I’ve just got to be ok with that. I heard someone on the radio this morning say “When they see me, do they see God”? That sounds like a very very tall order, but in some small way I hoped… maybe.

The clinic was over and Friday we were headed to Fondwa to see the The Carmelle Voltaire Women’s Health Center being built. We traveled through the heart of Port-au-Prince and into the mountains of Haiti up long and windy mountain roads. The sites from the van window I will just have to let photos speak to. For some reason I can’t keep my mouth shut when I think my husband is driving too close to the car in front of him, but put me in a developing country with cars, trucks, motorcycles and livestock in the road with no traffic lights, heavy congestion and pedestrians all over, and I’m all about the crazy ride ahead. When you honk the horn around moutainess turns to warn oncoming traffic not to run you off the road – call me crazy – it’s kind of fun!

The Carmelle Voltaire Women’s Health Center

We arrived at the hospital under construction and I had an honest to goodness 519 Love Well and Live Differently moment. This hospital may have been built with or without the assistance of 519 Church, but I’m sure glad it was with our help! I’m so thankful that we were able to play a role in what was going to be an amazingly life changing addition for the women of Fondwa and it gave me goosebumps. When I signed up for all of the crazy that comes along with planting a church and meeting after meeting to dream about how we could make a positive impact in the world as people of God – this was exactly what I signed up for! Going all the way to Haiti to see it up close and personal – priceless!

At the health center we were greeted by a man named Michael Anello. Michael is one of those guys that you meet and immediately think, I want to know everything about him. He told me that after a career as a child psychologist and following a mission trip to Haiti he packed up a few belongings and moved to Fondwa. He is now the In-Country Project manager for Building Goodness Foundation that is bringing this amazing building to fruition. I asked him if this was retirement. He told me that he had simply decided it was time to give back. He has adopted the most beautiful HUGE dog named Max from the mountains of Haiti that he will take home with him when he returns to the states someday. He pointed out one of the construction crew that he had found wrapped in a USAID tarp and in his words “near death”. He told the man to come with him, that he was giving him a job. He gave him much more - a new chance at life. “I wanna be like Mike”. This was the second story told to me that started with, “I went on a mission trip”… You simply never know what will happen when you hear that quiet whisper saying “Go”. The change to your life might only be the beginning.

After a night at the Hotel Cyvadier in Jacmel we were headed back towards the guest house with a final stop at the Fatima House Orphanage and Saint Antoine School. We arrived at the end of a long steep road, parked the van and started walking towards the orphanage. Haiti is so beautiful. I’m just not sure the photos I took can begin to do it justice. It was a bit overcast, but so beautiful. We were greeted as we were everywhere by wonderfully friendly faces to show us around. The school was a well-built structure on the side of the mountain. It was Saturday so the classrooms were empty. From there we headed towards the orphanage. We walked past what was once a guest house that had fallen in the earthquake. Nobody was hurt here. The first floor was thankfully empty and the people on the second floor were able to “ride” the second story as it pancaked down to the floor below. Sadly, a nun and child lost their lives in the earthquake that day in another structure. The quake hit about 20 minutes before darkness. The walk we were about to take was one that the children took that day just after the quake as they made their way out to the steep road that we had walked in on. There they spent the night sleeping on a dark road listening to the mountains around them collapsing in places during aftershocks. I can’t even begin to imagine their terror that night. They had no idea if those pieces of mountain were headed there way. It has been five years since the quake, but the stories are still very much a part of daily life there.

Where the guest house stood before the earthquake.

The road to the orphanage was narrow and turns out I’m a bit freaked out by tiny paths with steep drops and I have no confidence in my ability to keep my footing. It was a stressful walk, but my team was patient and helpful as I maneuvered my way through. (Thanks guys!). Our arrival at the orphanage was heartbreaking and my discomfort, I’m ashamed to say, was immediate. There was a girl maybe 8 years old with what I suspect was a pretty severe case of autism. She carried an old dirty plastic bottle with her and insisted that we bang it like a drum. She would take your hands and place them on the dirty container and make you drum while she threw herself to the ground to listen. The sound somehow soothed her if only for seconds at a time. She was strong and insistent. The other children were only briefly tolerant before hitting her with a switch from the surrounding trees and literally dragging her away after they had enough. She was not from the orphanage, but from a home somewhere nearby yet wandering around alone. I was told that in the past she had been tied up. I realized this may have actually been for her safety as I’m sure her mother didn’t have the luxury of keeping her safely inside all of the time. I wrestled with God as I looked into her eyes. I made myself really see her before walking away feeling confused, heartbroken, and helpless. I don’t feel like I served her well and her situation was something that I couldn’t make sense of. This was what being a child with disabilities in a remote part of Haiti looked like. I just kept thinking to myself “she is a child of God, she is a child of God”. I didn’t interact with the other children much after that. I understand the children of the orphanage do have it better than many other children and the work they are doing there is a blessing for those children. The nuns are there to care for them, they have food to eat, a roof over their heads, and a school to attend.

It was a long ride back to our guest house and I think we were all ready to get out of the van and get cooled off. Thank Goodness Jenn had purchased a drum earlier in the day. It provided me throughout the day with the comic relief that I needed (Thanks for singing with me Jenn!)

We had done what we had set out to do. The team had touched many lives, learned so much, and hopefully we were as much a blessing to the people of Haiti as they were to us. These beautiful faces will be etched in our memory for a long time to come. I have a handwritten sign on my refrigerator that reads:

“What is my assignment from God?”

“What will move His Kingdom forward most in my life?”

“Live as the full expression of who he created me to be.”

We are all given the opportunity in one way or another to be the hands and feet of God. I feel so honored each time an opportunity comes before me to live into that moment. Haiti was one of those moments and I’m so thankful.

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There is so much to learn, to capture, to share. You’d give up reading before I said it all, but I did want to mention that our trip was through Family Health Ministries. This organization began following one of those missions trips I spoke of earlier and what they have done for the people of Haiti is amazing. If you’d like more information on what they are doing in Haiti and perhaps how you could help, please visit their website. I focused on my experience, but I wanted to make sure you were given the opportunity to dig deeper into this fantastic organization if you felt called to learn more. I’m telling you... never ignore that whisper. http://familyhealthministries.org/

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