At the end of Day One in Haiti, I was completely overwhelmed. Haiti is breathtaking, but shockingly unfamiliar. I confided in John at bedtime that although I feel secure leaving Double Harvest with the men that are here, I don’t know if I will be comfortable and trusting enough to go off-site by myself or with our children. I was having trouble imagining how our kids could still be kids in Haiti.
John and I wake to the deep, strong voice of the Double Harvest guard, whose singing carries the sun into the sky each morning. Despite the fact that the power doesn’t come on until 6:00am, we were up and out to morning devotions on Day Two at 6:40am. Haiti power is unreliable, so Double Harvest runs a generator that powers up at 6:00am. This generator is turned off at 9:00pm each night. (So you have to flush the toilet before then.)
Morning devotions are led by a Haitian that the on-site missionary pastor has trained. He spoke in Kreyol, and I was sitting too far away from the missionary to hear his interpreting. I did understand that he was talking about the anniversary of the earthquake coming. He said that people are wondering if they’ll always have food and water, and people are wondering if another earthquake will come. But Jesus says in John 14, “Do not let your hearts be troubled. I am going to prepare a place for you.” I imagined how Haitians must anticipate Heaven. Most Americans don’t think about Heaven so much because we can’t imagine Hell.
After devotions I bade farewell to the guys and they drove off in the mule to the orphanage. I had made an appointment to visit the missionary pastor’s wife. Art and Becky Spalding raised five children in Haiti. Becky is a no-frills kind of girl who loves Haiti and Facebook. I spent two and a half hours drilling her about school and sports and food and peers and animals and internet and safety and bugs. Becky was invaluable. As unsocial as I am, I threw my arms around her and blinked away the tears as I stepped out onto her porch. I walked down her tree-lined stoney drive with a sense of hope.
I would have spent all day with Becky, but I had to get back to camp to prepare lunch for the soldiers. I had only been back a few minutes when there was a knock on the door. A gentleman introduced himself as working with an organization called Nehemiah’s Vision. He wanted permission to give his group a tour of the guest quarters. When the group came up, they had very little to do with observing our digs, but it became obvious to me why they were there. Jesus said, “Do not worry about your life, what you will eat or drink; or about your body, what you will wear. See how the lilies of the field grow. Not even Solomon in all his splendor was dressed like one of these. Will God not much more clothe you, O you of little faith? Your Heavenly Father knows what you need” (Matt. 6). God sent these folks to deliver exactly what I needed. Instead of looking at our quarters, out of the blue, Aaron and Jay began to tell me that they had recently moved to Haiti to work as missionaries with their children. They live right down the street with a 15 year-old girl, two boys, 12 and 10, and a 5 year-old. AND THEY’RE LIVING IN A TENT. Twelve year-old Jeremiah talked my ear off while I stood wishing that Marshall was there to take him off my hands. American woman and children live dressed like the lilies in Haiti.
After lunch I had another opportunity to visit Centre Loving Hands. While the guys were busy bending rebar for the new school building, I did a craft project with the children. Wendy had asked me to have the children make hand prints for their American sponsors. Now I’m not great with a group of kids. Engaging more than 2 kids at a time is a challenge for me. These children came out of the woodwork to get paint all over their hands. I had a huge crowd of kids standing around me all shouting, “Wouj!” “Bleu!” and “Zorang!” The challenge for me was getting my buddy Peter to write their names and a number that corresponded with the photos that I was taking. Needless to say, by number 20, we were completely out of control, but each little pickle walked away with a candy cane and a smile. AND, I got my photos. They’re just a bit out of order – mwen regret, Wendy!
Before I left the orphanage, I watched children, some without shoes, some without parents, carrying 2x4s and rebar for their new school. I was compelled to drop my stuff and join them. It was then that I realized that my worries and fears had turned into that old familiar knot in my chest. It was the tightness that I feel as I’m leaving the darkness of poverty behind me and heading for my almost perfect life. It was the feeling that drives me to ask my husband with tears in my eyes, “So, now what?”
Please pray for the orphans. Pray that pure and faultless religion will lead us to give them love, and faith, and opportunities as well as material things. Pray for the Longs as we hurt and labor over the question, “What now?”
Dawn
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