For every fun moment of laughter, there was just as much difficulty. One thing a year in Haiti will teach you is crisis management.
I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t nervous, but among the nerves was a peace. A reassurance. Affirmation that this, with time, could become home…
Haiti has me thinking a lot about the concept of home. Is it a physical space? The people you’re around? The town that you currently live in? Where you grew up? Where your parents live?
So the next six months loom ahead, full of promise and hope, full of the knowledge that God is the same yesterday, today and forever. He is standing at the balcony next to me whispering the reassurance that He is familiar with the ache and tension I feel in my heart for all of these people. He knows. He is present. He is working.
To commemorate the halfway mark of this year, I decided to make a post dedicated solely to the fun, crazy, beautiful pictures I’ve accumulated since August. Let’s be honest, photos are the best part of blogs anyway 😉 Packing complete. Hello, Carribean. I like you. I get to live here? What? My hood Home for…
We looked each other in the eyes, and we were the same – fragile humans who are patterned after Jesus, which makes us all beautiful. We’re all poor, I just have more stuff.
Living in Haiti is not without its challenges. There have been days where life is just hard. Problems seem insurmountable. Circumstances seem too dire. Poverty seems too prolific. The brokenness seems too ingrained. Those days are the ones that friends are made for. So many of you have written, texted, called, emailed and even made videos to express your love and support.
I’ve found myself, at several points in this experience, marveling at the awe of how well God has prepared me for this year. In ways I didn’t even recognize until arriving here and in ways that I’m sure I will continue to uncover as the year unfolds.
It’s hard to believe I’ve already been here a month. I’ve heard a few people comment that the days in Haiti are long, but the time flies by.
I had a stash of letters saved up for the plane and they were awesome. I got nauseous. Then re-read them. I smiled. Re-read them again. Cried. Re-read them again. Then I just breathed. Thankful for the opportunity this will be and the change this will bring. And then I landed, minus all of my luggage, and walked out into the frenzy of heat and dust.