A Little Reflection

What a trip this has been so far. I am thankful for everything, the good and the bad; probably more thankful then I've ever been. My first week was definitely rough, what with delayed flights, lost luggage and getting violently sick (did I mention I lost 5 pounds in two days...and I only weighed 80 lbs to begin with?), but it all has just made this last week even more incredible. I do not take my health for granted, that's for sure.

Luckily, I did feel up to the outing on Saturday and joined the group down in Petionville for the afternoon. We first parked on a side road and spent an hour or so wandering the main street where the vendors had set up their wares. There were tables of wood, stone and metal curios - statues, figurines and novelties like a wooden guy in a removable barrel with a certain appendage that springs out when the barrel is lifted - and the stone walls along the way were covered top to bottom with an overwhelming array of colourful Haitian artwork. Most of the paintings portrayed various aspects of village life and made use of colour in a way that no one would call subtle. It was a daunting task to choose from those paintings but I came away with 2 that I love and a bag full of treasures from a man who playfully referred to himself as Mr.Cheap and made amusing claims of that day being a day of "liquidation". "Right", I said, with a smirk and in the same playful tone that he'd established. Could I have gotten it cheaper? Probably. Do I care? Not really. It was hot in the city, more muggy then in the mountains, and the thickness of the air was only accentuated by the continuous wafts of car exhaust. You never cross the road without caution in Haiti, as cars and trucks whizz by frequently and without much care for pedestrians.

Once we were all satisfied with our purchases, we made a quick stop at a lovely souvenir shop before heading to El Rancho, a Texan inspired, high-end hotel in the city. Walking through the doors was a pretty shocking contrast. We each paid our $7 US and continued through the foyer out to where the pool and restaurant were located. It was paradise. We ordered lunch, suited up and spent the next few hours swimming, lounging and getting to know eachother. We left the hotel alive and refreshed and headed back up the mountain.

On the way home, we stopped at a small grocery store to pick up some personal food items. I don't think I'll ever get used to the armed guards that stand outside these sorts of stores with their semi-automatic shotguns and belts of ammunition. It's also strange to see familiar brands on the shelves and having to divide whatever's written on the price tag by 8 to work out the price in American dollars. At the checkout, I had to tell the cashier that I was paying in US and all she did was took the total amount that came up, divided it on a calculator before simple turning it around to show me. The change is then x's by 8 and given back in Haitian currency; very formal. We had parked behind the store and as we stood around waiting for the last couple people to finish their shopping, I became very aware of a young man that stood nearby. He was dressed in a simple, generic, button up gray collared shirt and wore khaki pants held up by a rag that had been inserted through the his belt loops and tied in a rough knot at the front. There was something simple about this man as he held his hands near his face and stared out into nothing and his swollen belly (something I'm more used to seeing on a child) peeked out through his shirt as only the top half of the buttons had been done up. He didn't beg, he just stared and we neglected to acknowledge him. The only time I did notice him paying us any heed was just as we were leaving, his eyes glued to a girl in the front seat as she raised a bottle of fruit juice to her lips. I arrived at the grocery store content and relaxed, I left with my heart broken. I suppose with everything that had gone on before that point, all the distractions and sensory overload, I'd failed to really take in the misery of this place; and this being one of the most affluent, wealthy parts of the country. Even those who are lucky enough to have "houses" often live like squatters, bare and minimalistic, in their filthy cement enclosures. I thought that my time in Africa might have prepared me for what I'd see here, but it didn't. A malnutritioned child in dirty clothes, in a village of tidy huts with thatch roofs, though unforgettable, just isn't quite as nauseating as a malnutritioned child in dirty clothes sitting amidst garbage and rubble on a hot, dusty curbside. Needless to say, on Saturday night, I was sad. I'd also started feeling nauseous again and the fear of another night as the one I'd experienced before left me sad, fearful and discouraged. A phone call home, of course, only made it worse, but an early night led to a bright and sunny Sunday morning and I thanked the Lord that I felt renewed in body and spirit.

Sunday morning was slow and lazy and after a couple hours of cat-like, placid behaviour, we piled into the vehicles (11 in an SUV that comfortably fits 8) and headed to the home of a local missionary couple for church. There were about 27 of us squeezed into their small living room and we were joined by about 5 Haitian people from the community. This was one church service that I will never forget. We opened with a few songs led by keyboard and guitar and then Joel, one of the missionaries, spent the next 30 minutes preaching on the faithfulness of God. The worship was powerful in such a small space, the message was touching and the spirit of God was thick in that room. Before we left, JB (a young Haitian man and friend of the missionaries) shared with us a song that was meaningful to him accompanied by himself on the guitar and vocally by another one of the Haitian men that had joined us. That song was one of the most beautiful things I have ever heard and I left that home feeling emotional, but incredibly encouraged. The rest of the day was spent split between the mainhouse for lunch and the toddler house for the rest of the afternoon and evening where we played and laughed together; it was a time that I feel really solidified the bond I've come to appreciate with the girls here. It was an incredible weekend and now, having the last 5 days to really bond with my kids, I truly feel at home here.

It's such a blessing to know that this is where God wanted me; and I do know this, without a doubt and it's as evident and tangible as the collection of itchy bug bites that have become very familiar on my lower legs and ankles. Because of this, I feel like I'm more receptive then I have been in the past. I think the difference lies in the feeling that I'm taking things in as oppose to just acknowledging the lesson. My heart feels softer and more malleable and my spirit feels humbled and less prone to my typical pride and stubbornness. I feel at peace and safe in the faithful hands of my Father.