nails, three hammers, eight teammates, a few miscellaneous Haitian children,
and a jug of water later, I found myself trekking up mini-mountains to the
homes of various “mountain people” over the last several days.
This week, my team
has been partnering with Samaritan’s Purse to construct various tarp houses in
the area of Grand Goave at various locations for the Haitian people. One of our
squad leaders (Kyla) and an AIM logistics man/WR alum (Matthew) have joined us
as well, adding all the more to our great adventure! The work is fairly simple
and organized, but it requires a hearty amount of effort – and the gratitude of
the people receiving these homes is nearly overwhelming.
Four wooden framed
walls, three metal roof slabs, one tarp and a generous portion of nails, these
people have a home and are very grateful for it. Mountain neighbors gather
around or even join in the work to see these structures constructed.
Birthday-suit clad babies run to and fro handing you nails with giant smiles in
their eyes because you’ve given them a sense of importance and being part of
something completely beyond the mere building of a house.
Burned in my memory…is
the face of the woman whose home literally consisted of a 5ft x 3 ft.
triangular structure, complete with a cinder-block + sheet bed, a tube of
toothpaste, one tooth brush, an oil lamp, and whatever clothing she wasn’t
wearing as a makeshift roof –
explaining to me that her and her two children would be receiving the home we
were constructing. Her gratitude and child-like pride extended beyond the brink
of any language barrier.
Burned in my memory…is
the face of the village grandmother who walked by a few times smiling – and
finally catching my eye just long enough to engage in conversation and search
for some sort of understanding – beginning to point out the muddy, giggling
baby, and the young boy that would join her and the rest of their family in the
home we were building just for them.
Burned in my memory…is
the woman who placed a comfy white pillow on the dusty ground so someone could
sit and rest from working on her home – a home for which we was overwhelmed and
blessed by – a home for which she hugged the entire team before leaving her
yard.
Burned in my memory…are
the village kiddos who love helping you hammer nails, and attempt to carry any
+ all of your belongings without question – just to serve you in love.
Burned in my memory…is
the family of four – one momma + three kiddos, huddled together outside their
tin home structure – wearing next to nothing, but whatever garments they were
able to scrounge up, watching with amazed eyes as we constructed this new home
for them.
One tarp house at a
time, I continue to be a part of truly living out what my team name proclaims, “Hinds
Feet on high places.” It is my hope that through speaking broken French/Creole
with a village woman that she see the love of Christ – that by holding a baby
for a few minutes and praying Kingdom destiny and God’s love over them, that
the nation of Haiti begin to birth world changers for the glory of God – that
through letting little mountain kiddos help you construct, that God somehow uses
that seemingly insignificant act to speak purpose, value, and His affection
over them, as dearly love daughters and sons.
I’ve never sweat so
much in my life, but there’s something profoundly wonderful that happens when
you sweat literal buckets of water – and smell like the donkeys tied to the
mountain paths – yet people still want to hug you, sit near you, hear your
story and share theirs, laugh, dance, play – all the while building a house so someone’s tangible,
physical needs are met — it’s called Kingdom!
