　 Back in May at our training camp for the World Race I remember thinking, ‘What business do I have going on a year long mission trip? I’ve only been on one mission trip before – and that was for a week!’ The scope of the task set before me suddenly dawned on me and I was feeling like I had met my spiritual Everest. As I approached one of the staff members with my concern, she asked me a few questions about my background and what had drawn me to this experience in the first place. That week I had been working through my grief from my mother’s death and I told her that my mom was my inspiration for the trip. With tears streaming down her cheeks, she prayed and thanked God that when I would hold little orphans around the world, I would be able to relate to them through my loss. That thought gave me some comfort, and so I pressed on, determined to continue the hike to the top of the missions mountain. This month in Haiti, my team is living and working at Foyer Renmen orphanage as mentioned above (www.renmenhaiti.org). The kids here range from infants to high schoolers, and all are in deep need of love and attention. Upon arrival, they immediately greeted us with hugs, kisses and timid salutations of “Welcome, how are you?” It was a scene that brought new meaning to the phrase love at first sight. This week we have played countless handshake, card and soccer games; have sung English and Creole songs together and have even bonded over Hannah Montana (Miley Cyrus) music. I have spoken what little French I remember and since the kids are learning it in school, we’ve had some sucess communicating. Our team is teaching them English, holding Bible studies for the teens and playing with the little kids everyday. Watching their little faces light up like Christmas trees whenever we play has already mad me sad to leave them at the end of the month.
*** I thought it would be appropriate to post this entry today, August 17th, as it was my mom Cindy’s birthday. I can’t wait until we are reunited and I can celebrate with her in Heaven! ***
These past two weeks in Haiti have been eye-opening and stretching. The summer sun is relentless here, yet a cloud of devastation still looms over the nation, threatening to pour down poverty, hopelessness and desperation onto the already grief-stricken people. The children at the Foyer Renmen orphanage where we are staying are a light in all this, and their stories are nothing short of miraculous. Four of the children, including Esther below, were trapped underneath a fallen balcony here during the earthquake back in January for two days. All four survived and you would never know it to look at them today. Yet resilience is not something these kids have learned from a natural disaster – it has been ingrained into their very being since the day they were born. They are growing up in a community – albeit a loving one – in which you are made painstakingly aware of the missing presence of a mom and dad in each of their lives. My heart breaks for them.
Yesterday I showed a group of the children a picture of my family that I’ve carried in my wallet for the past five years. The kids could not believe that I have brothers with black skin like them! As I was gazing at the picture and thinking about how funny my hair looked and how beautiful my mother looked, the words of the training camp staffer came to mind. I was supposed to be able to relate to these kids because I had lost my mom. As I stepped back to survey the boys and girls in front of me who will never pose for a family portrait, I knew that I could not relate to them at all. It was a punch in the gut straight from God.
The Lord blessed me with a beautiful, loving family growing up. I had two parents who cared about me and brought me to Christ. We had the cliche picnics, summer trips to national monuments (in the obligatory minivan!) and Sunday night suppers. I could not have asked for more. The fact that God chose to take my mom to Heaven when I was 26 is sad, but it still means I had 26 more years with a mother than the kids here will have. Real sadness is losing your parents or even your whole family in a split second to an earthquake when you are five years old. Real sadness is missing out on the parental lessons we think are pointless as teens but for which in hindsight we are grateful because they have guided our paths. The children here will never have the luxury of being pissed at their parents. They will never get the family experiences we took for granted growing up. I absolutely cannot relate to that. When I lost my mom, I still had an amazing dad. I had one. These kids have none.
Rather than lose heart, I have decided that learning to love these little ones is better than reaching to relate to them. I may not be able to share in their experiences, but I can enrich them now. Our team has struggled a bit this month with feeling like we are not “doing” anything. We aren’t building something or fixing something – there may be no outward evidence of our time here when we leave. But we are striving to leave the evidence on the inside of these kids’ hearts and minds. Of course, at the same time, God is using them to do the same to us. In the end, we can come together knowing that we are part of the same extended family in Christ. It’s a thought that can not only part the clouds of doom here in Haiti, but can give you a glimpse straight into Heaven.
