From Haiti: #2

My friend Heather and her daughter spent a week in Haiti on a mission trip . . . this is an update email that Heather sent.

Hello Douglas and Seth, ( and other various peoples)... i think we have recovered from our long day yesterday. we were in bed by 9, comotose almost, and slept mostly through the night.. woke up at 5 with the roosters... literally... and the coke truck that pulls in at 5:30 in the morning. anyway, we took off for the compound/school in Blanchard, a "neighborhood" of PortAuPrince... where we are staying in PortAuPrince is solidly middle class. The definition of Middle Class is way different than ours. But, Blanchard is a step down. It's a BIG step down. Anyway, we spent the day painting the inside of a church. It was a long sweaty day, but not unbearable. The kids at the school make me want to cry and smile at the same time. They swarm us, Kelly and I especially, because of the hair. They are just all so sweet.. they chatter away in French/Creole and and we smile and nod back, not a clue what they are saying. The kids in the school are clean, dressed in uniforms, and well fed for at least one meal a day. Outside the walls is a different story. I can't describe the conditions. For example, on our way home today, I saw a woman frying what looked like homemade fruitpies, except they were brown. When we got back, I asked Leon what they were and he called them "dirt" pies. I kind of giggled and said, "No, really, Leon, what are they really ?" He assured me that they were really DIRT pies. Fried dirt. They are made of dirt and water out of the ditch...if you could call it water. It fills their stomachs so they dont feel the hunger. I'm crying again... Anyway...one last story, then I must go... Yesterday, we all got through the airport with little difficulty. Then we hit the outside. We were all pushing suitcases on carts, trying to get to the truck. Kelly and I were trying to navigate our cart, all 200 lbs. of it, and of course not able to keep up. We fell pretty far behind, and we were surrounded by panhandlers, for lack of a better term, trying to "help" us. We were sweating and spilling the suitcases, and I personally was feeling a little stressed. :) Our capable interpreter, Luke, and our Driver/Security, Cola, ran back to help us, shouting and pushing them away. It got just a little bit loud for few moments. The plan from now on, is to keep Kelly and Heather in FRONT, next to Luke and Cola. Dont let me scare you though. they were all just trying to earn a dollar for a meal for the day. It was just a little tense for a few minutes.. great way to enter the country.
Leon says that the way to love the Haitians, besides painting, etc, is to serve them... He said that even picking up trash is a way to serve. That seems like such a meaningless act of service, compared to the great needs in this country. They are hungry and over half die before the age of 5... what's picking up a napkin going to do? But I suppose what he was trying to communicate was the attitude is what matters... to show that I care for them, and I care what happens to them... a woman passing by our compound last night, looked up at us and shouted, "Jesus loves you, Jesus loves you, Jesus is coming back"... that seems so far away in America... what do we have to want for? I know we want Jesus to return, but life isn't too bad for us right now... But for Haitians, the hope of Christ returning is all they have.. a very real part of their lives... when you are hungry and dying, Jesus returning for give us new life takes on a whole new meaning....I must go now... love you all... please forward this on.... Heather

Let that sink in for a moment. Eating literal mud pies, made with runoff ditch water, just so a child can try and sleep with something in its stomach.

"The best way to love is to serve."

Change us, O God. May Heather never be the same because of her trip, and may You touch us as she shares her story through email. Come, Lord Jesus.

Resurgam, daily.