Thursday - Arrival in Port au Prince, Haiti

They're talking about me. I think. Every once in a while I catch a word, a glance; but since I can't understand most of it, I just mind my own business. All the 'busboys' sitting on the concrete wall on either side of me can just carry on their own conversation, I guess. Occasional honks or squeaky tires from the street on the other side of the chain link fence make up the background music.

As soon as we started coming in for a landing this morning, my heart began to open wide to this big, beautiful, hurting land. At first, I saw only the sea out my airplane window. I followed it out as the plane tipped and I saw no division line where the sea turned into sky. But before long, faint mountains emerged, and on the other side of the plane, I could see the city. The closer we got, the more clearly I saw the trees and houses and little shacks, the more I knew...

Haiti. I would come to love this land.

"Welcome," I whispered, "to my heart."

So here I am. I got to meet Heather, and her Stateside director, Michelle. I met some precious babies at a hospital. I went to an amazing hotel for lunch. I bumped through the crowded streets of Port au Prince in a rickety little van with Annie, Heather, Michelle, and a few others. I hauled my stuff into the sweet little apartment that I will share with Gerda and Annie and the babies for this next chapter, and heard the ocean from the balcony. I met the sleepy little ones, and then went with Annie to see the crèche (where the kids live) and meet several adorable babies. Among them was Mercy. Mercy is a precious creation of God, but she doesn’t have much time left. No one would be surprised if she got to see Jesus today.

How do you deal with things like that?

I’ve heard about it all my life, but being here is different. Holding a tiny little fist in your hand and whispering pleasant things to a dying baby is something you read about… right? Oh, Jesus...

It's been a full day; I think I fit about as much into a 24-hour period as you possibly could. Even after we visited the crèche around midnight, the craziness was not over. Our car broke down. We had to rent a ‘tap-tap’ and ride home in the back with stuff piled all around and on top! Quite an adventure.

I think again of little Danilo in Mexico, and I smile. I feel like a little Danilo, holding tightly to a strong hand as I walk into this unknown. I might hide behind my Father’s leg a little, glad that at least Someone knows where we are going and what we’ll do when we’re there. I look up to Him eagerly, openly. What should I do with what I’ve seen, Daddy? How should I react? What do You want me to do? And I’m so full of joy, so at peace, because I know He will never, NEVER let me down. He can’t—He is good, He is a Rock, and He never changes, never lies.

I’ll bank my life on that.