August 31, 2012: The day I left Haiti.

It was just barely getting light when my ride arrived. Annie walked with me to the stairs, and Gerda walked the whole way, very South African. We hugged, and I climbed into the back seat of the car and closed the door. There we went. Just like that, up the palm-lined driveway and out into Haiti.

As soon as we passed through the gates of Club Indigo, I saw three Haitian women carrying buckets on their heads. Early in the morning, heading up the hill, skillfully balancing the 5-gallon buckets.

T.I.H., as the saying goes among foreigners here. This is Haiti.

I thought of that as I rode through the little town of Montrois, along the coastline, through towns and past banana plantations and shacks and people and animals and colorfully painted buildings. T.I.H. Driving is a little crazy there; I found myself praying that no one would get in the way of our car as we careened down the road, sometimes passing a slow, overloaded tap-tap even though another car was in sight coming the other direction. T.I.H. We passed a tent city in Port au Prince on our way to the airport. I had never actually seen one before, but I guess the sea of blue plastic is a common scene there. T.I.H. Occasionally, you see empty plastic bottles all over the edges of the road, or a tipped-over dumpster, or burning tires in the middle of the road. Protests. T.I.H.

Now I am home, back in the United States of America. The streets where I live are not lined with trash. We have reliable hot water in the house. The grocery store across the street carries almost every kind of food I could ask for. People observe the traffic laws, for the most part. It is familiar here; I know the language, the customs. The general public appears more busy than hopeless, even though I know many of them are.

T.I.N.H. This is not Haiti.

 

It’s been almost three weeks now that I’ve been home. Leaving Haiti was hard on many levels, but coming home was a delight. I don’t know when I’ve ever found so much delight in being with my family, cooking dinner with my mom and sisters, and settling my things into my cozy little room. It’s been great.

One day as I went about my room, unpacking things I had in boxes and making the place beautiful again, my heart just filled with thanksgiving. And then I thought about those people—those many, many, children and adults and elderly—who have no home and family like I do. And I sat in the corner in my room and cried.

Do I miss Haiti? Parts of it, yes. I miss Annie and Gerda and Lily and Reese and Nessa and Carla and Annika and Hunter and the cleaning ladies and the teal-blue water and the colorful busy streets of Saint Marc and… so many things. Here’s a couple pictures of some of the people I miss (the really good ones were taken by Annie Wesche):

 

 

 

 

You want to know something funny? I get encouraged by my own blog posts. I know, it sounds weird. But the things that God teaches me, sometimes I forget... and then I read what I wrote, and I remember.

Like tonight. Someone commented on an earlier post, and it made me think about it. Then I went and read it, and I was challenged and convicted by what I had written just a few weeks ago! But I guess that makes sense, since it was Jesus who was teaching me, not just my own nice thoughts. J

I really need to go. We are preparing for a graduation of some students in the year-long Ellerslie program tomorrow, and then early Monday morning, a group of us plan to leave at a ridiculous hour to head down toward México! I am super excited about what God has in store for this trip. It’s definitely going to be all Him, not us… (inward laugh) but He’s the only one who can change hearts and save lives, anyway, so that’ll be great. I hope to keep up blogging on the trip. We need any prayer we can get!

So… tonight I just want to declare His goodness, and His faithfulness even when it’s not blatantly obvious in the natural. There are a few things about my future that in the natural cause me a lot of fear and self-protection--just unknowns about what I'll be doing for this next season, etc.--but I choose to hand them over to my good and faithful Father, knowing that He will guide, He will keep me, and He will never leave me.

Why? Because I’m so good that He is obligated? NO!

It is just because that is who He is.