My First Trip

“Forever Changed.” I can find no other words to express the overwhelming flood of emotions that swirl within me upon my return from my first, but not my last, mission trip to Haiti. Even as I try to capture the experience on paper to share with you, I begin to weep at the thought of those precious souls I have left suffering behind. I pray that this sense of guilt will transform itself into a powerful action plan that will enable me to return with better resources to make a difference. For now, I am still processing the week. My brother has been a missionary in Venezuela for the past 11 years and I have never once felt the urge to join him on his quest. I politely declined every invitation and pledged my participation through prayer and donations. When he spoke of his current work in Haiti, I was shocked by his graphic description of the danger, filth, and poverty. I thought “Why would you risk your life and health for such an overwhelming need in a Fifth World country?” This Spring Jim spent three long months fighting a life threatening case of meningitis after returning from a trip building a school in Haiti. It was thru my daily phonecalls to him as he healed that we grew much closer as adults. Perhaps that was why I was more receptive when he called in early August saying “This is the one, Donna.
This is the trip that I really need you to go on with me. It is a small group and we will be visiting all my mission projects in Haiti to assess their progress and needs. You could even do some training for the school staff there. Please pray about it, Sis.” So I did and I said “Yes”. That gave me just three weeks to raise the funding, get all my shots and prepare for the experience of a lifetime. I must tell you that not everyone was happy with my decision. Several friends and family members were quite upset that I would go on this trip with no health insurance and the high risk involved. “What do you think you can accomplish in seven days that will make a difference? If you want to hold an orphan, then you can do that here in the United States. It will cost a lot less and you will be safe.” I listened to their arguments, but in my heart, I knew I had to go. My heart had called me to Haiti. I stood in awe when my entire trip was funded through unsolicited funds given in love by my church family and I saw God at work as caring friends and strangers filled my home with supplies to be taken to the missionaries. I never felt the first moment of fear, only a growing sense of excitement at what God had in store for me. Little did I know that my greatest imaginings could not come close to the reality that awaited me. Last week, I came as close as I ever want to be to “hell on earth”. I held dying babies and walked in the stench of an open sewer ravine where hundreds of ill, starving families camped out. I worked with a medical team giving medicine and treatment to those most in need, but there was never enough. I stood in a makeshift village called “Jubilee” in Gonaives with thousands of homeless survivors of a destructive tropical storm and mudslides.
Skeletal corpses were mingled in with the high piles of debris and filth. We fed hundreds of young children a small bowl of rice and grew sick to our stomachs as we had to close the gate on hundreds more that were starving and begging for food. There was no more to give. How could we decide who lived and died by receiving food that day? The sheer numbers of those in need was overwhelming and I could not fathom “playing God” in this manner every day. But somehow in the middle of all the darkness and suffering, a powerful sense of God’s presence and hope prevailed. I met living saints who have dedicated their entire lives and all that they have to making a difference in Haiti. I listened to young children in the orphanage sing songs of praise in both English and Creole as they gave thanks for their daily food, shelter and clothes. I stood on a rooftop and joined new believers worshipping God at dusk. Everywhere we visited we found groups of loving people who had accepted the call to be the hands and feet of Jesus in this dark land that was officially dedicated to Satan hundreds of years ago. Our evening devotions were always a time of praise and gratitude and I have never felt so alive, so humbled, and so on purpose. Now that I am home I find myself constantly thinking of how to bring training and resources back to my new friends in Haiti. At the urging of a friend, I picked up the book “Mountains Beyond Mountains” by Tracy Kidder and I am inspired by the true account of Dr. Paul Farmer, a brilliant physician who is living proof that one person can make a big difference in Haiti.
Over the past few years, I have shared with you my desire to simplify my life and spend time growing in the Lord. I know God has been preparing me for something….and although I still do not know exactly what it is, I do know that my recent trip to Haiti is an important part of it. The world just got a lot smaller and a lot more real to me. My heart calls me back to Haiti and I will return. I ask for your prayers and your support. If you would be interested in joining me, please let me know. "If you spend yourselves in behalf of the hungry and satisfy the needs of the oppressed...The Lord will guide you always; he will satisfy your needs" (Isa 58:10-11 NIV)