Day 4 in Haiti, October 25th

Before going to bed last night, I attempted to log onto Google video chat with my brother and my 2-year old daughter, Marley. I was dying to see her and talk to her. I was just positive that she must be so confused and anxious when she woke up each day and Mommy and Daddy still hadn’t come home. Luck was on my side and we were able to establish a choppy connection for a minute or two. I could not get the sound to work on my end, and there was a pretty bad delay, but I got to see my daughter’s face when she recognized me on the screen. That was priceless. Her smile made me cry. And although no sound was coming through on my end, she could hear me. So I told her I loved her and that I’d be home in a few days. Before I was able to say anything more, the internet connection was lost… it was 4 days before it reconnected and allowed me to send off so much as a short email again.



I didn’t sleep very well last night. I woke up at about 4:30 smelling sulfur. I was worried it was somehow coming from the sporadically-working air-conditioning/ventilation unit in our room. The odor was too strong and I couldn’t doze back off. I am learning to value the sleep we are able to get here, so I took one look at my soundly snoozing husband and decided not to wake him. I got dressed and walked down into the lobby. My already-sweaty legs stuck to the leather sofa in the lobby as I sat there looking at the pictures in a French magazine and waiting for everyone else to wake up.

Today was Sunday. After breakfast, we dressed in our nicest (least sweaty) clothes and loaded up into a TapTap to head to the church. Pastor Chad was guest-speaking this morning and I could tell he was nervous about it. He was thinking about what to say and how to deliver the message in a way that would impact a congregation full of people who don’t speak our language, don’t dress like us, and can’t relate to the way we live. Sean was worried about passing out from the heat. I was internally whining about the metal ridge of the seat that was digging into the back of my hamstrings and, at the same time, feeling sorry for myself because I missed my little girl so much and only got to see her on the computer for a few short seconds last night. Everyone had a lot on their minds. We watched dozens of people walking in the road, each headed to go worship in their very best clothing. One older woman, in particular, wore a clean white dress and walked over the rocks and mud puddles towards her church. Her arms were folded in a cross over her chest, clutching a bible like it was her last possession on earth. (Maybe it was?) Our TapTap hit a bump and sent dirty water and chunks of wet dirt flying out from under the tires. When we looked back, the woman was desperately wiping away at a newly forming stain on her white dress. She was dressed in her very best for the Lord, passionately gripping His word in her arms, and walking miles over broken cement, trash, and glass so that she can lift her arms and praise God… and we just splashed mud on her. The sight was enough to make us feel guilty for worrying so much about our petty “burdens”.





We arrived at the church as the music was kicking off. Two rows of chairs had been set up on the stage for us, the guests, to sit in. At first, I felt self-conscious sitting behind the alter in front of all those people. But after a few minutes of observing, I quickly realized the benefit of the placement… I was able to look out at the people, and up to the second floor, and off to both sides of the church. I would be able to take it all in for the next couple of hours.

We sang… and sang, and sang, and sang. These people love to lift their voices to God! I recognized the tune of a few of the songs. There were songs I’ve heard on Klove, contemporary Christian music. It was pretty cool to hear them sung in the beautiful language of Creole. We sat and listened to the beautiful voices of the children’s choir. We prayed. And then it was time for Chad to give his message. I felt so much admiration for the confidence he showed. I would have been scared to death to try and deliver a message to people who didn’t understand a word I was saying! One of the Church’s pastors was translating for Chad. As if the situation wasn’t intimidating enough, this guy must have been 7 feet tall, he towered over Chad! Sean and I have been attending Red Rocks Church for nearly 6 years. I have always had a lot of respect for Chad’s speaking and presentation skills. But more than anything, I admire his ability to convey passion in his messages. He’s a strong, loud, inspiring speaker who’s voice never cracks. But today, after hundreds of times hearing him speak, he broke. As he talked about our visit to the childrens’ medical facility the day before, I heard tears in Chad’s voice for the first time ever. His heart fired up as he explained God’s love for the people of Haiti, even amidst the poverty and unfair circumstance. I have heard Chad deliver a lot of messages, but this was one that will forever remain at the top of my list. It was amazing to watch as God gave him the words and the emotion to connect with these people, despite the language and culture barriers.







After the service, we were asked to line up outside the church doors. Every person wanted to shake our hand or kiss us on the cheek. I remember feeling like the tables should be turned and I should have been shaking their hands and thanking them for showing me what it meant to have faith in all circumstances. Their praise and worship, even in such a desolate environment, was teaching me a lot about myself and what kind of a Christ-follower I wanted to be. We were escorted to Pastor Ronald’s office at the rear of the church where we were fed lunch. Before we left, we had the opportunity to hand out care packages to a group of widows. I am beginning to feel a whole new respect for the peace, grace, and satisfaction I feel from giving.