In a time when there is no certainty except for anxiety, I wanted to share about our recent trip down to Haiti. We were going down to finalize some last details before the Hope Home was relaunched after a brief closure. A team of five of us packed up some essential supplies for the Home and headed down with the task of delivering the supplies, and building bunk beds and a dining room table. This all seemed overly simplistic in theory. The day before we left the threat level was raised from a level three to a level four due to some kidnapping issues in Port au Prince. All still determined to make the journey we added an extra layer of security as we left the airport in Port au Prince and arrived in the village of Montrouis. Sleep-deprived as we had “slept” in the Fort Lauderdale Airport the night before and overly confident on what we were going to accomplish we started the week by inventorying what we had in terms of supplies and tools.  

Not being someone with an excess of carpentry or construction experience I was not entirely sure what we were looking at to build 8 bunk beds, one dining room table, and two benches. This seemed pretty easy from the IKEA assembly skills that I had acquired through college. When we arrived and I saw what we were working with- some 2 by 4s and plywood- I was much less confident that what I thought we’d knock out in about two days might take the entire week. Even looking at some of the tools that Joe, our resident carpentry expert, was unpacking I wasn’t sure what they could possibly be used for except potentially medieval torture…

By the end of the first McKenzie and I had become very well acquainted with the “router.” It was not a secret that we were given this task because it was the least amount of damage that we could inflict on the rest of the team. With that being said, we collected an impressive amount of sawdust throughout the day and even with a less than problematic job the two routers we had either kept breaking or the batteries kept dying making us more of a liability than an asset. But nonetheless, we prevailed?

That first day we loaded back onto the truck feeling tired, dirty, and as if we hadn’t made a dent in the amount of work that we needed to get done. Tuesday and Wednesday went pretty much the same way. Even with adding a few of our Haitian friends to come and assist the team and some of the team skipping lunches we were still not seeing a great deal of progress. It felt hopeless. The 13 kids were going to be moving in on Friday and here we were halfway through the day on Wednesday and there were just piles of wood everywhere with only a few starting to get bolted together. 

I won’t lie I was starting to lose faith in us as I rearranged the schedule with our transportation to cancel the trip to our churches sponsored school and a few other optional activities we had thought to schedule in. I remember walking back into the home and up the stairs to the girls dormitory to where some of the piles of wood were being distributed. Hearing loud voices calling to each other from the two girls rooms I walked in and stopped dead. There were bed frames, actual bed frames, laying on the ground. Okay so they weren’t assembled but out of the pile of wood and up to where they were going to be assembled I could start to see Joe’s vision. A tiny spark of hope lit as I was ordered to grab the wood glue and rejoin the team. We left Wednesday with all four of the girl’s bunk beds roughed out. They still needed the ends to be bolted in place but they were standing and they looked like beds. Muscles sore, slightly sunburnt, but hopeful we carried the thought of being halfway done with the beds into the next day. 

On Thursday we had only scheduled a half day as we were supposed to be distributing food deliveries to those in need in the local community. That morning was a blur as we worked through the remaining bunks for the boys and then circled back with Joe to finish the support beams. We squeezed in some time after a quick bite to each and with a breath of relief, the beds were almost complete as we loaded up the truck with food supplies and started our hike up the mountain. 

It crossed my mind to cancel food delivery when I was reorganizing the schedule but there was part of me that just knew that this was so much more than a small ration of food. This was handing out Hope and Light. This is what the Hope Home stood for- taking care of those in need. So with our backpacks filled we were joined with a team that came in from Tampa and loaded with Creole Bibles and food we made our way into a community that we frequented when we were on the island. Familiar faces met us as we went from home to home talking and visiting with the people there. They invited us to sit and share not only about our faith but about our lives. Handing us their kids to hold and love on I sat in one home the size of my kitchen back home that housed a family of eight. The woman of the house hugged us as we left thanking us for not just the food but the company. The spark of hope that ignited the day before grew larger. As we made our way to the top we met one of my favorite views in all of Haiti. With the mountains on one side and the view of the Sea on the other, we gave out the last of the bags of food and Bibles that we had. Utterly exhausted in body, mind, and spirit it was with renewed focus I walked back down the mountain and readied myself for our final day of work. 

If Thursday was a blur Friday was a nanosecond. We somehow finished all the beds and ended up with not one but two eight feet dining tables. One in each dormitory’s dining rooms. The first of the kids began to arrive and soon we had soccer balls and watchful eyes underfoot as we put finishing touches on everything in the home. The beds were all made and as the kids arrived they were able to pick their bed and looked on in awe that they not only had a bed that was entirely their own but they had sheets, blankets, and indoor plumbing. I cried openly as we had to explain to one of the girls what a toilet was and that she didn’t need to go to the bathroom outside any longer. 

At the end of the day, eight of our thirteen little ones moved in. At the end of a twelve-hour workday we hugged and kissed the precious little faces that clung to us for love and reassurance that they weren’t going to be made to leave. I’m not entirely sure why I got back on the plane to come home except for once we landed and we entered back through customs we found that our country was in severe disarray. We had been sheltered on the island from the panic and mounting frustration of the Coronavirus. We had seen something here and there about the virus spreading but it wasn’t until we touched down that we understood the force of fear that had gripped our country so swiftly. 

I’m still not sure I’ve been able to process everything since coming home. The “shelter in place”, “nonessential vs essential” businesses, and social distancing are all newfound words in everyday vocabulary. This contrasts so sharply with the children we held close and strangers who invited us into their hearts and homes. My heart shutters to think of what this virus could do to my beloved Haiti with their limited medicine and no health care. I pray that the island that has already suffered so much is spared this panic and pain. But I am so incredibly thankful to have been renewed with what Haiti so often has taught me- that no situation is beyond hope. So, while times are scary with nothing for certain except another press conference with more protocol and procedures to follow I beg you all to believe that there is Hope. As God loves the thirteen orphans that are now living in our Home where many of them are experiencing electricity indoor plumbing for the first time He also sees and loves you. Believe that even among the sawdust laden wood that doesn’t appear to be of any use beds will rise. Believe that even as the economy appears to be on the verge of collapse that God will provide for you. Believe that in days of social distancing God is still near. Believe and have faith that there is Hope for tomorrow despite the fear that overpowers today.