Nehemiah 1:4 “When I heard these things, I sat down and wept. For some days I mourned and fasted and prayed before the God of heaven.”

There was a crack that ran across the ceiling over my bed. From the limited light in our room, I had been staring at the crack for about twenty minutes hoping to get the last hour of sleep before my alarm was due to go off. My brain just couldn’t seem to shut off one undeniable thought- we were going back. In a few short hours I would get to see those kids again; to hug them, hold them, teach them, but most importantly to love them. My heart felt so full of excitement I could barely stand it. The excitement of yesterday was nothing compared to the anticipation and expectation of today. I couldn’t just lay there any longer knowing that such a short time stood between me and today, this was Day two.

My hair was still dripping wet as I grabbed my journal and backpack and quietly closed our door behind me as I ventured out into the Haitian morning heat. The air conditioning in our room was up as high as it could go so whenever you exited the room it was if you were hit with a wall of steaming humidity. Turning off the path that would lead to the lobby I took off my sandals and walked along the beach. The beach has always been one of my favorite places ever since I was little. My family used to make yearly pilgrimages to the beach for a week or two and some of my favorite family memories were made among the salt air and crashing waves. I’ve always felt centered there as if the veil between here and heaven was just a little thinner. I dragged a beach chair a little closer to the water and pulled out my Bible and journal. At home, my quiet time would be filled with a sense of urgency to get it over and done with to move on to something else after checking the box that I’ve completed my “good Christian” merit badge for the day. It had been at times like pulling teeth to sit, pray, read, and journal as if it’s more of a punishment rather than a chance for refreshment.

In the 48 hours we’ve been here I’ve craved this. Time to myself where I can sit and commune with my Creator. To talk to Him about what we saw, who we met, what we planned, and asking Him what He wanted us to do. There was a simplicity sitting there with the fresh salt air, waves crashing, and the sun rising that made me feel as if this was the most important thing I’d do today. It was almost like my Bible was pulling me in, drawing me closer like an old friend coaxing me into the quality time that they knew I was in desperate need of. The alarm on my phone went off and I knew it was time for the day to start. I closed my journal reluctantly and packed my stuff up to go over and meet everyone before breakfast.

We quickly found a rhythm in the routine all sitting together for breakfast joking around and preparing for the day. Just relaxing and enjoying each other, getting this limited time before we were mentally and physically exhausted to get to know one another better. Sipping the espresso Christian had brought back from the barista “Marie” that he had quickly befriended I sat listening to the conversation fly around me. Everyone had a story for how they ended up on this trip. For some, like me, this was their first international mission trip, for others this was a tried and true practice of service and sacrifice in their life as they give back, however, they can. As the dishes cleared we switched from breakfast to sandwich mode (thankfully without any blood). Peanut butter, jelly, and ziplock bags began getting pulled out of supply bags as Erin and Mark took their faithful place at the end of the long table to start cutting the bread for the 400 sandwiches we would make.

After all the sandwiches were safely packed away we all sat in the lobby waiting for our trusty Dago and white bus to arrive. Caillie and Jan sat braiding some of the women’s hair for the day to combat the heat. Caillie asked if I wanted a french braid but not thinking I could sit still long enough I declined thinking my hair would be safe in a ponytail. I saw the bus turn in front of the Decameron and without waiting for any of my team I grabbed my stuff and a bag of VBS supplies and headed out to meet Dago.

Once we boarded the bus and Christian prayed for the day Erin jumped into regaling the team with a story from the afternoon before. Yesterday as some were painting and others were building Erin had sat going over her lesson for today. Today she would be building off her message of faith and be talking about the concept of hope. She would be teaching from the book of Nehemiah, a smaller book in the old testament that is often overlooked and underappreciated. She wanted to teach about how the wall being rebuilt symbolized hope returning to Jerusalem. She shared how she had been trying to find some tactile example for today when Rod came out of the kitchen project holding a bag of scraps. He sat and listened as she led him through her lesson and while she was still talking Rod pulled out the scraps he was bringing out to throw away- 15 wooden blocks.

These were the discarded scraps from the kitchen project. They had been ruled worthless (just as I ruled the Legos pointless) but to Erin, they meant the world. To Erin, this was another sign that we were teaching what we were meant to. That this was further proof that God knew how important the message of hope was to not only the island of Haiti but to the kids, we would see today. Today these blocks would be used to “rebuild” the story of Nehemiah. While Erin preached on God’s desire to rebuild Haiti and bring hope through the building up of each of these children just as he used Nehemiah to bring hope back to Israel.

Believing that today would be divinely inspired we got off the bus and walked through the red rusty door into the courtyard of the Hope School. After hugs, high fives, sandwiches, and songs we would begin the lessons of the day. Looking around the courtyard there seemed to be more kids today than we had the day before. Sure that meant we were on the right track and that nothing could go wrong I went with Gammy, Mel, and Erin to go grab all the VBS supplies and began dividing it among the classrooms. In our small little craft room, Gammy and I would be facilitating a craft that I picked, making crowns- it seemed simply enough. We had strips of paper already cut out and we would be handing out crayons and stickers for the kids to decorate their their paper headbands. When they were done Gammy and I would fit the crown on their head and staple it in place.

Foolproof, faultless, at least that was what I had assumed when I pitched the craft back when we were sitting in our planning meetings months ago. As the kids were dismissed and throngs of children began streaming into all of the classrooms panic started to grip me as I counted heads of kids taking their seats mostly on the floor. We not only had a lot more kids today but we were starting our day with the older kids. I looked out in the courtyard and saw that it wasn’t just our classroom that seemed to be bursting at the seams. Yesterday we seemed full, today we seemed overcrowded. Kids were sitting on the ground and standing in the back as I handed out supplies and Gammy tried to instruct with the help of Cassandra (who we met yesterday) what we were going to be doing.

There was a different energy emitting from the room as I walked back up to get the staples and staplers out of our bags. Maybe the energy was coming from my growing anxiety that seemed to be rising from the tips of my toes and landing in my throat but I could swear that the air seemed as if it was electrified and just waiting for that first spark. As if with a bang the room erupted as hands snatched stickers and crayons from each other and kids started shouting at and over each other. Gammy went off to break up the first of what would be many fights that day and as I turned three pairs of hands were already surrounding me grabbing at the staplers to get their crowns completed. Trying to hold the “helping hands” back I tried to staple and hand back the crowns as fast as they were being thrust into my hands.

After maybe seven or eight completed headbands were passed back my stomach dropped as for the first time my flawless plan proved to have more than a few holes in it as the second of our five staplers jammed. Curious eyes watched as I tried to open and fix the stapler before more kids finished and joined the mob that seemed to form around me. Focused on the task at hand I didn’t realize what I had done until it was too late. Kneeling on the floor trying to get out of the way I had placed myself physically and literally in a corner. I looked up and froze. Paralyzed by sheer panic I realized that there was no earthly way we were gaining control of this room back.

Gammy fought her way towards me and together, with our backs to the wall we spent the next twenty or so minutes on the ground alternating between grabbing, stapling, and handing back crafts to silently arguing with the continually jamming staplers. From the five staplers we brought three had been discarded as completely useless. By the second and third rotation, we realized this day wasn’t going to get any better. No matter what we tried there was no digging our way out of this pit of insanity. I was drenched in sweat my ponytail stuck to my neck as I was squatting in the corner of our boiling cement room surrounded by kids losing their patience waiting for these stupid broken staplers to just do what they were supposed to do. They weren’t the only ones beyond frustrated. The task was so simple or at least it should have been.

As another fight broke out and Gammy went to go break it up kids started pulling at my hair and clothes trying to get me to go faster. I didn’t even realize when what was dripping down my face turned from sweat to a mixture of sweat and tears. I felt as useless and broken as those dumb dollar store staplers trying to make them work when they had no business being there. My head pounding from the heat I couldn’t even think straight. I just sat grabbing whatever was in front of me and stapling it and holding it out knowing someone, anyone would grab it and hand me something else. I didn’t even notice when Erin and Christian came into our classroom. Didn’t realize when the last of the children were pulled off me as Erin yelled for attention and Christian peeled the kids off and tried to help me to my feet. I felt shell shocked: my one job, one purpose for the day, to make crowns had been a disaster. I had failed miserably at making any sort of sense of the chaos and confusion that radiated from our class.

I jumped when Erin placed her hand on my shoulder telling me to step out, get some fresh air and water. I couldn’t even look Christian in the eye when he came back with bottles of water and bandanas that we had wet and placed in the cooler of ice for me and Gammy. Sitting on the curb I realized I was dry- my mouth was dry from dehydration and my clothes were dry which meant that at some point in all that mess I had stopped sweating or at least didn’t have anything left to sweat out. Mostly my spirit felt dry. Rung out like a sponge that had been so expectant and so certain that today would be perfect that I forgot that reality never really kept the door open for perfection.

Sitting on the curb Gammy came to join me and I just kept looking at the little tree in the middle of the courtyard trying to grow. I wanted to just be alone in my feeling of shame and go over in my head what I could have done better. Go over my mistakes in detail so I’d never make them again. Never again feel like such a liability to this team. These people that when I looked at them, especially when I looked at them as they interacted with all of these kids I saw their love and their gifts shine like beacons of hope in a place that desperately needed it. Well, at least I had made it to Tuesday before they realized that maybe I should have been left at home. Gammy got up after a few minutes and putting her hand on my shoulder said, “well tomorrow at least we won’t need the staplers.”

As kids were dismissed from their rooms to play I didn’t feel like I could get up, smile, and pretend lost in my mind and thoughts. Little Alisha who seemed to follow me around whenever she could found me on my curb and crawled into my lap. She was quite content to just sit there and watch the play and the sounds of laughter around us as Sandee and Rod broke out a jump rope to play with some of the girls. A few older girls came over to where we were sitting and felt my hair still stuck to my neck one of them with lightning speed pulled out my hair tie and began braiding my hair. By the third set of hands fighting to get a section of my scalp I realized I should have just let Caillie braid my hair when I had the chance. But it was too late and I didn’t feel like fighting them off. 

Those three girls pushed and shoved each other and pulled my scalp into submission. I realized I wasn’t going anywhere. Little Alisha looked up at them and laughed at whatever they were doing. I expected the worse and just sat accepting my fate. However, one of the Haitian women who taught at the Hope School, Samantha, came out from behind the school where the women were cooking lunch and either from the look on my face, whatever the girls were saying in Creole, or the state of my hair made her say enough was enough. Calling the girls off she came over and tried to undo my new “updo.” It took her and Jan, my teammate who is also a hairdresser, more than ten minutes to undo whatever they did. Jan was able to confirm my suspicions that my hair was more tied in knots than it was actually braided. When the damage had been undone Jan quickly through my hair in a french braid as the lunch bell sounded and the kids ran back to their classrooms.

Still on edge from the staplers earlier I hung back waiting for instructions. Christian assembled the team and we all began piling paper plates filled with spaghetti, sauce, chicken, tomato, and a carrot into our arms. Mark and Brian found a board from the kitchen project and brought it out and we also piled plates onto there for them to cart back and forth with Brent from makeshift kitchen to classroom. We started in the far corner of the school with the youngest and worked our way out to the oldest. There were so many little ones in the first room that they were sitting on the floor next to the desks to make room. The whole room waited almost with held breath until each member was served and then the teacher would tell them they could eat.

As I fell into step going from kitchen to classroom handing out paper plate after paper plate I realized just how many more kids we had then the day before. The food kept coming and as I helped load up Brian and Mark before they carried their load to the next room I noticed one of the kitchen women and Daniel speaking quickly to each other in Creole. Staying there and helping pass out the food putting a utensil on every plate we watched the food start to slow down. As we got to our last plate of food that McKenzie took to deliver the team passed around high fives to end another lunch rush. That was until Brian came back around the corner and called “two more classrooms and we’re done.” We stopped dead in our tracks looking back to the women standing over these ginormous pots of pasta. There wasn’t anything left plated for us to deliver. Daniel and Caranar came back from wherever they had gone off to and Daniel told us news that sucker punched me- we were out of plates. There were so many kids that day that we didn’t have any way to feed them. These last two classrooms filled with the older group of kids wouldn’t get any lunch today – unless they came back later after the drive to the store for plates.

I felt another blow of shame. I had noticed and saw how many kids we had. I had mentally noted that we almost ran out of sandwiches that day but didn’t say anything. I could have said something. Someone should have said something. Maybe if we hadn’t been so fixated we wouldn’t be sending home hungry children. Disgusted I realized that we would be heading back to an all you can eat paradise. We all stood around for a second not sure of what to do. We started gathering our stuff so we could head back to the Decameron. Grabbing my backpack and suitcase holding the now five broken staplers and a few handfuls of discarded stickers I crawled onto the bus and found the back corner.

The younger ones that had been fed first started leaving for the day jumping and chasing each other home. I couldn’t make eye contact with any of the kids that were standing outside our bus waiving to our team. The headache that I had blamed on dehydration and heat earlier was back forming behind my eyes as well as built up pressure feeling almost like acid reflux building from my toes to my eyes desperate to find release. My body ached with the strain of keeping it together. Why did I even get out of bed that morning? I had expected mountains to move, instead, we sent children home without something to eat. As everyone else piled on the bus obviously upset that we couldn’t feed all the kids they tried to distract each other with stories of their day.

McKenzie and Caillie told us how their skit with Mel went and how kids laughed at their funny costumes. Sandee and Georgette talked about how they had fights break out over crayons in the coloring room and had a few of the younger kids take large bites out of the crayons. Brent and Brian gave an update on the kitchen project and Rod was sure we would be able to get running water before long. When it came to our turn my cheeks burned and Gammy took over explaining what had happened throughout the day. That our craft didn’t seem to have gone as well as we could have hoped. Gammy was much more positive than I was told everyone that it could have been a lot worse and that the kids enjoyed playing with the stickers.

My team was much more merciful than I thought possible as they turned their attention and asked Erin how her lessons went.  All of the other rooms seemed to have sailed much more smoothly than ours had and the way Erin explained her lessons it seemed that at least the message of Hope was laid out for each child. In greater detail, she told us about how the kids, especially the older ones, seemed to relate to Nehemiah being an ordinary guy living among people who had lost their sense that their home could be rebuilt. She said that the older ones talked about how they could “rebuild” aspects of their families and their homes. She was so hopeful that they had started to see that one person’s actions, more specifically each of theirs, could ultimately change their family, their village, and eventually the island of Haiti.

She wanted each one of them no matter how old they are to see themselves as the Nehemiah of their life, having the power to bring hope to those around them. That ordinary kids willing to follow God’s will for their life would do amazing things. She had wanted to build off the foundation she laid the day before on Faith. How through our faith and obedience we can be beacons of hope for God.

It was encouraging to hear that things had gone so well in other parts of the day. It almost made me forget the growing pit in my stomach that was until we all piled into the dining hall and got in line for food. There was a family in front of Erin and I and one of the kids was whining to their mother saying that there was nothing to eat. Ignoring him she put a little of this and a little of that on his plate and they made their way through the line. Sitting down at our table, I looked at my plate and felt sick. Pushing the food around on my plate, I felt like I was watching our lunch rather than being there.

I wouldn’t get the chance, however, to redeem myself at least not that day. As some of the team went up for ice cream Christian turned to me and looking me in the eyes said, “I want you to stay here for the next session.” I just nodded and kept pushing food around on my plate. He told me it wasn’t a punishment, he told me that there wasn’t enough work for everyone to do back at the Hope School and while that was all true it didn’t stop the voice in my head from twisting the words. They’d rather you stay here so you can’t break anything else. He’s really just trying to make you feel better but everyone is thinking the same thing that you are-that you shouldn’t be here. It was like bands had formed around my chest making it hard for me to take a deep breath.

The pressure that had been forming all day; first behind my eyes and then throughout my whole body threatened to break free. Gammy, Erin, and McKenzie stayed behind with me and Erin thought that we’d be able to get all of the rest of the VBS supplies for our last day at the Hope School prepped and ready to go. So after saying our goodbyes to the rest of the team Erin and I went and grabbed the rest of the VBS supplies from Caillie’s and my room. Dragging the bags down with us she asked if I was okay. I didn’t know Erin that well, at least not before this trip, but I felt as if I’d met a kindred spirit. I told her that I thought I let the team down but more painstakingly I told her that I thought I let God down. That I felt more in the way then in His will. She nodded knowingly and just let me talk myself out while we made our way to where Gammy and McKenzie had pulled beach chairs together so we could work in the sand. The only words of comfort she gave (which was a comfort in and of itself) was, “Sometimes things break, sometimes the thing that breaks is yourself. Don’t let today ruin your tomorrow.”

While we sat we got all of the hearts cut out and we pre-wrote Jesus loves you in Creole on them so rather ask them to write that out and then color the hearts we’d just let them color the hearts. The other activity we had planned was making necklaces. The string was already cut but we tied beads to the other end so that way they just had to string a few beads and they could tie the ends (we were just going to do these with the older kids). I thought the work and the sound of the Sea would soothe my aching soul but the longer we worked the more antsy I felt. The pressure built up in my system longed for some sort of release. Some sort of escape from the pain of the constant ache. My chest still felt as if I couldn’t breathe even though we sat laughing while I listened to Gammy and Erin tell old stories of the first few VBS summers the church ever had back home. By the time we were done, I couldn’t hold back the inevitable. I knew that one was coming from the first pain behind my eyes that morning. Like someone knew a storm was ready to roll through to relieve the sky my body sought to release the panic it had stored up from my morning.

Excusing myself from the group I got through my door and slid to the floor of the bathroom when it finally hit. The first wave of a panic attack is always the worst and for me the longer I push it off the worse they hit back. Crawling over to the toilet my stomach lost the little lunch I had tried to keep down. Shaking on the floor I waited for it to pass. I waited for my body to relieve the tension it had collected while my mind raced with all the fears and anxieties that had been consuming me the whole day but I had tried to ignore. Shame. Failure. Disappointment. Perceived rejection. These all took their turns pounding away at my soul until finally I felt the crescendo cease and fatigue take hold. I didn’t feel as if I had energy as my mind and body longed for rest but I knew the day wasn’t over.

I stood under the water stream in the boiling hot shower letting the hot water soothe my aching body. Now that the worst was over, now that simply enduring what came had ended I could finally feel. I could finally breathe and with a deep breath came the floodgates. I stood in the shower and it all rolled through me anew. Not just the accusations of my mind like before but the whole day played back from my eager expectation to the look of the last child I saw walking home after they couldn’t get lunch. Christian’s look as he asked me to stay behind- ask or did he tell me? I couldn’t remember. I couldn’t make sense of everything that was said or how it was said from Christian to Erin to even Gammy at the curb of the school. Everything felt tainted and I felt the most exposed as I sat thinking about how expectant I was earlier convinced that we would have a good day. 

When there was nothing left to cry and there was nothing left to feel, I pulled on my most comfortable pants and with a hoodie climbed beneath the covers. I felt utterly empty. Spent from the forty-five minutes it took for the whole episode to unfold. I didn’t want to see anyone and I definitely didn’t want to talk to anyone. I found peace as I drifted in and out of sleep for the next hour and a half until I heard a bang of the door as Caillie came back from painting. She took a look at me and knew something wasn’t right. She came over to her bed and took off her shoes and pulling up her legs she just sat there looking at me. No judgment that I was hiding under my covers. No expectation that I needed to spill my whole life story. Just a friendly ear, just a lifeline back to the team. She’d never know this but in that instance, I felt like she was a direct hand of God reaching out when I needed comfort.

For almost two hours we had until dinner we talked. We talked about our fears that God had forgotten about us or almost more terrifyingly that He knew exactly who we were and saw us just as we are.  I told her the whole story about the staplers and how I felt as useless as those stupid staplers now living in our trashcan. I told her about my troubles with ministry- that it had become passionless and felt pointless. Like I was pretending to be someone that I wasn’t. I shared that I felt like my story was shifting- that the time in my current ministry had come to an end and that God had something different planned for me. But was I willing to accept that?

While we talked and we shared I learned a lot about Caillie. One of the most vital things I learned is this- that she sees the absolute best in everyone. That she sees the potential and good that each person has to bring. With her not only encouraging me but also willing to break down her own walls of vulnerability I took my first easy breath. I was worried that God would become silent in my life and in that worry I started yelling over His voice. I was missing the whole point. Caillie asked me where the hope came from in the story of Nehemiah that we had been talking about the past couple days. Well in the story the hope came from rebuilding the walls. Caillie looked at me square in the face and asked me why they were able to rebuild them. I didn’t understand the question. She looked at me and with such sincerity said, “First the walls had to be burned down.” That hit home as tomorrow could be a new day for beginning the process of rebuilding myself. That would start with getting up out of my hiding spot, taking a deep breath, and walking out into whatever God had planned next rather than my own agenda.