“Now, brothers and sisters, I want to remind you of the gospel I preached to you, which you received and on which you have taken your stand. By this gospel you are saved, if you hold firmly to the word I preached to you. Otherwise, you have believed in vain.”     1 Corinthians 15: 1-2

Legos were still fresh on my mind when we finished up lunch Thursday afternoon. Here we were less than a week later from me cursing those bags filled with Legos and they may have been the most precious and important thing packed. Thankfully God’s will is more powerful than my stubbornness. 

Our afternoon was different than what we had grown used to. Rather than rushing through a meal to get back on the bus for our afternoon session we had “free time.” Time to decompress, relax, and recharge before we went back to the Hope School for what was being described as a “crusade.” People had been invited, the gates would be thrown open, and Christian would be preaching with Daniel interpreting the message. But until then we had four hours to kill. 

I found myself less than an hour later floating in the crystal clear gorgeous water with almost all of our team enjoying some Sea Therapy. Blissfully relaxed and enjoying random chatter as people enjoyed each other’s company and asking questions about their lives back home. I learned a lot about my team that day. Nothing traumatizing or embarrassing but I learned about their passions, their hearts, and their journeys that lead them to where we are today. God was doing something amazing in each one as they took up their tools and manned their stations everyday with each and every task we faced. I had been so consumed at times with my own journey, with what God was doing in Haiti and through me, that to have this precious time to stop and look out and watch as each teammate explained how their lives were being changed by these same experiences was incredibly humbling.

 McKenzie the youngest on our team was filled with passion and gut wrenching desire to care and fix what she could for these kids. Sandee and Mark who had been blessed with growing their family through adoption had an amazing God given perspective on the orphans and broken families that we met. Brian and Erin who were so entrenched in children’s ministry and evangelizing to those at the age of innocence broke open as the kids we met here were forced to grow up so quickly and harshly forgoing their stage where innocence reigned and imagination was king. I could keep going as each person was so perfectly set to where they needed to be and watching that was such a comfort and an honor to witness.

Eventually we all climbed out of the Sea and made our way back to our rooms to get ready for a church service unlike anything we would be used to. As Caillie and I changed back into our church clothes from Sunday I put makeup on for the first time in days almost more out of habit than anything. It’s not like my team hadn’t seen me drenched in sweat, tears, and dirt these last few days. You enter into a whole new level of vulnerability when you are forced to spend so much time with people in these conditions.

It was weird seeing everyone back in “dress clothes” as we gathered in the lobby. Everyone still gripped their backpacks of gear but the girls were sporting dresses or skirts, the guys in nice tops and khakis, it was definitely a change of pace from our normal “uniforms” of shorts, t-shirts, and grime. (Oh and have I mentioned the sweat?) It was almost awkward wearing “normal” clothes almost like we were out of place. As the bus pulled up we shuffled on and made our way down the familiar stretch of highway. There was no woman at the breadcart when we took the turn that would lead us to the Hope School. 

Kids were playing in front of their homes or racing each other through the street as we continued down what had become a very familiar and friendly route. Familiar faces lifted their hands in hellos as we drove by and kids abandoned soccer balls to chase our bus to beat us to our destination. When we pulled up at the Hope School the fence to the backlot (or “soccer field”) was wide open. How could it have only been yesterday that these gates were locked shut with people gathering behind closed doors? Today there would be no barrier, no closed doors, only open arms and a message of Hope and Love. 

A sound system even a youth ministry wouldn’t have taken back in the States blasted Creole Worship music as people began filling the field talking with friends and finding seats. No longer clumping in groups of “Blans” the team split up some to go and find familiar faces in the mounds of kids others to go over and see the adults many of them knew a few words or phrases of English. While little ones flooded to our outstretched arms we wouldn’t have games or skits for them tonight.

As the night began and the music dimmed Daniel began interpreting Christian’s welcoming prayer. Little Alisha climbed into my lap and kissed my cheek. Like nothing had changed. Like she hadn’t been turned away the day before (it appeared this was more traumatizing for me rather than her). Settling in we listened to the worship music as the band of stereo, singer, a guitarist, and a drummer played to others what seemed a familiar tune. It was a strange thing to hear what was pumping through the sound system as children and adults all around me lifted hands and voices in Creole having no idea what they were singing around me. As Alisha and other kids around me lifted their arms to worship, tears flowed freely down my face. I realized that there wouldn’t be any hope of getting through this night without breaking my heart in a few more places as we’d have to again say goodbye to all these amazing friends we had made.

One of the women from the kitchen, I had gotten to know, brought over her little baby and gave me a hug and a kiss on the cheek. As Magdala handed me her precious little boy she scurried off to where another woman I met from the Hope School, Samantha was sitting. Adding him to the group of littles that huddled around me he curled up in the crook of my elbow. I melted looking at his beautiful ebony skin and his tiny fingers and toes as he nestled in my arms. Watching this sleeping baby, surrounded by little ones listening intently to Christian and Pastor Daniel I was at peace. This was why I was here. Not because of Legos or Staplers but because these precious little souls were hearing that they were loved not only by their families or by us, but by a God that loved them enough to die for them. 

I’m sure the message was great, at least that’s what people said, but I don’t remember a single word of it. I remember that at one point the little boy woke up and he stared at me with his curious little brown eyes. Eyes that didn’t yet know hate or hurt. Eyes that didn’t know that they were destined for a harder path just by being born in Haiti. I snuggled him a little closer and drowned out the voices over the sound system as I just sat covered in sweat and dirt with this little one pressed against my chest.

At what I can only assume was the end of the message I looked up as someone called my name. Pastor Daniel and Christian stood on their platform with outstretched arms offering the only worthwhile gift we have to offer- Christ. Men, Women and Children made their way to the platform kneeling down to pray. I got up with the little one still clutched in my arms and I went towards the platform. Other members of the team did the same as I looked over and saw Gammy laying hands on an elderly women and with tears down her face she prayed over the women’s life and health. Then there was Erin who was praying over a group of teenagers that spoke to Pastor Daniel. Christian and Brent laid hands over a group of men as one of the men unashamedly wept. I saw a little girl no more than six standing there looking completely terrified. She looked around at what everyone else was doing and knelt down. 

I don’t remember walking over there but I remember kneeling next to her shifting the once again sleeping baby to my other shoulder as I drew her near to me. Speaking Creole she cried out and I can only imagine the words she prayed. Words came pouring out of my mouth as tears rushed down my face. I have no idea how but I felt like both our hearts knew what the other offered. When she was done she looked into my eyes and smiled as if she was reborn, and perhaps she was. 

Pastor Daniel called everyone towards the platform and with both arms reaching towards heaven prayed over the crowd. With his hands returning to his side he dismissed the service. Our group mingled with the kids playing one last time as sound equipment was taken down and people started making their way back home. I found the woman from the kitchen as she came out to the field calling for Pastor Daniel. She led him back into the school area of the compound and I followed with her little one fast asleep in my arms. It wasn’t hard to find them, not just because the compound isn’t complex or expansive but because they were making so much noise. As the crusade was coming to a close, Rod had faithfully gone back to the kitchen where they had built cabinets and worked to bring running water to the sink. Where they had worked hard and long to bring something that would last much longer than we could stay. 

The noise I heard were shouts of joy and celebration. As I walked in the kitchen I saw what all the noise was about- there was running water flowing in the kitchen sink. No longer would the women be forced to wash hundreds of cups, plates, and silverware in buckets behind the school. I walked into grown men hugging, crying, and staring in awe over that running faucet. I walked up to Magdala and tried to hand her son back to her. She pulled me in a tight hug and kissed both my cheeks and said “Merci.” Moving to grab Rod and Brent who had made his way into the ruckus she grabbed everyone she could to give them the only thing she had, her gratitude. When she had hugged everyone in the room I walked back up to her and handed her the sleeping baby. She took him and looked me in the eyes as she bundled him close. She said, “Orevwa, zanmi m’” (Goodbye my friend) and made her way to the compound gates. 

That’s when I realized that this was really goodbye. There was no guarantee that I would ever see them again. My chest felt like metal bands where compressing my lungs as I tried to take a deep breath. My eyes burned from trying to fight back tears as I slowly as if in slow motion walked back to where we just held church. I saw Jan and Georgette taking pictures with some of the older girls. Sandee snuggling a little one and Caillie with a little boy on her hip. Little Alisha as if on cue grabbed my hand and the floodgates finally broke free. 

This was goodbye not just to a trip or to some kids this could be goodbye to the version of myself that I had found. The version that would pick up a crying child and step out in faith maybe with pause but would still be willing to go. Who would step outside of the “safe” gates to go where I was needed rather than just where I wanted. I had found what actual need looked like and saw that I had something to offer. Not everything, but something. Emotions flooded through my very being as Dago and the white bus pulled up and Christian started to call everyone to pack it up. Pulling Alisha into my arms I sat in a small little chair that someone must have used for the service and cried.

She pulled back and wiped the tears from my face, her eyes filled with confusion. She smiled. It wouldn’t be the first or the last time a group of strangers would come into her life. Maybe she changes our lives more than we change hers. As I gathered my things she walked hand and hand with me to the bus as we all begrudgingly started to board. She waved as I climbed onto the bus and grabbed a window seat to have one last look at the school as we made our final departure.

The bus ride back was dead silent. A silence that you could cut with a knife. As we all filed off the bus Christian stood next to the bus door and as everyone got off the bus he thanked us for our service, for being willing to let our hearts break. We all sat down for dinner but I was too tired to eat. Too tired for just about anything I sat in between Erin and Mel as everyone ate and barely spoke. We figured that nothing we could see next could be as difficult as what we just did, but we had no idea what we were going to be getting ourselves into as we ventured into St. Marc the next day and the broken hearts and people we would find.