How Lucky I Have Been
I am writing this update from the balcony of my hotel room in Port de Paix, overlooking the wide expanse of the ocean off the northern coast of Haiti, watching as the waters finally steady and calm themselves after a tropical storm passed through last night. A tropical storm that I got to watch from the front row seat of my hotel window.
Last week at this time, I was settling into a small bungalow tucked away on the southern most coast of Haiti, just outside the city of Jacmel. These few days of rest and exploration included beach days with fresh lobster and stand-up paddleboarding in the ocean(falling into the ocean with each passing wave), afternoons wandering the small art boutiques and mosaic boulevard in the city, and a trip to Bassin Bleu, hidden deep within the mountains outside the city, where we hiked and jumped off cliffs and swam in 75’ deep crystal blue waters, all while staring in awe at the four breathtaking waterfalls that run into the bassin.
The week before, I was having dinner with two good friends in the city of Kenscoff, a small town in the tall mountains looming over Port au Prince. I haven't been able to make a trip to visit in far too long because of Covid quarantine and political unrest and sabbaticals, and we were given the gift of connecting just before a stunningly beautiful 6 hour hike the next day in Furcy, where we wandered down paths of gardens and were offered everything from fresh flowers to broccoli from the farmers we passed. We made it all the way to a small waterfall and stream, only to lose our path back up, having to scale the entire side of the muddy mountain hand and foot to find our way back to the top. It was perfect.
On each of these trips, I have had the incredible opportunity to share the work I have poured my heart into for the past several years. I have gotten to share it with friends, trusting the ways they will implement it into their existing work, because we have shared our hearts and passion for this important work for years. I know I can pass my torch to them and watch how much further they carry it. I have also gotten to form new relationships; to hear how other people came to share a love for this country and this work as I have, and have been given the opportunity to share my curriculums as resources to them as they get started. On a few occasions, I have been asked to travel and train Haitian staff for an organization whose expats are stuck outside of Haiti, and I get to step into that gap and come alongside their staff on the ground, training them to teach my curriculum, implement my protocols and program structures, and help them trouble shoot any problems they are having in this especially challenging time in Haiti. So far, I have shared my work - my infant/caregiver and family nutritioncurriculums, my program models and my experiences - with 22 organizations, from every corner of Haiti.
AND THAT ISN’T ALL. A little over one week ago I journeyed to Port au Prince with Woodenschly, his mother, Leila, and his baby sister for his FINAL appointment EVER. His feet are healed and he can run and play and will never have to see another doctor or surgeon again. Dieunide, one of my closest friends, delivered a baby and came dangerously close to losing her life, but praise God Leila and I were able to be with her, to get her to care, and to stay with her for the following week, and she is healed and feeling like her normal self again. I have spent my (few) days at home this month sitting in my yard hearing the stories of my closest friends. Worshipping and praising God at His goodness for crossing our paths and bringing us into each other’s life when He did. I have spent my evenings running in the beautiful mountains outside Gonaives with Jako and drinking Prestige and worshipping on my rooftop at sunset. I have found such deep joy, in my travels and in my time at home, in relationships and reflecting alone on all that Haiti has given me.
I think you can all probably guess the announcement that I’m about to follow this up with. My time in Haiti is ending. And the tears are flowing as I’m writing this, as they should be, as I piece by piece say goodbye to this country that has been my home for the past 5 years. I didn’t know what I was walking into when I came to work in Haiti 5 years ago. I could have never expected the countless ways my time here has challenged and stretched and grown me. I have walked out heartbreaking grief, terrifying moments of crisis, and deeply rewarding experiences in this country. I have seen sick children breathe new life in their bodies and I have seen healing come in all it's forms, both through God's miraculous grace and through the hard work and daily efforts of people fighting to find justice for a child. I have seen families reunited and what the true meaning of community is, when community is all you have. I have watched as the pure force of a mother's unconditional love for her child wills them back to health, and witnessed the limitless bounds a woman would go to to protect her family. I have sat in and shared the shattering grief when it was not enough. I have learned to do life alone in the hardest of places, how to form new relationships across the confines of language and culture, and to rely on God in all seasons, when the act of surrender and reliance was my only choice.
I knew when I returned to Haiti early this year that it would be for my final chapter here. The only thing I asked God entering into this last season was that I not have to leave in the midst of trauma - in the throws of Covid or political unrest - as so many missionaries here have had to do in the past 2 years. God has far exceeded every expectation and desire I had for my final season; I am traveling to every corner of this exquisite country, sharing my work with so many people who will continue it long after I’m gone and expand the reach and effects of the education far wider than I ever could on my own. Infants will be kept in family homes, cared for in the absence of their mother, bonded with a caregiver, and women will learn how to care for their babies to give them the highest chances of survival in their first year of life, all across the country. And I will transition back to America, and see what life after this looks like. This transition will be so hard, it already is so hard, it hurts just to write it out now. But I have so much peace in this timing. God is giving me a final season to fall in love with Haiti again, to reflect on the work I have done here, and to just be in the relationships I have made here for a little while longer. He is giving me every open door to leave nothing undone and no work unfinished. It has been a great honor to get to do this work and live out this calling over the past 5 years; at the end of it all, I still cannot believe how lucky I have been.