Feels Like Coming Home

It was the weirdest feeling. I almost didn't lean out the window to catch a glimpse of the island as we started our descent. It had been an extremely long night, sleeping in the Newark airport rather than opting for a hotel room this time. I was freezing and huddled under my bath towel for 4 1/2 hours, just waiting for the first airport restaurant to open. Our flight left Newark 4 hours after my first cup of coffee and I was exhausted. I slept a little of the 4 hour flight but mostly prayed. Prayed that I would have enough emotional energy to sustain whatever would come, prayed for our little man that he would be willing to be himself, prayed for the kids at Haiti Lifeline that we would be with for a week, prayed for the team in South Dakota who was finishing their preparations to come 2 days after we arrived, prayed that our old plane would make it across the Atlantic corridor safely into Haiti and prayed that God would use me.

At the last minute, I opened my window shade and leaned over to take a look. "It feels like coming home" was literally the thought that popped in my head. This was my third trip in 8 months to a country that I never dreamed I would get a chance to visit once. I love the people, the sights, the food and my unexpected feeling of awe at the way a country can exude so much national pride with seemingly nothing to take pride in by Western standards. We landed, walked down the stairs onto the tarmac and over to the bus that takes us to immigration with ease as though it was the way it's done everywhere. The air was cool and after a shivering night, it was not a pleasant surprise. Tracy gathered our bags after easing our way through immigration and we began "the walk". The other 2 trips I/we were greeted by Patrick or one of his Haitian helpers to get us to the vehicle. You see, as you leave the airport, the"red shirts" are immediately there wanting to help you with your bags, help you get a ride, help, help, help. They always reassure you that they know who you are waiting for and that they can help you find them. None of this comes free and so we have to be careful to hold our bags tight, politely say, "No, mesi" and continue forward as though we know what we are doing even if we don't have a clue. We hadn't been in contact with Emily or Nicole personally so the panicked thoughts went through my head of what would we do scenarios if someone wasn't there to greet us. I don't know enough Creole to talk my way out of a box! At the end of the long outdoor corridor between baggage pick-up and the parking lot, there was Emily's smiling self waiting to greet us. The sight of her melted away all panic. Soon after that, we were pleasantly surprised that Mama Nicole came, too (the orphanage director). No sooner than we had our bags loaded and we were securely in the SUV, it began to rain.

Our trip to Haiti Lifeline was a quick drive relative to Haiti travel. It was a road very familiar since there is only 1 main road that goes from Port-au-Prince to Croix des Bouquet. Christopher knew we were coming and in his coy way he greeted us with great big cuddly hugs. We got to eat right away even though it was 3:00 in the afternoon by the time we sat down. It was an enormous spread. Nicole and I had many conversations about Haiti's way of life and eating and being hospitable. I gobbled up the delicious food and any words that this dear lady had to share. It feels like getting to know Christopher's family and I am always so eager to hear any tidbit of her life and his that she has to share.


We flew in on Wednesday afternoon and wouldn't see the rest of our team until Friday afternoon. Our first few days were the 2 of us and 2 other guys from Kansas, Phil and David. It felt like Tracy got put to work right away after we got our things to our rooms. Christopher was given the choice to sleep with me, Papa or in his own bed. He chose me. I didn't bring enough clothes since I really didn't know what to expect, whether he would be with me or more independent, if he wanted what was familiar, if he was even aware of how it worked. I think he has seen enough mamas and papas come to know the routine. You get to be in the guesthouse eating all their food, wearing their clothes and being treated like a king! That's what he wanted so up to his room and his room mama, Mama Delva, to get more clothes and say Hi to all his roomies. I know many of them through their parents on Facebook. It is so special to see each face and know how loved they are by an awaiting family. I hugged and kissed them all with a little twinge of sadness for Mama Delva as I realized that she would be saying goodbye to all her babies within the next year and getting another 10-12 kids to love and take care of. She doesn't speak any English. I would love to ask her - does she ever think about the goodbyes?

There are so many details floating and I am trying to sort through what happened when. I didn't take my computer and typing on my i-Pad was too daunting of a task, especially if I took it outside the guesthouse. The kids were very eager for technology toys and I obliged until I realized they were spending more time hovered around a game than wanting to interact with me or each other (sound like any kid you know?) I resorted to taking my morning coffee to the school room with my journal which only got confiscated by more children who wanted to impress me with their writing skills. I had them write their names. That is one of my most treasured couple of sheets in that journal. It brought tears to my eyes as I thought of how each of my girls used to doodle their names and gibberish in amongst my scrawl. The thought that kept coming to me over and over was - these kids aren't much different than my girls.

My camera got taken while I was trying to journal

Always drinking coffee

I know not much of this first entry is about Christopher. This trip was longer than the other 2 trips and God had so much happen that I felt I had better start unpacking one thought stream at a time. Rest assured, I have much more to share. God has more to share with you, too, through my words. I can't wait to have time to pen them all.