Before I begin, I have a warning for you: there is no possible way to accurately convey what I experienced. I have so many stories, but even if I could sit you down, if you could see my face and hear my voice, if you could feel the depth of emotion in me, even then you wouldn't understand. Haiti is something that will never be experienced second-hand. Even still, I'll do my best to recap.
Just for background information, we visited the children at the orphanage and feeding center multiple times during our visit. The orphanage is pretty self explanatory but you may not know what the feeding center is. Parents bring their children there when they can't feed them. They leave them behind for six months and do not visit, the catholic nuns at the center give the children protein and special formulas to end their malnutrition. Most of the children are sick as well; the workers take care of their diseases and treat them the best they can. After their six months are up the children are returned to their parents, no matter their physical condition. Usually the parents take them back, but not always. If not, they are transferred to an orphanage.
So we spent three hours with these children four or five times while we were in Haiti, and suffice it to say we fell in love. They have a love that exceeds all circumstance and joy that trumps all fear. Most the children laugh and run and play... but not all. There are those who won't play, who won't hug and sing. My heart broke every time I looked at them because I knew. I knew the reason they just sat: because something happened to them, so awful that they are too broken to accept love. Those were the children I just wanted to pick up, squeeze, and tell how much I loved them, and how much Jesus did too.
A few times I did just that. Sometimes I was met with little response, but I broke through with one of my little friends named Kiki. Not only was Kiki small, reserved, and sad-looking, he also was the center of the other children's teasing. Now the bullying in Haiti is not nearly as bad as we see in America. In general, the children respect each other quite well. Kiki, however, was picked on. I spent hours one day trying to get him to smile... without success. That night there was a thunderstorm, and Kiki looked a bit frightened or at very least tired. So I picked Kiki up and I held him. I held him for a long while, singing softly, rocking him back and forth. This was a nine year old boy that I was holding, rocking and comforting, but to me he was just a little baby who was never properly loved. He went home shortly after the storm ended, and I made one of the older boys promise to walk him home safely. I thought that might've been the end of Kiki, but the next day he returned with his sister. This Kiki was not like the other. He was still reserved and quiet, but he smiled more frequently and hesitated less.
Kiki was just one of the many children in Haiti with whom I fell in love, but he taught me a lesson. The children of Haiti have beautiful souls, but they have incredible wounds. Pursuing them is worth every risk, and every minute. Kiki was much like we are in America, towards God. He was wounded in the past. It kept him from accepting and giving love freely. He was too frightened to trust someone he didn't really know. Yet just as I relentlessly pursued and love him, so God does with us. He does not hesitate or hold back; He loves us with an undying passion. All we have to do is let Him hold us to realize His perfect love, and our need for it.
One morning the girls of the trip were woken at 5:40 am. I won't get into the specific alarm but let's just say it was positively annoying so early in the morning. Anna - our leader - threatened playing Taylor Swift if we wouldn't get out of bed and so we all grudgingly awoke. The goal, though we hadn't known it until that morning - was to wake up and follow the life of a woman who worked at the compound. The workers begin at six, and so did we. Dishes were the first step. Scrubbing, rinsing, drying. All in all not too bad of a job, even at six in the morning. Next we did laundry. This was a bit more of a challenge. The Haitian women have a very strategic system for cleaning their clothing.. one that involves a specific type of scrubbing and a great deal of soap. Needless to say by the time they finished showing me how to do it and correcting my mistake, my knuckles were raw from the scrubbing. We finished all of the laundry though and then cooked breakfast. 
We also did chores like sweeping, mopping, and general tidying. We hung the clothes on lines to dry. We cleaned after lunch and stayed up late that night doing dishes. I began to wonder when - if ever - the Haitian people sleep. Following them around for a day was a rude awakening. They work hard... not so hard that they can't ever rest, but harder than we're used to in America. I get home from an eight hour shift at work and I'm pooped, even yet I've got a substantial amount of money in my pocket. In Haiti, the women work that hard just to keep their homes in order. Even yet they insist on joking and playing while they work. Their humor always made me smile. 
So after that day I made it a habit to frequently approach them and ask "Ede ou?" ... Help you? They often laughed me off, knowing how little I would be capable of helping with, but just as often they would nod and give me something to do. It felt good to know that I was contributing. Since returning to America I've tried to keep that attitude. While people rarely slave all day just to tidy their homes, there are definitely ways that we can help those around us. Whether it be at work, school, home, or the grocery store, an attitude to help will always find opportunity. Try it out for a day. Look for places to help and things to do everywhere you go... with everyone you meet. If anything it will make you grateful for all the ways you don't need help. We have a lot in America; the great thing is that the more you have, the more you can give. 
