The few days leading up to Haiti were probably the most stressful days I’ve had in my entire life. I’m pretty sure I cried multiple times. Once I was sitting in the van with no power to do anything but sit, I took a big breath.
I really had no expectations of what we would be doing in Haiti. I really had no idea what Haiti would even look like up close. I had my backpack on my back full of the list of suggested items and my pillow. Because you know Americans. Comfort first right?
The second we stepped outside the airport in Port Au Prince I was overwhelmed. People yelling at you trying to take your bags and asking for money. I tried to keep a step behind Michael so I wouldn’t be left behind. We all threw our bags in the back of a big truck and my team jumped into the bed of the truck to sit on a bench for the next two hours as we made our way through the crazy traffic.
Fourth World Poverty slapped me in the face as we drove to our host house in the mountains. We saw starving people on the side of the road. People with ripped up clothing and shoes that were practically falling off their feet. Little kids who looked like they hadn’t eaten in weeks. Trash covering the street and so many people trying to make a living selling things that Haitians can’t even buy. The hardest part was when they would look you right into the eyes. I can’t even describe the amount of emotions that rushed through my heart and all the thoughts I had. Spiritual warfare was invading as I sat there holding back tears for the brokenness passing by. That night I wrote,
“I felt so silly sitting in the bed of this truck among all our luggage with my pink pillow in my lap and wide eyes. I’m sure the Haitians laughed at the little American girl taking in their poor country.
Oh. My. Gosh.
I wanted to throw everything I had in my hands off the truck and appologize.
This place is heartbreaking”