Jumping Hurdles

 

Whenever I am here in the States I never consider myself a huge kid person. There are a couple here and there that I've bonded with, but I've never gone out of my way to be around a child or to play with some. So I've found it a bit strange that anytime I visit Haiti it never fails that I find myself attached to the children. Their love is truly infectious and I can't help but show my whole heart to them when I'm there.

In years past I've only been able to play with the children during recess time in summer school, but then they go home for the evening and I find myself a bit lonelier in their absence. This time, however, Sherrie had nearly 40 orphans living with her, so I had the chance to reconnect with a couple of former students, seriously bond with a few and play to my hearts content with the rest. I was in heaven.

This also proved a serious problem to me: guilt for leaving. These children see people come and go every month nearly all year round. They don't have a lot of consistency of love shown to them except what they show within their own group and from Sherrie and her staff. Granted, they are taken care of. Sherrie is quite the mother hen and provides for all 40 of them to the best of her ability, but most of these children have suffered terrible loses either from death of family or full-on abandonment because their family couldn't support them. That pounds a heavy hit on a child, and when a group of "wealthy" Americans comes in to provide some help and show them some love, only to leave them in a week or two after getting attached, well... that hardly seems fair.

I try to give these kids everything I've got when I'm there. I don't like to hold back. It pains me to see some of them shy away from me for the first few days I'm in town, then finally open up to me, only to get angry or sad and refuse me a farewell hug or say goodbye because I'm just another American leaving again. Some of them don't even try to open up, and I think that wounds me more than the former. I try not to feel guilty, I try to tell myself that it's not my problem- I've done some good there, and they already trust and know love from loving each other. Somehow that still doesn't feel like it should be enough. They deserve more. I know I can always visit, but in the end I'm always leaving.

In the past week of processing and trying to adjust back to America I find I keep hitting a wall when it comes to this issue. It's probably the highest hurdle I have to clear, but do I have to jump it at all? Can I just be content with being discontented until I can one day resolve the issue by not having to leave again? I wish I knew the outcome, but I guess that's part of the journey...

                                 

Changes

It had been three years since I was last here at the Christian Light Ministries School in Port-au-Prince. There were a few reasons why I waited so long to return, a couple of which were lack of funds and not getting enough time off work. I didn't realize the main reason, 'til I actually got here, was fear.


I usually pride myself on taking change in stride, being flexible and spontaneous, simply living on the wind and having faith that everything will be okay. I'm finally starting to realize that was just a facade I was striving to make reality. I've really been more gripped by fear and rigidity in the past couple of years than I knew.


The two times I had gone to Haiti before were filled with amazing memories. I went with a few very special people, made friends with a couple others, we worked really hard and we did a lot of good. After leaving in 2008 the hurricane hit and our friend Sherrie took in a lot of orphans from Gonaives. Then in 2010 the earthquake took the life of one of my favorite students, leveled half of Sherrie's house (above) and caused her to take in a few more orphans and move into her unfinished school down the street.


Lots of change.


I wasn't there when any of this happened, but I still ran away. I wasn't ready to see the damage for myself. I wasn't ready to dive in to a place where ~40 orphans, starved for love, would vie for my attention and hugs. I wasn't ready to share a room with several other women in a schoolhouse. I wanted to hold and tickle and play little Peterson again and I wanted her home back.


As it turned out, I felt more at home being squeezed into a little room with 4 other women, in the middle of a construction site than I ever did in that big mansion down the street. It was noisy, chaotic and full of activity every single waking moment, from sun-up to sun-down every single day. Love hit me like a wall of sound at a rock concert from each orphan and I didn't have to even think about how to love them back. Simply allowing a child to wrap their arms around me, pronouncing words in a book for them, or just holding a sick child in my lap and letting his fever break on me was enough. I have never felt more at peace, or more at home.


Change can be a good thing, no matter how scary or uncomfortable. It can hurt- a lot, but try to remember to let it to stretch you and help you grow more flexible and courageous. You want these kind of stretch marks, the scars help you remember from where you've come. You'll be surprised by what you'll learn about yourself  when you look back on them.