Haiti - Day 6

I just updated you today, but I’ll do it again.

We’ve never been so happy to hear car horns blaring as we were today. The Tap Taps were back, so the nation was alive again!

One of the team leads from Haiti showed up to the compound this morning with a giant grin that wouldn’t quit. Smiles like that don’t belong on Mondays. When asked why he was so happy, he said “This was the first time in longer than I can remember that we had elections without any violence. Do you know what that means? It means that we are finally going somewhere. We have a long way to go but my Haiti is going somewhere.”

Today our teams were split back into 3 groups again. Peter, Katie, and Kelly were back on the Mobile Medical Unit, but this time they went to the same village we did in Source Matelas (Seuss Maht-lah). They were short a doctor, but still saw 75 patients today. And a dozen people accepted Christ. So cool.

The rest of us planted trees.

Now I know what you’re thinking, because it’s what I thought when I first heard of it. Wait, what? Planting trees? How does THAT spread the gospel? Now that I know, it makes perfect sense.

Fruit trees are a luxury, and a fairly rare commodity. Once they take root and begin to produce fruit, it first feeds the family. Then the more it grows, the more it produces, and soon it gives a product to sell, which in turn feeds the community, and helps produce a family job.

But there’s more. Because I’ve come to discover that every single little thing Mission of Hope does is saturated in purpose.

When we plant a tree for a family, we don’t just plant it and leave.

We don’t drive through the village and drop the tree off at their house, but we carry the trees, the tools, the dirt all the way across the village. It gathers quite a crowd.

When we arrive, we talk with the family.

We spend about an hour with them, alongside the Village Champions (see former posts for an explanation).

We learn their names.

We hear their story.

They ask US questions.

We talk about family, food, and faith.

We hold their babies.

Their children sneeze and snot on us.

We share the story of Jesus.

We tell them that with their tree comes a great responsibility to take care of others. And unlike a more individualistic American culture, Haitian culture is others-centric. It is very communal.

One of the families saw earthworms in the dirt and were afraid that they were a bad thing, so we taught them about earthworms (looks like my 7^th grade biology actually came in handy!) and about healthy soil.

We tell them that their tree is a picture of what happens when the good news of God takes root in the soil of their heart.

We place our hands on them and pray for them (with their permission).

And when we do this, their neighbors see it, too. Which brings new discussions.

Along the way, I met a kid who had a name that was way too long to pronounce, even for our interpreter, so we called him DiDi.  Actually, I called him Superman because that’s who was on his shirt. He saw my “tatu” (tattoo) and told me he’d like to play a real piano one day. He was very excited to show me their family pig, and he nearly lost his mind laughing when I made a pig noise and a fart noise. From that moment on, he was glued to my side. Then he climbed on my back. Then onto my head.

Which reminded me that there are 4 universal languages that every kid on every continent speaks: Love, Fun, Music, and Fart sounds.

Tomorrow is a full day, and we’re trying to cram in as many of the things we missed over the weekend as we can, AND we still have to paint two houses, so we’re packing our stuff tonight.

But we're currently stuck on in the cafeteria waiting for a break in the impromptu "monsoon in our lagoon." Seriously feels/looks/sounds like a waterfall just broke above us from heaven. We aren't complaining, though. It's a nice change from the heat. The rain cooled the air by probably 15 degrees in a matter of 5 minutes :-) 

If you’re praying for our team, pray that our bodies feel rested and limber tomorrow, and that we’ll be energized. We can’t believe it’s our last day here. It’s gone by waaaay too fast.

As always, thank you for all your support, your shoutouts, and your prayers. We actually prayed for YOU tonight, and thanked God for each of you. We hope you feel loved.

See you soon!