Countdown to Reverse-Culture Shock

Hello, dear friends. I cannot excuse my delinquency in blogging by saying I had the best of intentions, can I? Allow me to only explain that there are times when there is so much to say that it is hard to say anything at all. The previous sentence sums up the last two months of my life. 

While home over the Christmas break, I realized that financial constraints will not allow me to continue to volunteer in Haiti after the end of this month. The tremendous generosity of family and friends, multiplied by my attempts to use each dollar to the absolute maximum possible, has been the most amazing gift, and has extended my service here beyond the original year that I agreed to when I signed on the dotted line. The knowledge of your support beyond that, the prayers and thoughts and good wishes and encouraging comments, quotes and compliments have sustained me more than you can imagine. This entire experience has been a series of miraculous, heart-wrenching, challenging, priceless, providential, and precious moments and lessons. My heart has grown deeper than I knew a heart could, and the extraordinary citizens of this nation have taught me the importance of the present moment, the determination to rise again no matter how many times we may fall or be forced down by the weight of life, and that there is so much joy in the simplicity of living with merely the possessions of faith, hope and love. 

Celebrating at the inauguration of the Angels of Light Preschool and Kindergarten!

Kevin, the goof. Yes, that is a pair of (clean!) underwear on his head.

 The last several weeks have been spent sorting through and dividing up the massive number of projects that were very conveniently stored in my head … and I am realizing that I had a whole lot of ideas in progress in there! Now comes the challenging task of imparting the responsibility for these tasks to my Haitian counterparts and hoping that I have empowered them to believe they are adequate. I have no doubt that they are – but do they know and believe the same? We spent a wonderful day together on a field trip, away from the clinic, touring the home in Kenscoff and talking through the numerous goals, ideas and duties they have as nurses responsible for the health of so many little ones (and not-so-little ones!) It is a bittersweet departure for me – my heart calls me home, but at the same time, it wants to remain here. I hope I have worked myself out of a job, and I have been greatly impressed at the initiative shown by these three strong women in the last several months, as my time in the clinic has been less and less. I have been grateful for the chance to test their willingness to step up and assert themselves, a hard thing to do in this culture, and at the positive results they have demonstrated to me! It is exciting to hear that they have taken on a project that I have mentioned in passing, and that they come up with a system that will work for the needs they see. There is hope in Haiti!! 

There is nothing better than a belly-laugh!

 I am blown away by the courage of all the kids I have been privileged to meet and serve. The bravest of the brave cancer patients charm me with their smiles and absolute courage in the face of grave disease. One of my friends said to me, “Providing end of life care in a developing country is caring for the dying with your arms tied behind your back.” This perfectly described my feelings working in the Mango room. The motivation and the compassion and the understanding are there, on the part of the doctors and several of the nurses. The respect, resources, medications and consistency which they need in order to fulfill their duties, are not always present. But the care of the dying is a powerful and beautiful thing. There were, sadly, numerous goodbyes in recent weeks. Marken, Natalie, Jonathan, Judith. These little ones fought with all they had, little Natalie hanging on for many days after we all thought her body was finished. I was honored to stay with her on the evenings I was there, talking with her mother and answering questions, commending her faith and simply being with her in her loneliness and fear. The veil between the temporary and the eternal is so thin that the sacredness of the moment is palpable. I had a very hard time leaving that last Friday evening, only doing so because night was falling and it is not safe for us women to walk home alone after dark. The following Monday morning, her beautiful grieving mother waited outside the ward until my arrival to tell me that her daughter had gone to “God’s house,” as we were calling it together. She embraced me and thanked me for being honest with her and for staying after the doctors left. Such small gestures, so much impact. We cried together, and I knew at that moment that if that had been the only reason I was brought down here, that would be enough. And yet the reasons I was brought here are endless, and I have been continually amazed at the goodness and the grace and the strength and the faith of the people I have been blessed to befriend this last nineteen months. I am humbled countless times a day by their courage, their fortitude, their grit, their expectant hope, their acceptance, their surrender. 

Stanley, my daily dose of sunshine and a true servant of others. He loves to help!

The beach at Jacmel

Street in Jacmel

I cannot begin to list the people and things I will miss about this country. The list would take up pages beyond pages. But beyond all of the items I could even express, the faces of the children will be the hardest not to see each day. Their eyes and smiles hold unexplainable joy, and their whole beings dance with expectation and determination. I have laughed at their one-liners, cried at their pain, held their hands, experienced their whole-body hugs, just sat with them while they fought over who got to braid my hair this time around, listened to their stories, watched them run toward the future, witnessed their growth in confidence and strength, disciplined them with love, cherished their songs, been amazed at their creativity, and been stunned at their understanding and bravery. They have sustained me on many a difficult day, and even just a moment with any of them has brightened even the darkest moment. They define joy. They laugh in the face of challenge, and they stand in opposition to defeat. They will remain in my heart. Every single one of them.