Sorlanda

   Meet Sorlanda, one of the children at House of Hope. This sweet and spunky little girl has been my friend since my first day in Haiti (I literally went to HOH about 15 minutes after I arrived in Port-de-Paix). My sister Mackenzie and I had taken pictures with her last year when we visited Sonlight, and I was so glad to find her again this year. After  few visits she started to recognize me, and now comes running when I walk through the door with a huge smile on her face. If she's not in the front room, the other kids know she is my buddy and take me straight to her.

Sorlanda

   During my visits, we play "our" games (peek-a-boo, swinging, and braiding hair), we sing her favorite Bible songs, and we laugh. A lot. Sometimes when I come, she is really quiet, and I just hold her. This is usually after bath time. Bath time is a traumatizing experience for her (I'm not quite sure why), so if I come then, it usually takes a while for her to return to life. But she does every time, and we go right back to playing.

She sometimes get ornery and won't
look at the camera!

   Sorlanda has the most beautiful eyes, big and bright, and they light up when she smiles. She has the sweetest little voice, too. I love listening to her sing. She doesn't mind that I only know a little creole, she is perfectly content to chatter away, even if I have no idea what she's saying. I love Sorlanda.

Nephtali, Sorlanda, and Timata

Swinging!

                                                                                 

   I was really excited to see her today, because I didn't go last week, and I had missed my time with her. When I walked through the door, I was greeted by several of the other kids. I sat down and played for a few minutes, expecting to see my little friend walk in any moment. After a few minutes, I asked the other kids about her. Seeing me look around, Nephtali (one of my friends who usually takes me to Sorlanda) came over to me and said "Sorlanda avek Jemson." Sorlanda is with Jemson. This didn't surprise me, as Jemson is Sorlanda's older brother (and a really sweet little guy), but I didn't see him, either. I asked where they were, and Nephtali said "Ale lakay." They had gone to their house. I was confused, but I thought she might not know what she was talking about, so I asked one of the HOH people. To my dismay, Nephtali was right, Sorlanda had gone home. 

   Her mother had come to get her and her brother two days ago. House of Hope has no choice but to send children home if their parents come, even if the kids aren't ready yet. They told me that her mother almost reconsidered  while she was there, because she said she doesn't have money or food to care for them. But whether or not that is true, she took them. My sweet friend is gone, and I didn't even get to say goodbye. 

   I knew that this could happen.  I knew. I was mentally preparing myself to say goodbye-perhaps permanently-when I left for the summer. But not now. Not now. Not when I didn't go last week, when I'm not ready. Not when she may not have food at home. When I have no idea where she lives, or who her family is. 

   I do know that God knows. I know that He sees her, that He loves her even more than I do. I know that He knows how frustrated I am with this situation and all the others like it in Haiti. Because it frustrates Him, too. I know that He sees how much my heart is hurting tonight, and that His hurts, too. I know that if He wants us to be together again, we will be. I know these things, but it doesn't make it easier. I'm still so, so sad. I still miss my girl. I still wonder if she has food tonight. If I'm ever going to see her again. I still can't stop thinking about her.

   But I'm also thankful for a God who cares. A God who lets me run to Him, holds me through my tears and patiently listens to my endless questions tonight. A God who I can trust to do what is best. A God who will never leave or forsake me, who is there through every hurt, every storm, and who will one day wipe away every single tear from our faces.

My sweet friend.

 

END IT

   Tuesday, April 9th, was END IT day. For those of you who don't know what END IT is, or those of you who were wondering why red X's were cluttering your Facebook newsfeed on Tuesday, you're about to find out.
   Back in January, I attended the Passion conference in Atlanta, Georgia. It was an amazing week, with incredible speakers and worship. However, this year Passion also helped launch END IT, a movement to promote awareness of slavery and human trafficking.
   I knew that this was an issue before I went to Passion, but I didn't think about it much. Now I do. That week opened my eyes and broke my heart. 27 million people enslaved. The average cost of of one of those human slaves today? About $76 US currency, less than an iPod. This sickened me. The faces of the eight year old slave boy on a fishing boat, the five year old girl forced into prostitution in Cambodia, the family in India forced to make bricks by hand for twelve hours a day...they've stayed with me. I came home shaken...and angry. Angry at the people who enslave others. Angry at the condition of our world. Angry at myself, for not knowing and not caring about it.
   Thankfully, Passion had provided us with info on some great resources. In addition to promoting END IT, they showcased several other organizations that fight human trafficking. Polaris Project, Not For Sale, A21, Made in a Free World (Slavery Footprint), Love 146 and International Justice Mission. One of the first things they encouraged us to do was go to www.slaveryfootprint.org (which I recommend that you do as well), and take the quiz to see how many slaves worked for us individually. I was a little reluctant-ignorance is bliss, after all-but I did it anyway. To my horror, I discovered that I have at least thirty three slaves working for me. Thirty three. And now that I knew, I had to choose to ignore it, or do something about it. I chose to do something.
   It was harder than I thought it would be. Almost everything is made with slave labor. Ballpoint pens, electronics, clothes, makeup, coffee (why? why coffee?!), chai tea (not this, too!), and even chocolate (seriously? As if the coffee and chai weren't bad enough already!) are all made with slave labor. And those are only the items that immediately affected me.
   Thanks to the internet, all was not lost. My mother (who after hearing me rant for three days after Passion, and taking the SF quiz herself, decided to join the madness) discovered fair trade health and beauty products at the Body Shop. Conveniently, there was a store not terribly far from us. We found fair trade coffee (yes!), chai (yes!!!) and even chocolate (YES!) at Ten Thousand Villages (for those of you back home reading this, both stores are in Champaign/Urbana-go!)
   In addition to all this, I got an END IT action pack, and I planned on painting my town red (figuratively, of course), come April 9th. And then God turned my world upside down and moved me to Haiti.
   In the midst of all that, END IT wasn't exactly the first thing on my mind, so I didn't think much of it. Until I started to realize that living in Haiti made my anti-slavery activism...difficult. The people of Port-de-Paix know nothing of END IT. Neither did most of the missionaries here. Many things that I had hoped to do were no longer a possibility. Standing outside for 27 hours for the 27 million? Something I had hoped to do at home, but not practical for Haiti. I was slightly discouraged, but I opted to look on the bright side, sharing photos, pages, and statuses on Facebook. On February 27th, END IT had a "disappear on social media day". Aha! Something I could do, even from here! Except that our internet decided to be so slow that day, I couldn't log in to Facebook, let alone deactivate my account. Hmph. Another decrease in morale level.
   So here I was, April 9th. END IT day. I wore a red dress to school, and changed to my END IT shirt afterwards and drew the red X on my hand. I would have worn the X during school, but decided not to, since I would have had to explain to my kids that: A- I do not have a tattoo, B- yes, your teacher did, in fact, draw on herself (which I'm constantly telling them NOT to do), and C- tell them why their teacher drew on herself (explaining human trafficking to first graders? I think not). But none of this mattered. In a city of random t-shirts, my white skin draws way more attention than what I wear. That red X on my hand? I uploaded  a photo to Instagram and Facebook, but what is that worth? What good does that do when there are 27 million people desperate for help?
   Frustrated and feeling useless, I prayed. Jesus, I want so badly to make a difference? I know there is slavery in Haiti, but I don't see it. What can I do?
   And then they came to me. Thirty one little faces that I get to see almost every day came to my mind. Thirty one precious kids that are receiving an education-and as a result will never have to face a life of slavery. Fifteen sweet little girls that will never be forced into sex slavery. Sixteen crazy (but also sweet) boys, who will never work as slaves. They can speak English. They can speak French. They can read and write. With God working through me, they will get even better. Slavery will never be something they have to fear.
   Deep gratitude filled me. Thank you Jesus, for using me. For allowing me to be a part of Your plan to break the chains of the slaves. Even though it doesn't look quite like I thought it would, I'm making a difference. One day in a first grade classroom didn't seem like much to me at first, but now I can see a hint of the long term results. And ultimately, it's not up to me to stop human trafficking. It's not up to me, or Passion, IJM, or any other person or organization. It's up to God. Which is really for the best, because He cannot lose. All we have to do is be faithful where He's put us. Which for some of us, might be in a non-profit organization. It might be rescuing girls in Cambodia. It might be sharing a movement via social networking. It might be standing for 27 hours on a college campus. It might be organizing a rescue hotline for those stuck in prostitution.
   For me, it's first grade classroom. So I'll keep praying for those who are in chains. I'll keep sharing photos. And I'll keep doing my best to be faithful where I am, one phonics lesson at a time.

A Trip to Saint Louis du Nord

   We are on spring break here at Sonlight, so today Megan, Tara and I went to Saint Louis du Nord with Megan's Bible study girls. We took a tap tap to the market, and then walked through the mountains to a waterfall. We had to cross the river a few times, which made it feel like an adventure! It was a long walk, but it was so much fun and completely worth it! It was absolutely gorgeous, the more I see of Haiti, the more I fall in love with this country!   When we (finally) got to the waterfall,  we waded into the pool at the bottom and spent an hour swimming, climbing on the rocks, and just having fun! Some local kids got curious and came to watch us, so before we left we taught them a few songs, like "This is the Day" in creole. They loved it!
   We walked back to the market and took a tap tap to an "American" store we'd heard about. They had all sorts of things you can't usually find here, like candy, popcorn, juice, and cookies. Outside the store was a snack bar where they had drinks, pizza, and ice cream! Ice cream is a treat in Haiti, and it's nearly impossible to find, so we were really excited to get some. The owner of the store came to talk to us, and took us inside the restaurant he's opening soon. It's all indoors, air-conditioned, and will serve American food like hotdogs, cheeseburgers, fries, pizza, and ice cream. It looks like it's going to be really nice, and we're hoping to go back when it opens! We headed back to Port-de-Paix and are having the girls sleep over tonight. It has been an awesome day! Below are some pictures of our trip.

A Different Kind of Easter

   Every year at Easter, my family does the exact same thing. Same people, same places, same traditions. Which I absolutely love. However, this year I'm in Haiti, so my Easter has looked a lot different than in times past.
   On Friday, we went to the Good Friday service at church. We sang, we took communion, and one of the Bible college teachers preached. It was a simple service, but meaningful, and I really enjoyed it.
   Saturday afternoon, Megan's Bible study ladies came over to watch the Passion of the Christ. We had homemade pizza, cookies, and cokes and sprites. After we ate and chatted for a bit, we started the movie. None of the ladies had seen it before, and I'd only seen it once. I'd forgotten how hard it is to watch.
   It's so easy to say "Jesus died on a cross." without giving much thought to what that entails. Death on a cross was the most painful, humiliating, and cruel death a human being could face. Few deserved such a fate, least of all Jesus Christ. He was completely innocent and without sin. Yet He chose to take all of the sins of the world upon Himself and die a horrible death in our place, so that we could live eternally with Him. He did this even while we were still sinners! But it's easy to say even that. To watch it, or at least watch what that might have looked like, puts it all in perspective.
   Even though I still speak very little creole, I could understand that the women were talking about what was happening through most of the film. During the worst moments, it would get nearly silent, but I could still hear them say "Mesi, Jezi!' "Thank you, Jesus!" And then I heard one woman whisper "Pour mwen?" "For me?" She said it quietly, almost in disbelief, and choking back tears.
   For me? Why on earth would Jesus go through that for me? It's a question I don't ask myself often enough. The easy Sunday school answer is "Because He loves me." But why? Why would He do that? Why does He love us? And perhaps most importantly, why don't we realize how amazing that is?
   These women, who don't even speak English, had convicted me beyond measure. Why am I not in awe of the cross? Why am I not continually, in every moment, overwhelmed with gratitude? Why do I reduce the death and resurrection of my Savior to a story in my Bible? Wanting to get more perspective, I spent some time that night praying and reading Isaiah 53 and Romans 5. They were familiar passages, but I read them with a new appreciation. Yet again, I became amazed at the greatness of our God. At how marvelous and how wonderful my Savior's love is.
   Why had this not bothered me before? Why had I let so many previous Easters slip by without really stopping to think about what Christ did? Maybe it's because holidays are crazy. In the hustle and bustle of getting from one family gathering to another, in the Walmart aisles full of candy and stuffed rabbits, it's easy to lose track of what Easter is actually about. That's not to say that family dinners and chocolate are bad, I love my family's traditions, and my parents even sent me some candy (I got a Reese's egg. My parents rock!). However, I think that being away from all of that this year helped me to turn my focus back where it belongs: on a bloody cross, an empty tomb, and an amazing love.