When someone hears we are moving to Haiti, one thing we are
often asked is why we are going. I think
I usually keep my answer very vague and say something like “we are going to be
house parents for orphaned and abandoned children with an organization called
Children of the Promise.” Yes, this is
what we will be doing, and it is why we are moving to Haiti, but I think the
real answer to the question is much deeper than this for me.
As a kid, I can remember feeling sad about children who
didn’t have parents or a place to live.
I can remember feeling sad about the other kids my age who rode my bus
and couldn’t afford warm socks or properly fitting jackets and pants when it
was cold outside. I can also remember
feeling sad when I saw commercials on TV that showed the faces of hungry
orphans in third world (majority world) nations. I think a lot of us, as kids or adults, feel
saddened by these things when we are exposed to them. Usually we get over our sadness when we do
something as simple as change the channel on TV.
It is easier to go on about life when we are not feeling sad.
I was able to redirect my thoughts of sadness pretty well
until one particular trip to Haiti in 2010.
It was my second trip to Haiti and my first trip with Roni. A few days into the trip, our short term
missions team helped to fund and prepare a hot meal for a prison out in the
country. If you know anything about
Haitian prisons, you know that this was extremely emotional and eye opening to
experience firsthand. But I was able to
compartmentalize and handled it pretty well.
Then I walked through the prison courtyard and across the
street to the place where the other half of our team was. The place is called an “azil,” meaning
“haven.” I can tell you it is not what I
picture at all when I hear the word “haven.”
The way I would describe it is a filthy cement structure where the
elderly go when no one is able to care for them. It is kind of like a nursing home, but it lacks basic essentials such as food, clean water, and mattresses most of the
time. Our team was there to visit with
the people who were currently living there and provide them with a hot
meal. We had a short devotional and sang
some worship songs with them in their language.
Some members of the team even helped to bathe the residents who could not bathe themselves. The Haitian teenagers who volunteered 
I did okay emotionally until I saw the kids. They were dirty, skinny, and smelled like
they had not bathed in weeks. Some of them didn't have clothes of their own and were wearing oversized men's buttoned shirts. I kept
wondering what their stories were and what would cause them to live in such a
horrid place with no one to keep them safe.
I was able to play with them and give them some toys, but things changed
when it was meal time. The folks living
at the azil told us they hadn’t eaten in days and were extremely hungry. This was made clear when Tabitha, the Haitian
woman who headed up the cooking, had to raise her voice to keep people away
from the table until all the food was dished out. We again saw how hungry the people were when
we watched an elderly man smack one of the children with his cane for trying to
get food before him. This was also made
clear when a little boy filled his shirt with uncooked rice that had spilled on
the floor for a later time and when one kid was so thirsty she drank out of a
bowl that a dog from the street had been lapping juice out of. I was very observant and finally stepped
outside to have a few minutes to cry.
For those of you who know me, you know I am not a big crier, at least
not in front of others in public places.
I never saw kids who were in such a desperate position
before. Sure, I saw them on TV, but I
could erase any feeling of sadness by simply changing the channel or choosing
to think of something else. In Haiti, I
had no choice but to sit there with my feelings and experience the reality of
their situation. This has gnawed at me
since that trip, and I can’t go on choosing to do nothing to help the children
who go to bed hungry or have no one to comfort them when they are scared. God has opened my eyes and gave me the choice to ignore my
feelings and go on about my own life or to act on them. I am blessed with the health and flexibility
to move to Haiti, so I am choosing to answer this call and play a very small
part in helping to care for orphans.
I do not think everyone should sell what they own and move to another country, but I am asking all of you to simply keep your eyes opened to the brokenness of our world instead of choosing to change the channel or push those feelings aside so that life is easier and happier without extra burdens. We are supposed to carry each other's burdens. Everyone can do something to help someone, whether it be in your own neighborhood or in Haiti. God will reveal these people to you as long as you are willing to see and feel their brokenness.
-- Steph
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I have visited this particular azil several times, but this visit was particularly special because it was with my mom and sister, Alex, in 2013.
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