For the most part, I’m very excited to be going, but part of me is afraid. So why am I scared to go to Haiti? Its not really the ‘normal’ stuff. I’ve had several friends who’ve gone and come back unharmed, mainly by always staying in groups, staying with your guide/interpreter, and not going out at night. Don’t drink the water. Wear sunscreen and plenty of bug spray. Play nice.
I am certainly going to be out of my comfort zone. Heck, I’ll be working at a Habitat for Humanity building site in Nashville and be uncomfortable, just because I don’t know what to do, and now I’m doing the same thing, just in Haiti. (I had to Google ‘sawzall’ and ‘rebar’ since I didn’t know what they were.) I’m also going to try to be a translator in training for a dialect (Creole) of a language (French) in which I’m only moderately fluent. However, I more dread than fear the construction aspect, and I’m actually pretty excited about the translator possibilities, although I know I’m going to mess up a good bit.
What scares me are the kids. Years ago, and what really got me started in having a ‘missionary’ outlook, so to speak, was a baby crying. I was holding our little baby daughter Brooklyn, who was only a few months old at the time, and she wouldn’t stop crying. I was going through my mental checklist- Fed? Check. Diaper changed? Check. Burped? Check. Despite doing everything right, she wouldn’t stop crying. And then finally, she did. But it hit me that somewhere out there, a mom or a dad was holding their little baby girl, and she wouldn’t stop crying. They love their child just as much as I love mine, but they can’t feed her, they can’t clothe her, they can’t wrap her in a warm blanket. They can’t take her to the doctor to help her get better. They just have to hold their sick, tired, hungry little girl and hope she feels better, hope she stops crying, but hopefully not for the last time. And there are some kids that don’t even have parents to hold them. I’m also reminded of our trip to the ER this past February.
And that’s what scares me, the realization that I’m so small and helpless and I can’t fix it like I want to. I know mentally that God is huge, and that He’s made for doing miracles and changing lives, but I have to get my heart there as well.