I just returned from my fourth trip to Haiti. After trips, I’m always met with the same question, “How was Haiti?” This question is always incredibly hard for me to answer because it’s difficult to describe the way I feel. Haiti, to me, is like going home for Christmas. It’s the place where my heart is full and broken at the very same time. It’s the place where my passion resides and smile never fades. Haiti is home to me.
I want to reenact the moments of pure bliss, describe the faces of the kids I get to see, the way Pastor pours into my marriage or the way the whole community sacrificially loves. But instead, I get hung up with the question every time and look to the ground and say, “It was great!” I hope this response doesn’t make the experience seem flat, unimportant, and mediocre. Friends, Haiti is not any of those things. Haiti is where my friends live and where my heart stays.
Haiti reminds me of the magnet on my fridge that says:
“The best and most beautiful things in the world cannot be seen or even touched – they must be felt with the heart.”- Helen Keller
Haiti cannot be described by words, it’s an experience that must be felt with the heart. It’s a calling. I will do my best to highlight moments; but in truth I will always fail to find words because matters of the heart are hard to describe.