7 am, morning traffic. Buses don’t fare well in traffic
like that, so back alleys it is. I’ve never gone the secret way to the airport
before. After three trips to Haiti, there is still so much I’ve never seen. The
half hour ride isn’t long enough to say goodbye to all the things I love about
this country. And remind me, one more time, why we took the back alley roads?
All the sudden, sitting in traffic for two hours doesn’t sound like such a bad
proposal anymore. But there it is, coming into view. This is my least favorite
part of coming to Haiti...you know, the part where I have to leave again.
I look back at the faces of fifteen smiling teammates.
They’re amazing, all of them. Some are excited to get home, some are REALLY
excited to get home, and some are not yet ready to leave. And so the question comes,
as I know it will, from the girl sitting beside me. My friend, one of my best
friends, who is getting to live my dream by living in Haiti. But I have to
leave, and so she asks:
“Are you ready?”
And I don’t even have to think twice before I answer. Ready strikes
me as an ironic word to throw around when you’re leaving a place that has
become just as much home to you as your own bedroom. Ready implies that you
want, need, and are excited about leaving...and I am not any of those things. Ready
is when you’re okay leaving 63 happy, smiling kids that have become a part of
your heart. And when you’re not only leaving your Haitian family, but one of
your own as well? Who is ever ready for that?
Haiti has changed me. That’s putting it lightly, really.
Haiti has ripped apart everything that I thought I knew and wanted in life and reconstructed
it differently. I get a lot of crazy looks when I say I want to live there
someday. “Why? With all the danger, and
filth, and poverty, and disease, why would you ever want to live in Haiti?!”
That’s what they say. And all I’m sitting there thinking is “Why, with all the joy and beauty of the
people, would I NOT want to live in Haiti?”
It’s not for everyone I guess. I get that. God works in my
heart consistently to keep me committed to this calling. I have mental and
emotional breakdowns like everyone else, convinced that I could never make it
in a third world country. But somehow, I always come out the other side steadier
than when I went in, thanks to Jesus. So I’m all in, for this crazy idea of
mine that wasn’t actually my idea. I want to go for this. I need to go for
this. Ready? This is what I’m ready for.
All that flies through my head in the space of a second, because
I don’t even hesitate with my answer.
“Are you ready?”
“Never.”
