I still feel like an observer here. I’m doing my best to coordinate email requests from my volunteer American coworkers and actionable steps for my Haitian coworkers among the daily emergencies and disruptions here.

Yesterday I didn’t accomplish much. I tried to locate an extra commode for a woman who has trouble getting down the stairs of her home, and we thought there might be one in the containers. The “containers” are shipping containers that double as locked storage units for all our school, clinic, and orphanage inventory: everything from medical supplies to musical instruments. I saw one of the larger cockroaches I’ve seen here, but no commode.

I met the sweet grandbaby of one of our elders. Grandma brought him up here to see what we might be able to do to support her as she is taking him into her home. He is a great-grand nephew who was abandoned by his parents. Abandoned babies is a reality of daily life here.

We made some progress toward completing a housing project that has been in the works for several months. It isn’t me making the progress; rather, I get to be witness to and participant in exciting things happening here.

There is a sign on the administrator’s door here in both Creole and English: “Knock and Enter.” This has felt strange for me as a timid Minnesotan, but you knock and enter. There is no waiting for a “Come in!” or a “Wi?” Just knock and enter. If there is a meeting or phone call in progress, you may be told to wait, but you don’t know until after you enter. If no one is there, the door is locked.

It seems that this is how my projects also must proceed; walk into the middle of things and see what can be done once you are there. Knock, enter.

Today I get to go on some elder visits with an American team who is down here for the week. We show up to our elders’ homes, largely unannounced. We don’t really even knock. We just enter. And then we get to fellowship and serve.

“Ask and it will be given to you; seek and you will find; knock and the door will be opened to you.” -Matthew 7:7

This morning I had coffee on my neighbor’s porch (which I invited myself to) because my own apartment was beginning to feel like a prison. I’m adjusting to the confines of living in an unfamiliar community with strict but somehow loosely defined guidelines of where I can be and when. I miss my independence, as I’ve only left the compound a few times over the past couple weeks, and even within the compound, I’m daily feeling the struggle of partial- and mis-communications. For someone used to doing what I want when I want, this is an entirely foreign lifestyle.

This newfound captivity was especially felt earlier this week when I experienced my first riot lockdown. There were scheduled protests nearby, and while we thankfully didn’t experience any protests here, precautions were evident everywhere. The school and clinic were shutdown, roads were closed, we were grounded-unable to leave, and armed guards were stationed within our gates.

The pace is different here. Progress is difficult to measure; the polar opposite of my former job, where progress is calculated daily, reports are printed and tasks checked and re-checked off of lists. Here, progress is having the right conversation with the right person who may or may not carry that information onto the person who needs it. Here, progress is thinking through innovative solutions or understanding one more Creole phrase. Here, progress isn’t the most important measure of time.

This morning, frustrated and a little bored, I sat on my neighbor’s porch reading a book and drinking coffee, trusting with all my heart that I am where I am meant to be, even though the feelings don’t always match the conviction. And then things went from 0-60 in the blink of an eye because the pace is different here!

I learned that one of our elders was in the clinic and not doing well. I was rushed to his bedside by Vania, my Haitian coworker, and I held his hand for a few moments, unable to think of anything helpful to say in Creole. He was writhing in pain from an infected catheter. Just as quickly, I was whisked out of the room and informed that Vania would be accompanying him to a doctor in Port-Au-Prince where he would likely need surgery.

While making phonecalls and sending emails, trying to figure out how and if we could access funds for emergency medical procedures, two teams of Americans pulled up the hill into Grace Village, lunch was served and my day was pretty much gone in a blur after that.

I got to jump onto one of the team’s taptaps and go out and visit a few elders with them, my favorite part of being here so far! And I wrapped up the afternoon with delicious fried plantains and pork at Fleri with several of my co-missionaries.

Tomorrow could be a constant running kind of day. Or it might feel like a waste of time. It might be both or neither. Again, progress isn’t the most important measure of time here.

“Listen, my dear brothers and sisters: Has not God chosen those who are poor in the eyes of the world to be rich in faith and to inherit the kingdom he promised those who love him?” James 2:5

Haiti is not a kind place. The heat is unforgiving, traffic is nuts, the dust and humidity makes my hair comically unmanageable, the terrain is rough, and the people are brutally honest. They tend to be direct and loud; no passive-aggressiveness here! It’s my experience that most Haitians were not taught that it is impolite to stare, and their rules of politeness are entirely different than I am used to anyway. The children can be especially cruel, to each other and to outsiders.

I knew this moving here. I am regularly called fat and ugly and probably much worse, but language barriers work in my favor sometimes. Earlier today a pre-teen girl with limited English sitting next to me suddenly said, “Stand up! So I can look at you!”

I am a big white freak show to many, but as I get to know more people, I am becoming “Kah-tee” more and more often and not just “Blanc”-the Haitian (not very nice) default word for a white person. This morning at church, I was able to greet at least a few people by names, and their response was hugs, kisses, smiles and pleasantries that I understood a few words of!

But two moments of kindness have especially impacted me in the last two days. Yesterday, I was able to go on a few elder visits with a Healing Haiti team from Illinois. One of the elders has a teenage granddaughter I’ve been slowly attempting to find out more about. She doesn’t speak or engage with anyone from what I’ve seen, but she will eat and drink if her grandmother gives her something directly. It is unclear whether this is due to disability, trauma or a combination of the two. Everywhere in and around their home smells like urine.

I was immediately drawn to her, and whenever she looks up at me, even for a brief moment, it is like a knife through my heart. So, yesterday I was there with a team and I watched her have this same impact on a woman on that team. While everyone else sang and focused on the grandmother, this woman sat with her arm around the granddaughter, tears rolling down her face. She was the last to get up and leave, and all I could say as we walked away together was “she breaks my heart too.” I have to believe her kindness and presence made a difference. It made a difference to me.

And today, one of the teenage boys who lives here at Grace Village walked me home from church! My apartment (and the family-style homes which are home to Haitian children who were unable to be reunited with their biological families) are located inside of Grace Village. Grace Church is down on the street level, while Grace Village is at the top of a steep and rocky climb inside a secure wall with a guarded gate.

Due to an electrical fire which tripped the generator somehow this morning, my apartment-mates had left suddenly during the church service to figure out wiring issues and get the power back up. Which left me to be the only American at church. I really was fine walking back by myself. The climb tests my muscles and my lung capacity, but it wasn’t my first hike. Still, my new friend was determined to see me up the mountain safely.

He came up beside me as soon as church was out to find out where Kenny (one of my apartment-mates) was. When I didn’t know, he followed me out the church gate. I realized upon turning around to check on something else, that he had gone half a block, then stopped and turned back for me. He walked silently beside me the rest of the climb. Presence does matter. Kindness does matter. I am grateful today to be witness to kindness.

“But the fruit of the Spirit is love, joy, peace, patience, kindness, goodness, faithfulness, gentleness, self-control; against such things there is no law.”

Galatians 5:22-23

I unpacked my suitcases! This is the first time in two months I’ve really had a home, and it is a beautiful one. I’m living now at Grace Village in Titanyen, Haiti, where I will be primarily living for the next year. I even got a Haitian sim card for my phone so I feel just a tiny bit less like a foreigner.

Yesterday was the real beginning of my immersion study in Haitian Creole and culture. I rode out on the Kubota with Vania and Jonas to visit elders. Being out in the community without any other Americans was an incredible experience, one that I will get to have many times throughout my time here. Vania is a patient Creole tutor and also excited to work on her English skills with me. She is also looking to pursue a career in nursing, and she is practicing by taking regular blood pressure checks on our elders in the eldercare program. I am focusing on memorizing names and faces, there are a lot of them! But the elders I can greet by name respond with huge smiles, hugs and kisses.

I am getting to know my fellow missionaries who also live here. Caleb, Mackenzie, Olivia and Ellorie (and their puppy Annie) are the wonderful family who live in the house next door. My roommate is Samantha, and we share an apartment with Jake, Kenny and Dustin. We are not cramped for space, though! We have a private bathroom, large bedroom, amazing common areas and a deck with a jaw-dropping view. It has been fun to get to know new friends and reconnect with those I’ve known a while.

For those who have asked or wondered, I did experience my first earthquake on Saturday. I was still in Port-Au-Prince at the time. We felt the floor shifting under us as we ate dinner and went outside as a precaution. Everyone and everything here is fine, though!

You can pray for those in northern Haiti who were more closely affected by the earthquake. Also, pray for peace for the Haitian people. Many spent Saturday night outside, afraid to go back in their homes. There is a lot of trauma here for those who lived through the earthquake in 2010.

“For we are God’s handiwork, created in Christ Jesus to do good works, which God prepared in advance for us to do.” Ephesians 2:10

I’ve been here less than five days, but these few days have been jam-packed with experiences, meetings, friends, language barriers, laughter, frustrations, and lots of dreaming and planning for the year ahead!

I traveled to Haiti (and am spending the week) with a couple of women who champion and advocate for the Eldercare program in Titanyen, doing all kinds of behind the scenes work and coordination in service to our elders.

Our first full day was spent focusing on the new Eldercare program in Cite Soleil with the two pastors of Hope Church, Kathy Witte, who works closely with the Hope Church pastors, and a handful of other Healing Haiti missionaries and Haitian staff members.

We spent time meeting with the pastors, hearing their heart to care for the elderly and vulnerable members of that community, and learning what the church members were already doing to meet their needs. We then had the honor to go on home visits with the pastors to each of those elder’s homes, where they were given a basic health assessment by a nurse and prayed over. High blood pressure is a huge concern here, affecting many of the elderly people, and often left untreated due to lack of education or access to healthcare. We are putting together a plan to get those with dangerously high blood pressures seen by a doctor as soon as possible.

The past three days have been a whirlwind of introductions, as I am attempting to meet and connect with each elder (about 30 of them) in the Eldercare program in Titanyen. Vanya, the woman who runs all the daily aspects of the Eldercare program, has been gracious to embrace me and happy to have me come alongside and serve her. She has been teasing me, making me carry the step stool she sits on between our elder visit stops. I will have to work hard to move up from stool-carrier to whatever position is above that…? It has been eye-opening to say the least to meet each person and tour many of their homes.

One woman shares a tiny concrete room with 11 children/grandchildren – one corner is filled with the charcoal she sells at the market, and a small bed fills about a third of the room. At night, the children sleep either on the bed or on the two small patches of concrete floor. The low, wooden rafters are hung with clothes and school uniforms, as she is the sole provider for her family.

The poverty is incomprehensible, the need immense, but there is faith and hope and love. There is much more to come. Much more to say. Many pictures and so much hope and heartbreak here. But for today, know I am blessed to be here.

“We proclaim him, admonishing and teaching everyone with all wisdom, so that we may present everyone perfect in Christ. To this end I favor, struggling with all his energy, which so powerfully works in me” Colossians 1:28-29