You can usually hear a funeral procession in Haiti before you see it. A small marching band leads the way, followed by the hearse and all the friends and family walking alongside, in front of and behind that.

Yesterday, I heard one of these processionals making their way up the main road in Titanyen toward a cemetery. The trumpets were playing the melody line of “Mansion Over the Hilltop” and I caught myself singing along.

I’ve seen poverty up-close in ways I never expected over the past several months. Those experiences have led me to think about the relationship between poverty and hope. It seems that unimaginable poverty either results in unimaginable despair or unimaginable hope. Or maybe a bit of both.

This seems strange to write, but I do think poverty lends itself to hope. It’s an advantage, in a way. When you come from a culture (USA) that prides itself on anyone being able to succeed, you learn that you can literally have anything you want. If you work hard enough and take the necessary risks, however immoral or unethical, required to get there, anything you want badly enough, you can have. Really, anything you don’t have is your own fault, in a generalized way of speaking.

That may be true for the elite here but not for most Haitians. The less you have here, the less you have. Less money, less opportunity, less education, less access to medical care, less chances of your lifestyle changing.

And in that, there is a resignation to one’s circumstances. There is resignation of your own ability to do anything about it. And there is resignation to hope, hope for changes in government, hope for hand-outs, and eternal hope that there is more to be lived for than this current life. In resignation of self-ability, God becomes the only real hope.

This past week, I visited the local women’s prison with some of the leaders of Grace Church. I didn’t know what to expect, but I think I expected it to feel maybe scarier. Instead, the inmates and guards joked with each other. The 200+ women who live there graciously received the care packages the church had made for them, and many of them scrambled to write notes for the pastor to take-requests for money, medical needs, and prayer requests.

There was a section of the facility that was exactly what movies prepared me for, cages where 1-3 women per cell stayed locked in with their beds, their personal belongings, buckets, and toilets. That was probably less than a quarter of the prison population. The rest were split between three enormous holding cells, giant rooms lined with bunk beds, personal belongings, clothes hanging to dry, buckets of water, and I even saw a television mounted on one of the walls. It was a busy, noisy place, but really it was just groups of women, going about their daily lives, locked in and separated from their families.

When we arrived in front of a holding cell, our pastor prayed a blessing over the group. The women would file out and line up to receive their care package, and after they had their bag of hygiene supplies in hand, they filed back into that cell.

I was introduced to one woman because she was a family member of one of the church leaders who was also there visiting. She had been accused of an unspecified crime, and has lived in that prison for three months, waiting to see the judge. This is an unfortunately common story here. A simple arrest can mean serious time, with or without a conviction.

From Grace Village, we have a clear view of the prison, just down the mountain from us. At night, now, when I can look down and see the electricity is out there, I can’t not think of the women locked into these big, dark holding cells. No fans running, no privacy, not knowing when they might get out, a stone’s throw from my world but a galaxy away.

I know a lot of Haitian people now. Many of them haven’t been given what I’d consider their fair share in life. Especially among the elders that I get to serve, many live in real poverty. Many live without their complete family. Most struggle to meet basic needs for food and shelter.

Loss of parents, loss of dignity, loss of income, loss of children, loss of life, loss of comfort, loss of freedom, loss of innocence… the list of things lost is long. But, one thing many have not lost is hope. And that is worth more than anything.

I’m not saying that the women sitting in the Titanyen prison tonight are just smiling and humming and thinking about how hopeful life is. I’m trying to say that hope is as available to them as it is to me, and probably more so than it is to those who’ve never had to rely on it.

Romans 5:1-5 “Therefore, since we have been justified through faith, we have peace with God through our Lord Jesus Christ, through whom we have gained access by faith into this grace in which we now stand. And we boast in the hope of the glory of God. Not only so, but we also glory in our sufferings, because we know that suffering produces perseverance; perseverance, character; and character, hope. And hope does not put us to shame, because God’s love has been poured out into our hearts through the Holy Spirit, who has been given to us.”

Friend’s new baby!

Some cute guys at church who wanted to play with my phone…

I mean, who wouldn’t want photos with me?

Unloading donations at the prison.

The farm dogs know who brings them the good stuff! (It’s Kenny.)

Meeting my newest favorite human. See you in three weeks, Marianna Rose!!!

Team serving elders in Cite Soleil. ❤️

August 23rd is an important date in my family’s history. My parents got married on this day in 1975, so even though I wouldn’t be part of the family for another decade, their choices and commitments on this day shaped my life in every way.

On this day, one year ago, I was already living out of suitcases, planning my move to Haiti. I was finishing my final weeks of office work, and couch-hopping, apartment-sitting, friend-mooching my way through the days of transition after selling my house and putting in my notice at work. I’d taken a couple days off of work to visit my sister and her family in their new home in Roseau, MN. As they were still moving in, we were all sleeping on the floor that week.

In the midst of the excitement and chaos, my dad had continued to get sicker. I was getting text messages from my mom on this day last year about how my dad’s skin was yellow and she was making him go back to the doctor and demand some tests. Then she started evading my questions and finally responded that she wanted to talk to my sister and I together.

So, on this day, one year ago, over a speaker phone call with my sister and brother in law, we found out my dad was diagnosed with chronic lymphocytic leukemia, a blood and bone marrow cancer that had gone undetected in his system for possibly three years already.

I’ve never been an appropriate emotions in the moment kind of girl, so I was a bit stunned, but my mind went immediately to how this would affect my plans. Could I still even go? Would I? All my ties had already been cut. I was effectively unemployed and homeless, plane ticket in hand.

But on some other random day, probably three years back, I sat at Grace Church, uncomfortable and a little bored, sweat pouring out of every inch of my skin, surrounded by worship in an unfamiliar language, and I told God that if He called me here, I’d come.

On another random day, maybe two years ago, at the home for sick and dying babies, I watched a friend patiently feeding a child with Down Syndrome, and God spoke clearly to me that He didn’t actually need me to take care of my family. He’d continue to take care of my brother if I wasn’t around for him.

On one random afternoon, maybe 29-30 years ago, I heard God’s still small voice for the first time that I can remember, as I sang out worship songs on our backyard swing set.

There have been many random days and moments throughout my childhood and adult life when I made good choices and when I didn’t. But none of those moments could have happened without two people committing their lives and future family to God on this day, 44 years ago.

On this day, one year ago, some bad news left me rattled. But, ultimately, I decided, with the support of many friends and family members and peace straight from God, to move forward with my plans and go to Haiti.

On this actual day, my dad is doing so good! He takes very powerful and expensive medication, but he has energy again and we aren’t collectively feeling the weight of a death sentence diagnosis anymore.

On this actual day, one of my sisters is expecting my newest niece to be born any moment. 😀

On this day, I am grateful.

“Therefore what God has joined together, let no one separate.” Mark 10:9

Oh, and because I should include a few pictures from my current life… there are some really random shots attached.

I hope that my blog can give a little insight into what it is like to live and work in missions. But, I only have my limited experience and I don’t even understand that. I can’t explain it to anyone because I can’t explain it to myself.

Everyday is a pro/con list of reasons I am sad and glad to be here. The pro side of the list includes things like getting to work in flip flops, experiencing another culture, occasional beach days, and tropical weather. The con side includes things like missing my family, forfeiting my independence, no Taco Bell, and tropical weather.

The pro list always trumps the con list though with one simple line item: Peace that I am being obedient to God’s direction. There is no point in finishing the list after that.

And I am finding so many unexpected pro’s along the way! Most of them are people.

I didn’t know moving here would connect me to a network of other young independent men and women from the US and Canada, all living in Haiti temporarily or permanently because they too felt the Holy Spirit guide them here. Though we come from diverse backgrounds, we are united in our pursuit of Jesus and in that shared experience of obedience to a call. They are my Bible Study friends, pizza-splitting companions, a link to familiarity, and wonderful humans in a general sense.

I have gotten closer to my Healing Haiti colleagues, both Americans and Haitians. To say our work arrangement is complicated is an understatement, for sure! We are a huge conglomerate of paid employees and volunteers from across the US and Haiti, all working remotely and sometimes together to keep the ministry healthy and moving forward. I am grateful for each of them.

I have been blessed to develop deeper friendships with some of  the members of EKS, our church volunteer group. They teach me about the culture here and share their dreams for Haiti and Titanyen.

I am honored by the elders I get to serve. When they ask me if I have children, I joke and say, I have a cat and many “ti granmoun”. That is basically saying little old men or little old ladies, but it is meant to be endearing, not condescending. It seems appropriate as several of them call me mama now.

Unfortunately for my cold heart, many of the children in Cite Soleil have weaseled their way into my affections. I cannot get enough of them, and I love seeing how their community is changing because of the work of the church there.

Many of the children who live at Grace Village have become very dear to me as well. I’m not supposed to pick favorites, but there are a select few that I feel as close to as if they were my own nieces/nephews. We still have communication barriers, but I would do anything I could for them.

I came here as a step of obedience, and I am continuing to take steps. I still have peace to be here, and I have peace that God will continue to provide.

I am back to fundraising as I have decided to stay on another year in Haiti. Many of you know that next year I’m hoping to spend about a third of the year in the states and two-thirds in Haiti, but I will continue to work with the elders and EKS.

I do need money to be able to do it, and I am here as a donor-sponsored volunteer. As of this coming October, I am sitting about $1,000 short of meeting my monthly budget. If you feel your steps being guided toward keeping mine moving, here is my donation link: http://donate.healinghaiti.org/sponsorships/support-katie-missionary

“The Lord makes firm the steps of the one who delights in him; though he may stumble, he will not fall, for the Lord upholds him with his hand.”

Psalms 37:23-24

Forgive me for not posting in a few weeks. My days have been short and packed lately!

Over the past couple weeks, I’ve had the privilege of joining several different teams in several different serving opportunities. “Miscellaneous” tends to sum up a large portion of my daily responsibilities anyway, but the past few weeks have been even more so that way. I’ve spent as many nights in Port Au Prince at our guesthouse with teams as I have in my own room in Titanyen.

Some of the highlights have been going to church and the beach with good friends, water truck and elder visits with Team Texas and Hosanna Lutheran youth group, VBS at a Christian school in Petionville with Woodridge youth group, visiting an orphanage I’d never been to before with a team who spoiled me and brought me Twix bars, another round of VBS and orphanage visits with a mother/daughter team, taptap foosball, dance parties, and a hundred other moments I can’t fit into this run-on sentence. In between those things, I’ve still been visiting elders and attempting to stay on top of all the open projects I’m involved in. The past couple weeks have been a lot, but they have been so, so good!

It has been good to see Haiti with fresh eyes again. Watching others experience life here for the first time humbles me. Watching children and teenagers willingly wash strangers’ feet, hearing teams debrief the things they have seen, reuniting with leaders who come back over and over again, and fielding messages from people who want to serve more and donate more reminds me of when Haiti first grabbed my heart.

Now when I serve with a team, I don’t feel like I’m visiting strangers. I finally know a little of the language, enough to connect. Team members throw a million questions at me, and while I seldom know the answers, sometimes I do and I’m happy to have them ask me. Children on the street in Cite Soleil know my name, and while it isn’t about me, I love nothing more than when I know one of their names too. I certainly know their faces.

Each team also reminds me of all the people with whom I have traveled on short term missions trips. And all the people who have spoken into my life in many diverse and beautiful ways throughout my life. I am who I am today because of Jesus and all the people who invested their time and faith in my life.

“Remember your leaders, who spoke the word of God to you. Consider the outcome of their way of life and imitate their faith.” Hebrews 13:7