Haiti, Part I

I'm so excited to share my experiences from Haiti with you, not only because it's a blessing to be able to allow the stories to travel from person to person as God desires...but also because it's a powerful gift to myself to be able to re-live the moments as I ponder and type them. Come along for the journey?

We arrive at the airport in Port au Prince, Haiti, after the usual exhaustion of travel. My makeup has worn off (good prep for the week!), my skin is melting in the heat and humidity, and I can't understand a word people are saying.

It's exciting and it's chaotic.

It's chaotic.

What is this place? This can't be the airport of the capital city of a country. The capital would be much more organized and well-ordered, right? Not like this crazy madhouse.

Some clever Haitian just convinced all of us women to give our baggage claim tags to him...he seemed friendly enough but now we realize he doesn't work for the airport. Oh, dear.

I can't get to my bag on the conveyor belt from all the pushing and shoving and loud noise. Finally someone from our group finds it, with the front pocket unzipped. There went all my money for the trip, forgotten in the haste of last-minute baggage checking and happily carried away by someone somewhere between MIA and PAP.

I'm now poor. Hot. Irritable. Crowded on all sides.

Welcome to Haiti.

Day one and I'm already being taken to the end of myself.

I know this is not a vacation, but it's got to get better than this.

Open hands, Lord. Open hands. (I pray this through gritted teeth)

Here we go.