Men anpil, Chay pa lou

I'm successfully at that point in the trip where I no longer care about certain things. For example, I am choosing not to shower tonight, no clean clothes so why bother? I am no longer bothered by the dirt in my toes, I got trench foot two days ago so might as well air them out. I've decided that I no longer will pretend to ignore the beans... I just don't like them, so I won't eat them, that's quite simple. My hair went unbrushed, though I did brush my teeth, and I promptly announced to my two new roommates that I was not a morning person, so don't bother to wake me. This is a good place to be.

It's kind of like that place in a relationship when you don't have to wear make-up anymore ( I haven't worn that since I got here) and can say what you really feel. It's a good place to be. The question is, how does that change the trip, what makes it different now from last week and how much more different would it be if I stayed another month? Don't worry Paul, I'm coming home Saturday.

I think it means I'm home. It doesn't mean that I'm ok with what the corrupt government has done to the people of Haiti. It doesn't mean that I've forgotten the hungry or turned my head from the sick. What it does mean is I can let down that facade that we put up, the other self for committee meetings, neighborhood get togethers or family reunions. Home.

We shared in worship service and Communion this evening with Pere Bruno. He spoke of that very real place in our lives when Jesus offers to carry our burdens, yet when we lay them at his feet we won't let go ourselves. You of little faith... Jesus says " If you have faith, and do not doubt.. You can say to this mountain 'Go and jump into the sea!'And it will be done."

You of little faith. You say it cannot be done. Maxine is here, she is 80 years old and her beautiful spirit and amazing love is already contagious in this place. You of little faith. You say it cannot be done... Yet Mike has already planned, plotted and schemed to have all three floors of the exterior of the school painted by Wednesday. You of little faith... You hold onto your world and tell your God that you cannot do this and you cannot do that when in actuality you have not handed your problems over to God at all but kept them to yourself to muddle over, massage and manipulate. You of little faith... You are not home.


Home is that place where you don't have to ask because you already know in your heart you are loved. Home is that place where you can laugh and snort till milk comes out your nose and you'll laugh some more just because it felt good. Home is that place where problems are shared and burdens are light.

There is a wonderful Haitian saying that dear Martine taught me, "many hands make light work": "Men anpil, Chay pa lou". I've seen it at work many times... At church when the bulletin isn't finished, newsletter deadline is looming and work is overwhelming...

"Men anpil, Chay pa Lou".

At Thanksgiving dinner when the dishes are piled high...

"Men anpil, Chay pa Lou"

Here in Haiti when the work seems too great, when the sun seems too hot, when the food seems like not enough, when the ground feels too hard, when the walls seem too high, when the money seems too small... Not only do I remember that "many hands make light work" I also remember as Pere Bruno said tonight " if you have faith, and do not doubt ... You can say to this mountain jump into the sea, and it will."

"Men anpil,Chay pa lou."

Our mountains may seem different from this side of the world, but our God is the same. Wherever you find yourself, whether it is in a strange land or in the comfort of your own living room, remember that God calls each of us home. When you find youself there, dirty and smelly, full of unadulterated joy and with an open spirit you will find yourself home. You will no longer care about the former things in life only that which you can change here, now and today. You are less worried about the mountains and more focused on the journey. In that place He gives us friends, brothers and sisters in Christ, with them, no matter the burden, the burden is light.

Tonight I really do miss my kids and husband . Tonight Joan and Betsy are already asleep and I'm considering sneaking over to my closet and getting that letter that Paul packed titled "open on a really hard day.". But also today my favorite people showed up (no offense Rotarian group, I've known them longer) and already they have brought me smiles from home, stories of my kids and wonderful little gifts to get me through the week. It certainly doesn't look like home here, but it is, and I can still honestly say " I wouldn't want to be anyplace else."

Bon nwi! Mwen renmem ou. ( I'm gonna make you look that one up!)