Project 1 Draft 2
A typical mission team from an outside perspective looks and seems as follows: Jesus freaks that are too scared to even say the word "heck," singing with their acoustic guitars all day long, and judging anyone that doesn't tie in the Holy Spirit to every conversation possible. My mission team, luckily, is the most extreme opposite to the usual case. Our community of twelve has worked together for the last six years going on mission trips locally in Apopka, Florida, nationally in Lineville, Alabama and New Orleans, Louisiana, and even internationally to Haiti. The high school and college aged men and women are basically my family, holding me accountable for my actions and thoughts, and keeping me in check when I'm about to do something immoral or dishonorable to myself. My mission team knows me as my true identity, not only a sweet girl, but also somewhat of a wild card. I have laughed uncontrollably with them, and had deep conversations with all of them until the break of dawn, under the stars. Our passion for helping people meshes together so easily, providing the feeling of a family unit with anybody to fall back on if need be. After going to Haiti in 2016, we all fell in love with every single aspect about it. It only confirmed our wishes to return even further after reading an article from the BBC about the final damage hurricane Matthew had done to the beautiful country of Haiti. Over one thousand innocent people had died in the storm. We knew we had to return not only to help, but to make sure our friends we had made in the previous year were safe.
Although our eccentric group of twelve has numerous laughable moments together, we have also experienced very dark situations together. This year while in Haiti, one hot Friday morning brought us closer together than ever before. We took a canter out from Titanyen, the village we lived in, to Mesaye-a place near and dear to all of our hearts. Our task for the day was to conduct Strategic Village Time. This involves meeting villagers to ask them questions about their health, education, safety, and relationship with Christ, as well as build a relationship with the men and women living here. It was same old same old, a routine done in Haiti almost every day by Mission of Hope (the organization in charge of mission work in Haiti). It was a hot morning, and the week was starting to wear us out. The lack of wind was taking a toll on my body. We trekked up a mountain to the very last house on the very top, where we met Kalene. Kalene welcomed us into her beautiful one room home while her four children played outside. The scheduled dialogue started up as usual. How long have you lived in Mesaye? What are your children's names? Are you married?
"No, I'm no longer married."
In Haiti, this is fairly unusual. She explained that her husband was a voodou priest, involved in gangs and killings constantly. Kalene was tired of keeping her children in danger at her old home in Bercy, so she left for Mesaye. However, her husband found her new hideaway, and was extremely angry. He started putting a poison powder common in voodou along her doorstep in order to make the family sick. It worked. Kalene fell extremely ill, but did not give up. She explained to us that at that time, she turned to Christ, praying every day and reading her Bible. Because of this, she believes she was healed.
"Amazing! Mesi Jezi!" We realized we had just met a truly remarkable woman. Her faith in Christianity and humble attitude to care for her children no matter the situation was reassuring. But she was not anywhere near finished. For we did not know what was going to happen next, but it was a fact that our team had been put on that mountain that morning for a reason. I asked Kalene if her children went to school. g299717186
"No, we cannot afford to go to school." Typical answer in the mountains of Mesaye.
She walked over to the wall and plucked a photo off the wall. It was a school photo. It was her daughter, she said, but we didn't see her outside playing. Kalene begins her story. In 2015, she and her daughter were in the market. All of a sudden, her daughter was nowhere to be found. Market day in Haiti is a huge commotion regularly, but this time Kalene heard even more chaos than usual. A murder had taken place behind the market. Curious about the action, the mother investigated. She never would have thought to see her own daughter slaughtered and laying helpless among the trees.
We all wept. Our team, our interns, our translators, Kalene, everyone. We held on to her for what seemed like hours as our translator prayed and sang. He sang an old and familiar song not only in Haiti, but in the states. "There is power in the name of Jesus, to break every chain" were the lyrics we sang over and over. The wind blew rushed through the one room house as we sat together. Wind chimes clinked together outside. It was truly fate that brought our team to see Kalene. We came with the notion of healing her, but she healed us. Her story broke down so many emotional barriers our team was holding up, and after we finally left her house, we all connected like we never had before.
My mission team has been with each other for years now, and I wouldn't trade any person for anything in the world. Our community is the most wholesome and genuine one I have ever had the pleasure of being a part of, and I will be a part of it for as long as I am alive.
