m'rele Carly

more than a month after training and sending a team to haiti, i am finally able to think about the trip, to hear stories with an open heart and mind, and to fully process what it means that i didn't go this year. i spoke on the phone with Deb this weekend, and i was flooded with memories of sitting on her porch or standing in her kitchen, exposing my soul and my struggles, bearing her burdens with her, and spending time in prayer together. i was flooded with memories of children in blue school uniforms chasing after us, playing games with us, teaching me Kreyol. i was reminded of what it was like to return to that school in Foison, to see the children that i know, to call out their names and to see their faces light up. i could almost feel the warmth of the Haitian sun on my skin and smell the sweet smell that hits your nose at the first step off the plane. i also talked to Amber this week, and she told me a story from her trip, from the one day the team spent at the school in Foison. she told me about how they saw the building that our churches worked together to complete. and she told me about the little girl named Clarnese who came up to her and asked for Carly, and when she responded that Carly wasn't there, Clarnese turned to her friends and told them that Carly wasn't there this time. this story brought me to tears. i keep the kids that i know in Haiti in my heart every day. i see their faces on my wall and i pray that they are well. i know that there are limits to the relationships that we can build with thousands of miles and cultural, language and age barriers between us. but i learned early that what i can do is know their names. remember their faces. and pray. each time i have returned, the moment that i looked forward most to was the first day stepping off that truck and being able to call those kids by name. but i never imagined that they would give me that same blessing. i still don't know how to handle the fact that i didn't go this year. or how to live with a piece of my heart being held in the hands of these kids who live so far away and so differently from me. but i know that the moment i still look forward to is getting out of the back of that truck and being able to call those kids by name once more.