Like Angels

When we first started Haitian Roots with 23 children, Isson's mother (who lives in Haiti and personally knows some of the families in our program) said to him, "You have no idea what this means to these families--to these parents. It is literally as if angels have come down from the heavens and lifted them out of the mud and set them on solid ground."

Of course that made me feel good. In my heart, I believed that education would really make a difference, but I didn't realize how much hope it could bring to an entire family.I have had some very spiritual experiences in regards to my involvement with Haitian Roots. I will share one that was particularly touching and also very pointed. I was sitting in the same spot I'm sitting now--at my computer. It was August of 2007. We had recently returned home from a trip to Haiti. It had been very overwhelming. We had parents come to our gathering because they'd heard about the possibility of an organization that could help their children go to school. There were so many practically on their hands and knees begging us for help. We had around 50 in the program at that time and when we came home we decided to increase that number to 100 by the end of August (for school to start). 100 was not nearly enough, but it was still a lofty goal (fundraising-wise) for us and we decided we would try our best to make it happen. After talking to our coordinators in Haiti, they stated that they had weeded down the list to 113 and wondered if we could do that -- an additional $3250 when we didn't even have the money we needed for the 100 we had agreed to.

So, I sat at my computer, thinking of those children and crunching numbers. For all 113 children, we were $6,000 short and that was just for the first payments (we send down an initial payment at the beginning of the year to cover registration, uniforms, books and the first couple of months tuition; after getting all of the receipts back from the families to show that the kids really were in school, we send a second payment in January to cover the rest of the year). I kept seeing the faces of the kids and felt sick to my stomach. I began to pray. I prayed hard. And then a thought came into my mind, as clear as day. Not an audible voice, yet clearly speaking to me, It said, "It is not your prayers that will make this happen. It is the parents who are praying for their children. You just do the work. I'll open the doors and you walk through them." With tears streaming down my face I prayed, "Thank you. I can do that." I wrote a sincere letter to many close friends and family regarding our desire to send 113 children to school. And the parents' prayers were answered. We had another $10,000 by the end of the week.Since that time, I have been completely humbled to be a part of anything to do with Haitian Roots. People often tell me that we are doing something wonderful and it makes me feel really stupid, embarrassed and strange. I do not feel that way at all. I feel like we are the ones that are extremely lucky and blessed to be a part of anything that might make a difference to somebody. Like, why do I get to be a part of this? I think that those on the trip with me last month will agree with these feelings.

The parents of our Haitian Roots children are not perfect (right Chareyl?), but for the most part they are good people. Some of them are EXCEPTIONAL. And they love their children fiercely. Many of them in our program also love other's children fiercely. We have several parents in our program who have taken in the orphans of friends or family members and love them as their own, even while struggling to feed their own. There are parents in our program who have lost their homes in hurricanes and have had to live in ditches, their children have malaria, and they can hardly eat, yet they have hope because their child is receiving an education. We have parents who cannot afford medical care for their child who has sickle cell anemia and is now half paralyzed from a stroke. We have parents who work in abusive situations under the most horrible circumstances to be able to put a meal on the table every few days. Yet they have hope because their child is receiving an education. We have parents who hug us and kiss us and say, in their broken English, "thank you, thank you, thank you." They ask, "please, tell me the name of our sponsor." So that they can write a letter personally to them to tell them what a blessing they have been to their child and to their family. Nearly every letter includes some form of, "May God bless you." We have parents who offer to help us in any way possible--cooking for the parties or making sure we get to places we need to be.I remember shortly after Loumy came home, he was sitting in his high chair. He had some major food issues when he came home because he had been so hungry so often for so long. At nine months of age, he weighed only 11 pounds (I know, to some Haitian parents that sounds chubby). Anyway, if I didn't have his food prepared before he was sitting in his highchair, he would start to panic. He would sob and cry these huge tears. I remember feeding him and trying to calm him down (he was gulping in this sweet potatoes so fast!). I was whispering to him, "It's okay. It's okay. I promise you will always be fed. I won't ever let you starve again. It's okay." Then two thoughts came to me. First, "get on food storage girl, you gotta keep that promise!" And second, more poignantly, "What about all of the parents in Haiti who want nothing more than to feed their child, to take them to the hospital when they are sick, to say nothing of toys for Christmas and shoes that fit?" Although I've seen it with my own eyes, I honestly cannot put myself in their place without turning into a huge blubbering mess. So, I don't go there. I just work.So, to Isson's dear mother, who said that "we" (Haitian Roots' donors) were like "angels" coming down, I would sincerely respond that we are not the ones. Knowing these children and these families, being with them in Haiti, is truly as if walking amongst Angels. And it is an honor.