Today we had the opportunity to go to Cite Sole. It was water truck day. As our tap tap pulled into the city, the children chanted with an utter excitement, “HEY YOU, HEY YOU, HEY YOU!” As we neared our stop, preconceived notions became our own real fears.
She didn’t think she could. In her moment of nervousness, she thought, “I can’t.” She doesn’t speak their language, didn’t know how to connect nor communicate with them. For a split second she looked out at everyone and thought, “I shouldn’t be here.” The enemy crept in feeding the fears and telling the lies, such as “will I be able to fully embrace these kids and give them any love?” God had a better plan. The big eyes and big smiles and open arms of the children who embraced her and nestled into her chest broke down every barrier she thought existed. The sweet boy who jumped up in her arms gave her the best hug of her life. Just like that, God allowed her “I can’t” to become “I can.”
(1528)
The closer we were to reaching Cite Sole – she felt a wave of panic come over her. The self-doubting questions started filtering through her mind like a hamster wheel. “Can I do this?” “Do I have enough love to share with these people?” “What do I even have to offer them?” At that moment, she turned over her shoulder and saw something that felt familiar to her, something that felt like home. Her eyes and her heart were paying attention. She saw a row of soccer fields. She grew up playing soccer. It was a part of who she was. And there in the midst of a scary, out-of-her-comfort-zone situation, she felt comfort. God met her in that moment. She remembered a mantra her dad had uttered continuously when she played growing up. “Leave it all out on the field.” She wasn’t about to step on the soccer field, but she was about to enter the mission field. And in that moment of comfort, she knew that all that she had, rather, all God had given her, she had to leave that love out on the mission field. The best part about the day was, when kids were speaking in Creole and she was not exactly sure what to say, she muttered the word “Futbol?” and got to see their faces light up. As she left the mission field, she didn’t feel like she left anything at all. Something better happened. She gained understanding, love and met some people who loved the game of futbol just as much as she did.
(1984)
The closer she got to Cite Sole, the reality of it became real to her. She froze. It was overwhelming. Hearing “HEY YOU, HEY YOU!” made her realize there was no turning back. She thought to herself, “Ok, here we go.” After walking out the tap tap, she never looked back. And then a sweet girl never left her side. When she needed to transition from holding the girl to holding the water hose, the little girl followed her every move, the three-year-old hand mirroring hers. Never in her wildest dreams could she have imagined connecting with a three-year-old girl that just wanted to be with her wherever she went. The expression, “HEY YOU” that initially overwhelmed her now had an endearing, comforting ring to it.
Their apprehension and American cultural barriers that keep people at arms length combined with the Haitian children’s uninhibited, instantaneous ability to connect at a pure level of genuineness ultimately transformed them.
~Victoria Abell, Natalie Macias, Jen Bassford
