New Year's Eve Reflections

We’ve reached the end of a year. And what a year it has been. Times of change and struggle are times of growth. A year ago, I was in the midst of interviews, searching real-estate adds in Denver and in the foothills. And when 2008 hit, so did the opportunity to come to Haiti. The year began with an intense decision-making process, the finalization of residency and seminary, and celebrations to follow. We underwent a massive purge of everything we owned, packed up our lives and hit the road traveling for vacations with friends, quality time with family, church itineration and Global Ministry orientation. We said goodbye to a way of life we’d always known for a chance to experience life looking through a different lens.

There is no one-word sentence to summarize our time thus far in Haiti. Words that come to mind: intense, mind-blowingly frustrating, deeply-moving, heart-wrenching, full of laughter, adventurous, hot and sweaty, and profound moments of peace. I've never felt more bipolar in my life. A day often holds moments of elation, fiery frustrations or tearful despair.

Part of it all is the acclamation process. Language barriers are difficult to navigate, cultural barriers are complicated to understand. And we learn, we make mistakes, and try again.

Often, Patrick and I feel like we've been dropped here from outer-space, and left to fend for ourselves. Loneliness and frustration are daily battles. But little by little, we meet new people, we fall in love with the uniqueness of the culture, we step a little further into the relationships with our Haitian co-workers, and find wonder in the encounters on the streets, in the school and in the clinic.

I've never been among a culture that laughs so much. Teasing, joking and guffaws fill so many conversations. They laugh at us. They laugh at themselves. Our partners always joke how serious Americans are. And certainly Patrick and I have been guilty of taking ourselves too seriously here. But we are learning to relax a little and allowing humor to help transform defeat into hope.

The children are beautiful, funny, and space-invading; they are interested in touching, lingering, peeking, conversing. The people are full of spirit and swagger, determination and resolve. Everyone moves slow, takes their time, but keeps moving.

The environment is completely intense, and sometimes I want to scream in the midst of it all. The city is polluted and hot, filthy and dry, and poverty is painted into everything and is inescapable. Yet there are places--stretches of landscape, of humanity, of ocean, of mountain top or spray of flower--that can provide a break from the dust and remind you that you are on a beautiful planet that strives to ever live, breath and heal.

My work is terrifying. I've never felt so alone or incapable. I'm used to taking care of people without resources, but I always made myself, at least, feel better by spending time counseling, educating, listening. And at this point in the game, I have a long way to go with language and culture learning to have that kind of interaction. I focus on doing the best that I can with what I have, and simply being present with the people, holding hands, listening, even if I don't know exactly what they are saying. I strive to find patience with the process, with myself.

If we can find patience and have enough luck to survive this "acclamation" time, there is potential to do great things, and learning from Haiti. I wish even the smallest things weren't so incredibly hard, but it is teaching us a ton about ourselves, if nothing else. And Patrick and my relationship has evolved into an entirely new being: more close, more intimate, completely interdependent in a healthy way. I am in awe of him in his abilities here. I am grateful for someone here who understands my needing to pound my head or fist against the wall, picks up a conversation I have to drop if I'm near tears, who makes me laugh out loud at the bizarre of our days, and who allows for quiet moments I need just to let go of it all. So if nothing else happens, at the very least we will know ourselves and each other better. For all practical purposes, we are indeed stranded on this island together... and if not always tropically romantic, it has brought us closer than ever.

From start to finish, 2008 has been packed with more emotion, more self-reflection and discernment, more frustration, more communicating and connecting, more reaching out, more challenge than any other year of our lives. We’ve come away with new thoughts on materialism, social and political justice, on balance of wealth. We have been humbled. We have found an even deeper appreciation for friends, for family, for community. Absence makes the heart grow fonder indeed, but the efforts so many have made to reach out across the boundaries of distance and border to hold our hands, to welcome us, to listen, to help us laugh, to remind us of home through this year have been the most incredible part of the year.

So as 2009 approaches in a matter of hours, we take the lessons learned from 2008 into the new year. May we leave behind the fear, the doubt, the anger, the mistakes made and start again a little wiser, a little stronger from the journey thus far. May we take with us a new understanding that we are hear to try, to do the best we can with our gifts, to be present in the moment, to work for something better, to develop friendships new and cherish those that have been with us all along the way. No need for resolutions, just recognition of where we’ve been and where we want to go. May a new year take us a little deeper into spirit, may it challenge us to look outside of ourselves, and may it be colored with hope, with gratitude and with love.