Little islands started to appear out of the Caribbean sea and I could feel my heart start to quicken it's beat; almost there, my heart sighed; it'd been too long. In fact it was exactly 2 weeks shy of being a full year since I last stepped foot in Haiti.
The warm, thick, dusty air was welcoming and as I climbed into the back of the truck, atop a pile of bins and suitcases, it felt like I'd never left, it felt like I was home again. However, though I would like time to stand still when I leave Haiti or I wish I could live in two places at once, it doesn't work like that, things were different as Maranatha has grown and wonderful interns have come or returned to serve at Maranatha, there was a new class of two year olds that I knew only from pictures and there were 16 little faces that no longer attended preschool; 2 little girls in particular that I'd worked with and watched grow so much during my time in Haiti were sorely missed - though I know my Jesus is holding them in the palm of His hand.
I read a blog last year about why missionaries can never go home, this little piece of it is so true, it hits me every time I read it: "Home is no longer home. And sadly, that other place on the mission field will never truly be home either. Home is both places, and neither place, at the same time." this is all too true but I love having two homes and two large families! It was so wonderful to see the Tlucek family again and see how their ministry has grown and all the wonderful changes :)
The first full day in Haiti was a whirlwind of emotions and activities, I wish I would have thought to record the staff and children's reactions; lots of screaming, hugging, lots of laughs and a couple little girls that were upset I'd left them. Children grow so much in just a year it really isn't fair! I managed to not cry until a certain little girl was placed in my arms.... She was fondly nicknamed zetwal (star in kreyol) by another intern that first semester I was in Haiti and it fits her so perfectly I've called her it ever since. She is the littlest of my 3 Haitian sisters and had been on my heart and mind so much the past year that to actually hold her again and know that she was ok... I can't find the words to describe. I carried her inside and sat down with the oldest class for assembly and the tears really flowed as I looked around at all the familiar faces, my little zetwal and another girl just sat and wiped my tears away with their hands telling me it was ok and to not cry.
I spent the first class period with the oldest group that have a class with an amazing American teacher ALL in English! They proudly showed off their English for me and I almost cried again seeing how far they've come and how well they're doing with their studies; especially the ones that I knew had really struggled beforehand.
The next class period I went around checking on my team that had plugged in with different groups or stations, I truly had a wonderful team and I'm thankful for each one of them and the unique gifts they each brought.
The last class I spent playing with playdough - when we had the letter P for the week my first year in Haiti I taught the kids how to make playdough crowns and this lil firecracker remembered!
I took a very long nap after that and then we went on a trip to the metal arts! One of my favorite places to go - yes despite the clanging and hammering I LOVE it! At the tin market/metal arts artisans create the most fascinating, beautiful and comical things out of tin ;)
As we finished with dinner and were sitting together under the gazebo, waiting for devotions to start and just enjoying everyones company and stories from the day, my eyes kept wandering up to the top of the gazebo where my father had put chicken wire up last year to keep pigeons away, and then to the grapevines that wove their way around the pool and back up to the gazebo that he'd trimmed so carefully before. In all the crazy and all the joy from the day there was grief again, there was the void a 6' 4" father could only fill and all I wanted in the world was for my father to be sitting at that table. Worship and devotions started and the tears refused to fall
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