i’m sitting on the plane, about halfway to miami. i have the headache of the century and lower back pains that i’ve never experienced before. leaving has literally made me sick. i’ve cried a multitude of times today, typically in small intervals, but they come on strong.
saying our goodbyes at the orphanage, i got to say goodbye to Joshua, who was in St. Marc when i got there, left for almost two months, and has since returned for almost 2 months, although he has been in Port-au-Prince for a little over a week to help train Ethan to be in charge of the kitchen for mission adventures this summer. after we climbed into the back of the teecan, he came over and said he had a word for us. he wanted to encourage us; how everyone prays that the change would begin with this generation, and we are doing just that, impacting this generation for this nation. that the relationships we’ve established with the children, and even with the people on base, will change lives. how he has seen the change from the beginning, how the teachers that have been there since the beginning have made such progress in the lives of these children, and reassured me, that i, too, have impacted there lives so much. i started to get choked up as he was talking, soaking in the encouragement as it was offered to me. jay started up the teecan, i gave joshua a hug, and as we began backing up, i started to lose it.
as we turned out of the long drive from the orphanage onto the alley road, i put on my sunglasses and sobbed silently, literally leaving haiti behind in the dust. as i thought about the words that joshua spoke over us, i couldn’t help but feel like that in my lack of emotion (or inability to process it), God just wanted to encourage use others to encourage me. i was spent; and i’ve had a real hard time even trying to talk to God, let alone even talk to the people around me. ya’ll know that i will strike up a conversation with anyone, friend or stranger, but i just haven’t even had the energy. God knows this. and i think He’s said, thats okay. just be. let me take care of all of this. don’t rush your emotion.
in that moment, realizing my stress-induced stomach pain and mental fog, i realized this: i was constipated. not just the can’t-use-the-bathroom constipation, but the mental, spiritual block that i can’t manage to process anything. i can’t force any words or thoughts or prayers out, no matter how hard i try to squeeze. ya’ll, i’ve never been constipated before; either physically or emotionally. but let me tell you, as of today, i have discovered that they might be the most painfully frustrating things in the world to deal with, especially simultaneously.
arriving at the airport, i was already alone. alone is not a word that i’ve been able t to illustrate much, if at all, in the past 4 months. although at times i felt somewhat constrained by the thoughts of always being surrounded by no-less-than 100 of your yet-to-be closest friends, i almost felt somewhat imprisoned by my newfound loneliness.
saying goodbye to stacia and anne after receiving my boarding pass wasn’t easy, but it wasn’t nearly as hard as i had thought it would be. i will miss them dearly, especially my lovely roommate anne. at the tender age of 21, and the roots of a pennsylvania farm girl, her innocence and acceptance nature was so refreshing. growing up mennonite, her heart and faith have been radically changed by her experience in haiti; and i’ve been so blessed to have gotten to know her. i know home for her is going to be a hard transition, but i see the strength she has in the Lord, and i know He will give her the courage and boldness to step out in faith, even at the cock-eyed look of members of her community and church.
after making it up through security, i sat on the brink of tears quite a few times while waiting for my flight. but none as crippling as walking through that gate and waiting in limbo before boarding the aircraft. the second i made it past the attendant, i burst into tears, putting my glasses on in the dark hallway as a futile and obvious attempt at hiding my emotion. i still can’t tell you what i was thinking or feeling, as much of this day has been a total blur. but the reality of leaving haiti became real.
as we lifted off the tarmac, my eyes again filled with tears. wanting to stick my heels through the floor of the plane and literally have them take me out of the country with my feet dragging, i curled up under my blanket in my aisle seat and drifted in and out of a light consciousness-- God’s attempt at giving me peace in my restlessness.
i journaled a bit throughout the flight, browsed some pictures, and shared some stories with the two ladies seated in my row. i had a diet coke, with ice, and some crackers; an ironic, personal metaphor to my feet in both worlds. de-boarding, i held my composure long enough to make it out of the gate and up the escalator before having a near-anxiety attack that sent me seeking refuge in the restroom. i felt so lost and overwhelmed; i couldn’t believe i was on US soil again. the culture shock was the most real thing i have felt in days., in the midst of the surreal denial that my time in Haiti was ending and i was, indeed, homeward bound. the overstimulation of impersonal contact-- as thousands of people scrambled about around me, but with no true interaction-- was so hard on my heart as well as my eyes. i tried to comfort myself with a sandwich stuffed with fresh veggies as subway in the terminal, but even the thought of choices and variety overwhelmed me into oblivian, and it took a good 5 minutes before i could even order. even with spinach leaves, olives, wheat bread, and turkey, i’m missing haiti in the worst of ways.
***
as we lift off the tarmac, tents and tarps have been replaced with the cookie-cutter communities and corporate america. their roofs, intact; the streets, identifiable grid-systems linking baseball diamonds with football fields, shopping malls with high-rise plazas. spanish instructions have replaced the french and creole, and is as dissonant to my ears as my feelings on leaving hating/reentering the states are to my heart. with every inhale, the pain in my lower back increases. i realize the dust that once clouded my lungs as been replaced with clean, fresh, cold air; but it doesn’t refresh my soul as i once thought it would.
readjusting is going to take time.
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