Palm Sunday in Haiti

We have been in Haiti for 3 days and awake on Palm Sunday to yet another beautiful day. We dress in the best clothes we have with us and assemble after breakfast for the walk to church. Simi, the leader of the tent city, escorts us to a nearby church. Services are being held in a semi-permenant structure contained within the ruin of the church that once stood on the site. As we arrive we hear singing - the tune is Battle Hymn of the Republic, although sung in Creole, and we assume with different lyrics. Space was found for us, and as we moved into the pews we joined in the singing. I will never hear that song the same way again. The faith of the members of the congregation was obvious and inspiring. After all that they endured, were still enduring, to demonstrate such an abiding faith - I don't know if I would be capable of it. The language barrier was no barrier, we all recognized the Lord's Prayer when it was said. During the service Merrilyn and Simi were called to the altar and spoken in both English and Creole and the congregation prayed for us and our mission - and we prayed for them.

After church we toured the local neighborhood by foot before returning to the hotel for lunch and a change back into work clothes. We had a mission ahead of us for he afternoon - finish that foundation. It was still not looking good.

We worked non-stop - mixing batch after batch of cement. Our pile of sand was getting smaller and smaller, further lending to our belief that the project would not be completed on time. A truck arrived with more sand - a heartening and depressing site - materials to finish the project, but also a sign of more work ahead. We mixed, we poured. At some point a group of young, Haitian men arrived and took over some of the more back breaking jobs. Where had they been for the last three days? You start to question - why are we doing all this work? Why are they not helping themselves more? You try to push those questions out of your head and carry on - we have a job to finish.

Late, late that afternoon the work reaches a frenzied pitch - the end is in sight. It truly looks as if this job will be completed. People from the various work sites around the camp start to gather as the last few wheel barrows are loaded and poured.

As the last barrow load is poured a member of Kenilworth Union begins to sing the doxology:

Praise God, from Whom all blessings flow; Praise Him, all creatures here below; Praise Him above, ye heavenly host; Praise Father, Son, and Holy Ghost.

We hug and cry - overwhelmed with emotion at what we have done. This job that we all thought impossible. When we gathered in small groups the night before we had talked about

the minor miracle of this trip. A group of mainly middle aged people who live a fairly sheltered and cushy life came here to this place. We worked harder than we have probably ever worked before. Yes we were exhausted, but none of us were hurting - no strains, no sprains, no thrown out backs. We were doing God's work, and God provided. And here we are, blessed to see the fruit of our labor borne out - the project that we didn't believe we could do - the project completed.

We mill around for quite a while, unable to drag ourselves away from what we have done. Everybody keeps staring at the slab of concrete envisioning what it will be like once walls are constructed and the rooms are filled with children learning. We take pictures of the site, or each other, with the children we have come to know and love.

Eventually darkness falls and we slowly return to the hotel. To the pool, to cold beer, to safety and civilization - to an outpost of our 'real world.' Tomorrow we will be leaving and we don't know how we will say goodbye.