Displaced

³³ “‘When a foreigner resides among you in your land, do not mistreat them. ³⁴ The foreigner residing among you must be treated as your native-born. Love them as yourself, for you were foreigners in Egypt. I am the Lord your God.” Leviticus 19:33-34

This blog post is a little unusual for me and my style, but I wanted to take a moment to update everyone on my current situation with in light of everything that is going in Haiti.

At the beginning of March, many of the active gangs in Haiti banded together in an attempt to overthrow the remaining government and infrastructure in Haiti. This started with attacks on the Port-Au-Prince airport, which lead to the cancellation of flights, and ultimately delayed the return of the Prime Minister Ariel Henry to Haiti. Then, on March 2nd, the gangs broke into two major prisons in Haiti, freeing a few thousand prisoners. Many of these prisoners were members of the gangs themselves. On Monday, March 4th, the airport in PAP officially shut down, further delaying Ariel Henry’s return, and a state of emergency was declared in the Ouest department, where I live.

Ultimately, the gangs were successful. Haiti’s remaining infrastructure crumbled, and the highly unpopular Ariel Henry was eventually pressured into resigning. He is still unable to return to Haiti.

While there is so much political and social discourse surrounding these hugely important events, I’m going to largely stay away from those discussions in this post. Those conversations are extremely important, but my heart is breaking for the average Haitian – the regular, everyday citizen that is literally just trying to live and carry out everyday tasks. And, these “normal” people – these everyday citizens- those are the people that are my family. Those are the people who have changed my life. I don’t want to miss them in favor of higher level political discussions right now.

I was in my home in Delmas 31, an area of Port-Au-Prince, when the airport shut down. My home is close enough to the airport that we could hear what was happening, but not close enough for us to be in any immediate danger, praise God. I was scheduled for a routine visit to the States only two days after the airport shut down, so of course my trip was cancelled. This wasn’t my first rodeo by any stretch of the imagination. I’d been “stuck” in Haiti before, and I am no stranger to the sounds of automatic gunfire, or to the threat of gangs getting a little too close for comfort. But, this was a different situation – the gangs were taking over the capital, and they were doing so with great success. They took over all ports, land and sea, and they were hitting hospitals, government buildings, and banks as freely as they wanted. It felt like a waiting game, we never knew what the gangs had planned or if they might get even closer. The results were devastating, and the atmosphere was heavy and dark.

I was in Haiti for just over two weeks after this started, and there is still so much I’m unable to put into words. I took place in a State Department-lead evacuation from the U.S. Embassy, a wild experience on its own. And while there are so many things I could unpack and share, my heart continually comes back to the people in Haiti who did life with me during those two weeks.

I’m safe in America now, and frankly, I was safe the entire time I was in Haiti. I had everything I needed brought to me, and I was able to safely participate in a helicopter evacuation in the middle of Tabarre – which is currently under control of one of the major gangs.

All of this is true because of the amazing Haitians who have become my family over the past six years. They have consistently cared for me, welcomed me, included me, and taught me how to live successfully in their country. My heart is so filled with gratitude for all they have done and continue to do for me, and I feel honored to know them and be a part of their lives.

Many people have asked me if I’m relieved to be in the States, and the truth is – I’m not. Don’t get me wrong, I’m grateful that I had the opportunity to get to safety, and I believe that evacuating was the right decision for me, for my family, and even for the Haitians I work with. But, I’m not relieved. How could I be? I am in America, but the situation in Haiti has not changed. In fact, it’s still declining. I’m here, but my Haitian friends aren’t. They’re still in the trenches, and they know they will never be offered the same opportunities for rescue that I was offered. They’re stuck in it, and they’re doing everything they can to cope with unimaginable trauma and risk.

I always try to look for what God is teaching me when I find myself in a place I don’t fully understand. And while I’m still processing and unpacking my feelings about all of this, I can say one of the blessings He has given me has been a deeper compassion for the displaced around me.

My home is in Haiti. My life is there now. Yes, America is and always will be a home for me as a natural-born citizen… but I’ve built my adult life in Haiti. I fled my home. I left my pets, my belongings, and most importantly, my people, for a currently unknown amount of time with only my backpack and purse.

I’ve talked to several Haitians who have relocated to the States, and they understand what I’m feeling. We have all connected through a tension we’re living in – a gratitude for our own safety, and a guilt that others we love won’t have the same opportunity. And for the Haitians who have fled, they’re often met with another set of challenges that I’ll never know in America – they aren’t welcomed here. They hear the constant political discourse about immigration, and their hearts hurt.

“Why can’t Americans understand I wish I could return to Haiti? This is not my home.”

I hear this question from displaced Haitians so often. They long for home, but they can’t have it. Then they turn on the news, and they’re reminded they aren’t welcomed here either.

I am reminded of Leviticus 19:33-34, and the call we are given to welcome and care for the foreigner. Having lived in a foreign land myself, I know how important that kindness and hospitality can be.

No matter where you stand politically on immigration and foreign policy issues, I urge you to approach your conversations with love and kindness. No matter how you vote in regards to policy, I challenge you to extend hospitality to the foreigners around you. We never truly know what someone is walking through privately, so what is the harm in leading with love? Folks, we’re directly called to it. We simply cannot ignore God’s word about foreigners among us here: “love them as yourself”.

I miss my home. I miss my Haiti family, and my heart is burdened for them. I’m praying for the day to come quickly for me and my displaced Haitian friends to able to safely return.

Jesus, You know my heartache. Thank You for sitting next to me in it. Bringing healing to the hearts of all the displaced, and help us to better love them. Soften our hearts towards them; fill us with your love and compassion. Help us love them as ourselves.