Today I am at a loss for words.
From the desperate steps I took outside my door last year at 5pm, until my return home to Canada in July, I felt like I was in some sort of time capsule, separated from the rest of the world. Time was moving, but it seemed to drag and blur at the same time. A fog of uncertainty.
Flashbacks of a deafening rumble. Time standing still. Seconds lasting hours.
But the seconds turned into minutes, the minutes to hours, hours to days, weeks, months, and now, one year.
One year of mourning. One year of healing. One year of tents becoming cities. One year of new ideas and projects put in motion. One year of questions. One year of awareness. One year of people dropping everything to give or jump on a plane to help. One year of promises being claimed. One year of prayers and praise.
There were moments when I never thought that I would get this far. I can look back on moments where I froze - when I didn't want to have to go another day. But as my neighbour and friend Rachel put today, I'm so very thankful that I get see today.
This morning I had the chance to walk down the same familiar mission hill and worship with a congregation of beautifully broken people. Each one with the story that would make a front-page news headline for loss and trauma. As my steps got closer to the church, I prepared myself for mourning and grief. I expected to witness a nation re-living the pain of last years events. To see tears being shed for all that was lost. A day to linger in devastation. I was wrong.
Before entering the church, I could hear the music. Getting closer, I could see from a distance that people were standing outside the doors - standing room only. The church was bursting at the seams with people praising and worshipping and rejoicing in the love of their Saviour. There were bright smiles, hands raised and dancing.
Once again I was humbled and amazed at the beauty and strength that my Haitian brothers and sisters have testified to me. As the pastor spoke, we are living to give GLORY to God. Not to wallow in despair. What a challenge.
As I sit in my apartment, the songs of the people drift in my window. Another service is just beginning and I don't want to miss it.
Thank you all for your continued support and prayers for the nation of Haiti both in the yesterdays, todays and tomorrows. May we continue to live to worship Him in this life, and may He soon lead His children to the promised land!