First Class, Homemade Cookies, and Touch Down

The last three days have been a whirlwind. Had a couple people who couldn't go on the trip at last minute..creating a bit of reorganizing and shuffling details. Yesterday I showed up at the airport to find out that my flight was canceled because they didn't have a crew. But I got the last seat on first class for the following day. Heading home I had to shuffle details again. Last night I stood looking at four bags equaling 250 lbs and wondered how on earth I was going to pass all this equipment for just one person.

Getting to Haiti is always the hardest part. . Your bags are overweight and it usually causes craziness. God knew what I needed this morning. Showed up to the counter and because I had first class I got to check the overweight bags for FREE and only had to pay 150.00 instead of 600.00 for all the weight. Ummmm, thank you Jesus. I then found out that first class fliers get to pass the security check line and board first. One thing after the next...God made a day that is usually exhausting, a PERFECT delight.

I woke up from my nap to the smell of cookies. Totally thinking I was dreaming I went to the bathroom and came across the flight attendant who was taking freshly, baked cookies out of the plane oven...hahahah, am I in a dream? I could get used to this first class thing....warm cookies and milk. God's gift to me today was an easy flight, our bags, and cookies and milk. Felt like I was five all over again.

Touched down in Haiti. Always a breath of fresh air. Got all my bags and hit the streets with my friend. So good to be back. The hustling and bustling has not stopped, but there is this energy that is hard to describe. The tap-taps, the people working in the market, the boys on the street, constant movement. A little boy in heavy traffic went out of his way to stop the traffic for us. Walked flat out into the traffic put up his hands and stopped a tap tap so we could get out. He was maybe 8. Stopped to give him a dollar. Really just wanted to take him home. His voice was so quiet and faint. Asked him his name, barely could hear and was trying to get a smile, but was unsuccessful. The streets of Haiti are another world sometimes. In Boston you see older men and women at the curbs washing cars for change, cleaning a window, or just asking...in Haiti it is the children. 4, 5, 8 years old out in the heat trying to make a dollar. Seems so foreign...where is the break down? Further confirmed in my heart the calling of Making Roots to start a home for boys living on the street.

Seen good friends, trying to get the creole back...and it is off tomorrow up North. Praying for the bags, the plane ride. I am on stand by, which means I wait...and wait..and wait...pray for a ticket..and patience! So hot here...can't explain. But I got blessed with a room with AC, this will be the first and last for this trip. Think sleep is calling my name early. Will hopefully get pictures up for next blog.