New Year; New beginnings.

With the new year, comes new beginnings, and we all know that new beginnings can be scary; but this new beginning I am totally over the moon excited for. I am once again packing my entire existence into a few suitcases and making the big move to Haiti. Why you ask?

Because during my time away and trying to finish my University degree, I realized that I think about Haiti every minute of every day. It consumes me. It is where my heart lies and my fondest memories live. Haiti is where I found myself as a young woman and where I decided to say goodbye to my life full of the finer things, and start a new one far from everything I had ever known and loved. That experience taught me a way to see the world, and to understand how the world sees Haiti.

Because I love my life in Haiti and I love my children. My days are filled with endless obstacles and frustrations that seem impossible to overcome, but ultimately bring peace to my mind. Yes, I have changed thousands of dirty diapers, wiped away thousands of teary eyes, and spent many days covered in baby food and vomit. I have chewed out moto drivers for being disgustingly rude to me, bartered in markets, and grabbed children harshly by the arm for physically fighting each other in the street. But I have also kissed hundreds of beautiful babies, crossed paths with the most inspirational people, and taught teenagers and adults who were completely illiterate to read and write. I have seen pain and suffering, but I have also witnessed beauty and faith.

Because I miss spending each and every moment with the kids that have so profoundly impacted my life. Tyson is struggling with speech delay and I know that he needs some serious one on one time to help him improve. My 16 year old, Jenny, is longing for guidance and to have that "mother" role filled in her most crucial years. Emilio is starting to roll over and loves to walk holding your hands, and I don't want to miss his very first steps. I don't want to miss first days of school, graduations, birthdays, dance recitals, or just the every day events that make me giggle. I don't want to miss any of it.

My departure date will be at the beginning of February. I have exactly one month to get all of my affairs in order, move out of my place here in Canada, sell my belongings, and figure out how to get the essentials to Haiti. I am anxious to see what the future holds. I feel contentment in my heart knowing that this is what I want; that this year of sorrow and grief from missing my life in Haiti is over. I am glad that I came home for a break (it was needed) and I am proud that I finished another year of school, but I am even happier knowing that I am returning to the place that I call "home". I am prepared for the unknown, prepared for the struggles, I am prepared for the days filled with chaos and returning to the country that is currently in a political meltdown; and I am most of all prepared to spend my time with the people that have stolen my heart.

This year has been a fantastic year of growth. Not only did Hime For Help grow by welcoming new board members, but our home in Haiti also grew by welcoming new little ones and new staff members.
We have been able to help more families this year than ever. We have been able to purchase our very first vehicle. Our kids are now enrolled in a very pristine dance school where they are learning so much more than just "dance". We have been able to meet all of our children's needs and beyond. And we could not have been able to do that without the help of our wonderful sponsors and fundraisers. You guys are the ones that make this happen!

Going into 2015 we have many more goals for growth. We have many more needs that need to be met. We are looking forward to the new volunteers that will be joining us and to the new board members that we will be welcoming. I see great things happening in 2015, I feel that it is going to be the year for accomplishments!!

I just returned home from Haiti and spent a wonderful Christmas with my children. They were so spoiled this year but it was great to see their big smiles. Thank you to all of those who donated toys or sent money towards the purchase of gifts. Also a big thank you to those that purchased items off of our online gift catalogue, it is a huge help! I hope you all had a Merry Christmas & I hope you have an even better New Year!!

Going into the new year I have many resolutions, I've tried to sum it up as best as possible:

Live this life moment by moment without fixating on the unchangeable past or the non-existent future. Seek adventure and seek meaning. Taste the unusual food, smell the foreign aromas. Feel the dirt in between my toes, and bask in the glory that dirty feet are testimony to my grassroots existence in Haiti. Laugh with the children, and cuddle the babies. Listen to the complaints of my community, not just with my ears but also with my mind and my heart; I am a ray of hope even if I can only offer hugs. Have patience and let go of negative feelings. Read every book imaginable. Enjoy the very few moments of free time that I am graciously granted, and savour those blank hours as a time to reflect and simply breathe. Teach and learn simultaneously; I have much to offer Haiti, but even that much more to absorb. Leave the imprints of my running shoes along the mountainous roads and accept change as it comes. Do not allow anything to taint goals or desires. Always dream big. Relish the ability to be uniquely me, in a world untouched by societal pressures. Laugh always. Soak up each day, each minute, and each second, because I will one day find myself reflecting on these days as a hazy memory. And when I am an old woman with silver hair and deep-rooted wrinkles filled with knowledge and experience, I will look back and say, damn, that was the best time of my life.

And Sometimes There's Heartache...

Travel. It’s such an exotic term that exerts thoughts of wanderlust and adventure. It’s a word that creates images of young people taking off on their own and finding their place in the world; while backpacking through Europe or snorkeling with exotic fish in Australia. Travel creates glorious memories to be cherished as “the best time of our lives”, like posing with the statue of liberty or the Eiffel tower, right? Well, allow me to respectfully burn these images from your mind as I introduce you to the world of travel in a developing country. It is a whole new ball game, and you won’t survive without a few bruises and tears.

My last few years have been filled with life-altering challenges and extreme soul searching, but I have come to the conclusion that every twist and turn in life has lead me to where I am today and I am now standing right where I am meant to be. I am not off saving the world, and I am not some glamorous hero who will eradicate world hunger or poverty. But my presence in Haiti has given happiness if not hope to a few nameless children that have crossed my path, and possibly to a few special people who I will always hold dear to my heart.

My eyes have recently been opened by the heartbreaking case of a little girl that I had the blessing to help. Nassa was 11 months old when she came to me, she weighed 7 pounds and was very ill. The sight of her made my stomach churn. How could a child get to this point? How could anyone that saw this little baby girl not step up? Not do something ? Since birth she has been suffering from HIV which had progressed quickly and then she contracted TB. Her chances of making it were slim from the get go. When I rushed her to the hospital in August, Doctors told me she would not make it through the night. They removed her oxygen mask as well as her feeding tube. They had given up hope. Little did they know that I would stay by her bedside forcing her to drink water from the cap of my water bottle and forcing her to eat whenever she had the strength to do so. I prayed like crazy hoping that this little girl would make it, and if she didn't, then I prayed that she would least know that someone was by her side. Nassa's mother was also very ill. The family could not afford medications or transportation to and from the hospital, they could barely afford to feed themselves.

Despite her unfortunate circumstances, she didn't stop fighting. After spending over a month in the hospital, she was discharged. In October I went to visit her and her family. She looked amazing. She had gained weight and regained her strength. Finally that little girl could laugh and play around like any other baby. She sat there grabbing at my face and giggling and twirling her little fingers through my hair… It was easy to forget that her quality of life was extremely limited, especially in the poverty in which she lived. That is why it came as a shock when I received the message on Sunday.

Since I had returned home the mother became more ill and was less capable of caring for her children. The family stopped the treatment for the mother and also for Nassa. The mother passed away last week and I was notified as I was walking in to write an exam, it crushed me. But the news I received this Sunday crushed me even more.

I am angry, and I am confused. I am angry knowing the family stopped her treatment, but I’m even angrier with myself for leaving; because I know that if I had stayed in Haiti she would have received the treatment. I'm angry with the medical system. I am angry with the government for not doing more for their people. I am angry that there is so much poverty in this world while there are others that indulge in anything that they possibly can. When doctors should have been doing everything in their power to help baby Nassa, they were doing nothing, they gave up hope. I witnessed her case become the joke for hospital gossip, a true interest piece for doctors wishing to discuss the curiosity surrounding why a white woman cared so much about a baby with AIDS. They were disgusted that I wanted to hold her and that I was determined that she would live. And apart from their obvious fascination with this, they simply shuffled their feet and acted as if time was purely suspended above us. I wish there was more sympathy from Haitians for the suffering of their people, and I wish there was a different outcome for that little girl. Because Nassa died on Sunday, November 9th and today...I paid for her funeral- something I had never imagined happening.

Getting that news literally tore my heart to pieces. I loved that baby girl and although she didn’t have much time on this earth, she impacted my life in such profound ways. This is the part of "traveling" that makes it so hard. You stop wanting to learn names, you stop wanting to reach out to those that are suffering, because you know that you may lose them. You know that it will cut deep. And you know that with each loss, you also lose a part of yourself.

Some things happen in life that make us wonder how we will wake up the next day. How will we ever laugh again, or enjoy the company of others, or care for another child or for another person that is suffering, .... or smile. A mother lost her child. A brother lost his sister. A littler girl lost her life, and we may never know why or how it came to this. But when these days fall upon our shoulders, it is important to remember that without heartache we wouldn’t appreciate all the beauty this world has to offer. Haiti has given me the chance to experience life through the eyes of those who suffer, and because of this I now find myself more appreciative, more humble, and more content than I ever did back here in North America.

My heart is at ease knowing she is not suffering, but it’s breaking knowing that she didn’t have the opportunity to fulfill her life. She deserved that chance. Every child does. Even though I am hurting, I feel an urgency in my life to do more, fight on behalf of more, rescue more, love more, and give up more. I'm determined to keep turning my tears into action. I am determined not to turn my head at the suffering. No child should have to die from an illness that is manageable. No child should have to die from malnutrition. There should be access to medical care for those who cannot afford it. My only prayer is that more people stand up and fight for those that are struggling. Fight for those that are voiceless, because they deserve a chance. They deserve to live.

Endings and Beginnings...

As I sit hear strumming my guitar I am accompanied by the echo of a church choir in the distance and Emilio singing to his own tune from his little crib. Tyson is jumping on my bed behind me trying to make a moustache on my face with my hair and laughing hysterically. Shellson and Norens are playing on their new bikes and racing each other around my room. The twins are holding hands and dancing to the music. I can't help but smile as I watch them go about their business. It's these little moments that bring my heart so much joy. It's these little moments that make all of the frustrations and heartache of Haiti worthwhile. It is these little moments that make saying goodbye (once again) so damn hard.

Tomorrow morning I will have to board yet another plane. I will have to convince my feet to take that first step into the terminal and convince my body to remain seated as they shut the airplane door. I keep telling myself "Emily you have to do it!!! Only few more months of school and you will be back in Haiti for good" .. but even that doesn't ease the hurt of knowing that for the next few months, I will have to miss out on these little moments. As I board the plane tomorrow my future will remain waiting for me in Haiti, and I cannot wait for the new year to begin. The anxieties of the past have left my mind, and the worries of what’s to come are nonexistent. This is home.

This week I bought my first car in Haiti (I know, scary thought). And it is the best investment I have ever made. It's like a huge weight has been lifted off of my shoulders. No more relying on anyone else, no more arguing with drivers and negotiating for pay, no more feeling "stuck".. this is FREEDOM !!!! Today as I was driving the kids to my friend Jason's house where we go swimming, I thought to myself... two years ago I could have never imagined I'd be here. I could never imagined us living in a beautiful home, driving around in my OWN car, and taking my babies to the pool. I have never felt more proud and more like a family (especially having the "talk" with my boys today.. help me Lord). We are beginning to become less dysfunctional as each day passes (well.. kind of). Spending this week with my kids there is no doubt in my mind that things will only continue to improve for us. From living in a small house with no furniture, running water, electricity, fridge, stove, working toilet, etc to where we are now .. it is really incredible and I am so grateful for each and every person who has assisted us a long the way. Every time I think of how far we've come tears form in the corners of my eyes. No one will ever understand how truly blessed I feel for the amazing people in my life who believed in me and continue to believe in me today. You have given me the greatest gift I could ever ask for.

Patience and appreciation are two of the greatest lessons I have learned since arriving to Haiti. People wonder how I deal with it, how I cope, and for awhile I struggled with dealing with the stressors and chaos and many times I came the point of nearly being completely burnt out. But I realized that the only way to survive here is to ease your mind. Let go of the stressors and just believe that everything will work out exactly how it is supposed to. Anger and frustration only creates negative feelings and tension and negative feelings only bring about negative actions and events. I have realized that to fully be engrossed in the lifestyle of my existence and the only way to find satisfaction and inner peace is by embracing the here and now. I need to smell the sugar cane and appreciate the rawness of its flavor instead of dreaming about the delicious things it will become. Haitians practice this way of life better than any North American I know, and maybe that’s why they aren’t bothered by apprehension about their next steps. North Americans may have a longer life expectancy, but is a long life worth anything at all when we are living most of it in some hypothetical future?

The past is now behind me, and old baggage has long been tossed out. My book is starting over with chapter one. These past few years have been filled with emotional endings and exciting beginnings that I will take with me into the next phase of my life. Where I stand now is astronomically different from 2010 when I boarded that plane to Ghana and envisioned myself as a volunteer working in orphanages and medical clinics on my spare time. I have now fallen off motorcycles, and cared for dying babies; been peed on by naked children and harassed by strangers. I climbed a mountain and swam behind countless waterfalls. I have made an entirely new family in a bizarre world, and best of all I have found love. I have become a mother. That point may be the most twisted of all, as these things tend to come out of nowhere and under completely blindsided circumstances. But the happiness I feel in this moment might just exceed the happiness I felt when Santa brought me my pink Barbie house as a three year old.

So tomorrow when I am forced to say goodbye to my babies, I will embrace the sadness with a feeling of happiness knowing that I will soon be back for good. It will be another ending of my strange beginning. Time is moving on, my little ones are growing, and good things are happening. That tranquility I've talked about in the past will still be flowing through my veins, and the thought of my return will continue to give me satisfaction. New struggles will begin, new children will arrive, new moments of joy and moments of tears will pass, and I will fully embrace every moment of every day.

Peace and Love from Haiti.



UPDATE: Nassa came to me when she was 11 months old weighing only 7lbs. Today she is smiling and finally able to sit up and use her legs. She has made an incredible recovery and is continuing to stay strong throughout treatments. She's my little fighter. Unfortunately, her mother isn't doing so well. I spent the afternoon sitting with her as she lay on a cold concrete floor covered in flies. It breaks my heart to say that her chance of survival is severely slim and the next few weeks are crucial. She cannot stand and she can barely talk. She has become very weak. I will be transporting her to hospital tomorrow and keeping the faith that she will fight as hard as Nassa and do a complete turn around as well. Thank you to all of those who have sent money for her family. Today we were able to provide them with a months worth of food,clothes, vitamins, toys, and medicine. I couldn't do it without all of you. Starting tomorrow we will also be accumulating more medical bills with her mother, if anyone wishes to contribute to these fees please contact me via Facebook or email emily@himeforhelp.org

Coming and Going..

I'm heading somewhere I want to go, but leaving somewhere I want to stay.

Is it too dramatic to say leaving feels like death? I have to leave once again to return to University and I know that I won’t be back for a couple of months and in those passing months, things and people will change. That's inevitable. My kids will have grown taller. My babies will be talking more. My little girls will have started their first day of school. Emilio will be crawling. And every second lived during my time away is weighted down with the knowledge that I can’t have these moments that I will miss back.

I have left many times in the past and have arrived just as many times. Though it might seem like I should be used to this, adjusted to the countdown and the onslaught of sensory details, both in leaving and in arriving, I’m not. I don’t want to be. This time coming "home" to Haiti meant something different to me. It took courage and every ounce of strength I had left in me. It was reuniting with my children after a quick departure and without a proper goodbye last year. It was about mending open wounds. After being forced to leave my home, my children, and my life in Haiti last year due to some unimaginable security issues… I turned bitter. I hurt every single day. I mourned the loss of a life.. my life. I couldn't think about Haiti. I couldn't talk about Haiti. Because the hurt was too much to bear. My kids would call and I would have to hang up the phone because the sounds of their voices sent the sharpest pain through my heart. I wanted to be back. I wanted to be holding them. But at that moment, I knew I couldn't. So instead, the only thing I could do to "survive" was to try and not think about Haiti. That was an impossible task. The yearning for my children and for my home nearly killed me. Coming back and stepping foot onto the Haitian soil again, I cried. I smelled the air, heard the noises, saw the people, and said to myself "I'm Home". It was in that instant, of stepping off the plane, that I knew that I was back where I belonged. That empty void I had been feeling for months was quickly filled back up. I felt a sense of pride. Yes, I was proud of myself for coming back. For finding the strength. For losing the fear. And then when my gate opened and I saw my kids running towards the vehicle with open arms.. my heart exploded. Holding them again was something I can't even put to words. It was magical. It was as if no time had passed. Our love and trust for each other remained strong even though we had been separated by thousands of miles. We never stopped thinking of each other. We never stopped loving each other. Ever.

I soaked up every minute of these past few months. I didn't want to let them go. We sat around telling stories, playing music, being silly, and just absorbing all of the time we possibly could. We all knew that I would have to leave again come September, but none of us wanted to think about that. For once, I stopped worrying about the future, stopped thinking about leaving, and enjoyed every single minute I had with the children who have stolen my heart and changed my life. I cherished every moment with my friends who have been there for me through some of my most difficult days, who have helped both the children and I, and who understand completely how difficult Haiti can be and how hard it is to have your heart split between two places. Most of these friends I have not known long, but I know our friendships will last a lifetime. I spent time with my neighbours who greeted me by shouting my name as they saw me drive by and running at me for hugs and kisses. They didn't forget me. I realized how beyond blessed I am.

There are some moments in life that are like pivots around which your existence turns- small intuitive flashes, when you know you have done something correct for a change, when you think you are on the right track. I was holding Emilio and watching Tyson sleep a few nights ago, when I realized that my lunatic idea to move to Haiti at the age of 19 was the right one.

People always ask me "Don't you want a life for yourself", "Your only in your twenties, shouldn't you be doing other things?". Every time I heard someone say that I never knew how to answer or how to react. At first I would feel offended but then I would start asking myself the same question. I was always trying to figure out the right way to answer. After thinking about that question for awhile, it suddenly just hit me while I was holding Emilio and watching my other babies sleep. I realized that I never knew how to answer that, and I always felt confused with the the statement "Don't you want a life for yourself"... because... this is MY LIFE. This is the life I chose to live for myself. This is where I want to be. Yes, I am in my twenties, yes most of my friends are out partying and living up the university lifestyle, yes sometimes I wonder what it would be like to spend a day doing what they do and not having to think little a forty year old, but the truth is ... I could not imagine spending my days doing anything else. I am incredibly lucky. I get to watch these beautiful children grow into such incredible little beings full of hope, dreams, and happiness. I get to see their first steps, hear their first words, be there every step of the way. They fill my life with a type of joy and pride that I never knew existed. I am truly happy. What more could I want ?

This trip confirmed something for me that I had been struggling with. I have struggled trying to decide exactly where I should be. I felt guilty being in Haiti and leaving my family and friends in Canada, but then coming to Canada I feel guilty for leaving my children and friends in Haiti. It's a constant war within my own heart. But this time, I sat back on the top of the mountain with the wind blowing and the ocean in view and just stopped thinking. I stopped trying to figure it out. Instead, I felt something. I felt that same familiar tug in my heart that I had felt when I first arrived in Haiti. I took a deep breath in and said "this is home".

I have returned to Canada, but not for long. I am going to be completing this semester of school (until December) here in Ontario, but will be heading back to Haiti in January as my University has offered me enough online classes that I will be able to finish my degree while being with my kids. I am anxious and excited to see what the future holds.

Thank you to all of my friends and family in Haiti & Canada for always welcoming me home. I am so grateful for all of you.

"Family isn't always blood, it's the people in your life who want you in theirs; the ones who accept you for who you are. The ones who would do anything to see you smile and who love you no matter what"- Unknown

Shattered

I have been sitting here in this hard plastic chair for 8 hours now. I have been holding onto a small frail hand that won't let go of my finger. I have fluorescent emergency room lights shinning in my eyes. Tears are beginning to fall. My heart hurts. It's the type of hurt that actually physically aches. I am shattered having to watch this child suffer. I am angry - I am angry that no one has interfered sooner. That bystanders passed on by. And that her own mother gave up hope and only sought help after it almost became too late. I am feeling helpless knowing that the most I can do now is sit here and love this child. Hold her. Pray for her. And hope to God we are given a miracle.

It's hard for me to come home (to my house in Haiti) from the hospital and see my children laughing and playing. I can't help but hug and squeeze them all. I am telling them I love them more than ever (I think they are getting annoyed). But I can't help but think that this could have been one of my children. One of my babies. The unfairness in this world is so hard to understand. What did this beautiful innocent little girl do to deserve to suffer like this? Who decided this fate for her? Why was she born into a society where there is a lack of resources and medical care? Why her? Why not me?

I can't make sense of this. I never will be able to answer these questions. I will never understand why there is suffering like this while people back home are sitting around their dinner tables enjoying a four course meal and occupying their minds with television. All I know is that I have to keep trying to make this right. I have to fight and defend this child. That is my responsibility as a human being. Everyone always asks me why I don't "help the children in my own backyard"... I can assure you that we would NEVER see suffering like this in North America. We would never just walk by a child on the street who is hungry and crying. We would never have to worry about how we would get that child to a hospital or worry about being refused because we do not have enough money. It just would not happen. But here, this happens every day.

It happens to the people I have grown to love and call my friends and family. It happens to the people who have been there for me when I have fallen ill and who have given up their only water supply when I was dehydrated. Who have spent the few dollars that they had earned, working tirelessly and hard, that month to purchase medicine or food for me when I was too ill to do so myself. Who dies because they have literally NO FOOD, NO WATER, NO ACCESS TO MEDICAL CARE?

My friends do. My family does. My fellow human beings.

This hurt I am feeling, this anger bubbling inside of me, this suffering I am witnessing, it only motivates me to keep going. To keep fighting for what I know is right. It is so easy to turn an eye on the suffering here- there is just so much of it. I know I cannot save them all, I know I probably cannot save this little girl, but I have to try. It is the only thing that can ease my heart. Knowing that I did all that I possibly could do. That I didn't turn my head.

Tonight as you sit in front of your computers reading this, please pray for Nassa, and please give thanks to our education systems for giving us the ability to read this, as over 50% of the population here is illiterate. While you take a hot shower tonight, please remember how fortunate you are to have that water. When you open your cold refrigerator door, look at the abundance of food you are fortunate to have. As you kiss your children good night, please realize how lucky you are to be able to provide even one meal a day for your child, to be able to tuck them into a bed, or to be able to rock them to sleep. If you are ill, please be grateful for our healthcare system- although we often like to complain- we are so incredibly blessed to have the healthcare we do. And please if you are able to avoid one trip to the drive thru this week and to donate even $5 or $10 to give children like Nassa hope and provide them with the care that they are in desperate need of please visit our website www.himeforhelp.org and click the donate button at the top of our page. Thank you to all of you who have contributed to Nassa's medical expenses and who have supported our Children's Home. We could not keep doing it without you.

Dear my 19 Year Old Self

Dear my 19 year old self- You, with the big dreams and veins full of adventure. Your getting ready to embark on the greatest journey of your life. Can I have a minute? I know you have laundry to do, emails to answer, and diapers to change, but if I may?

First of all, let me assure you – you make it! Yep, you endure a heck of a lot and you sure know the definition of "struggle".. but you do survive it ALL. More than you can imagine. So you can relax – everything does really come together and you really do get on the plane, and you really do dedicate the rest of your life to a group of children you have yet to meet. Though, you must know, that ‘crazy’ label must be stuck with crazy glue because you will forever have someone somewhere thinking it. But you had that tug in your heart, right?

So before you pack your entire existence into two suitcases, and before go through all the security check points and step foot into the country that will leave you hoarse and would have cost you your sanity had you not already given that up months ago, let me just talk to you and tell you a few things. About yourself. About your life.

You are enough. You will feel like you don’t measure up and that all your efforts are in vain. You will feel the stares of people assessing every detail of your life. You will hear the hurtful comments and feel the sting of rejection, no matter how strong you think you are. You will question yourself and all that you are doing. You’ve got to grab that bottle of crazy glue and stick this truth to your heart of hearts: you are enough.

See beauty. You are going to go through some tough days where anger, frustration, and hurt overtakes you. Take a break. Go for a drive. Look at the beautiful mountains and sea. This will be the "scenery" that will always take you back to sanity. Look at the aged eyes in young children and see hope. Look at the families who hold so tight to each other and see unconditional love. Don’t turn your eyes from the hurting, keep looking until you see yourself in them.

You will never regret the hundreds and thousands of hours and dollars invested in creating a loving home and becoming apart of a new culture.

You will never regret learning to love the land your children know as their home.

You will never regret the efforts to stay tight with your friends. Go to those parties. Take the trips. Celebrate. Be each others biggest fans. Love big, often, and wholly. And don't feel so guilty for taking a night off to indulge with them.

Your greatest regrets will come from times when you backed away from human connection, when you prioritized doing over being, and when you forgot that the world is not so black and white.

Stop trying to please everybody, trying to be all things to all people. At this point, you've got all the tools it takes to trust your instincts, and your instincts are good ones. Realize that no matter what you do, you will always have critics. Keep going.

Learn to be patient, uncomfortable and alone, because, as you've always said, this too shall pass. You need to become familiar with all three of these things if you plan to live away from home and in a foreign country for an extended period of time.

Start focusing a little more on your health. I know you are running around like a chicken with your head cut off but take a break. Relax. Recover. Both for your mental and physical health.

You are going to lose many people dear to your heart in the next three years. You will hurt in ways you never knew you could. You will be angry, confused, and heartbroken. Time will heal the loss and pain of a broken heart, however, some losses, will last a lifetime. The pain diminishes, but the wound never fully heals. Be content with knowing that they are watching over you. Accept and acknowledge the fact that you will meet again.

People will try to discourage you. Don't let them. Believe in yourself. Don't be afraid of not succeeding. Be more afraid of NOT trying and living with regret. If you fall, pick yourself up, and keep moving forward. A few years from now, you'll be saying this to your kids a lot, too.

All of those nights you cry yourself to sleep worrying about the kids and wondering how you will provide food for the next day. Don't. Wipe away those tears. Like always, someone comes through. You have an incredible amount of people who have your back and will not let you fall. Don't be so afraid to ask for help. The children will never starve. Your supporters will not let that happen.

You know all of those future plans you had? Hang on to them. It will bring you laughter after about 2 years into this life that looks like trying to make it out alive while you teeter along on a broken sidewalk, in a never ending earthquake, during a hurricane, while suffering from malaria, typhoid, or cholera.. impossible. Your plans will always be changing. You will learn that you must just "go with the flow".

You are going to get burnt out. You are going to lose any bit of sanity you had left. "Shitty" (that's sugar coating it) events are going to occur that test you to your core. You are going to breakdown. You are going to lose your way. You are going to hit rock bottom. You are going to have to relearn trust and you will have to rebuild your self confidence. But keep holding on. You have a bunch of beautiful babies counting on you to pull through. Go home. Take a break. Regroup. Get your "mojo" back. And then return with pride and fight harder than ever. Let all of those dreams of yours once again flourish. You will come back stronger than ever. You can and you will do it.

Okay, so go wipe snotty noses and change hundreds of dirty diapers. Cherish each and every moment you spend watching your babies grow. Look back and realize how far you have come. Keep laughing and loving through every obstacle thrown your way. Use music as an outlet. It will save your life. And Surround yourself with those that encourage you and lift you up. Now go get on that plane and let the rest of your life begin.

Burning out.. Is it worth it?

We are all warned about culture shock and what to expect when we first arrive on the field. But what about after that first year? What about three years down the road? Or seven? Or ten? What about the frustrations and tears, hurt and stress, internal (or external) cries for ‘home’? What about those days when you will do anything to get.out.of.here?

For most long term humanitarians, I think one of our biggest concerns is getting "burnt out". We all experience it. When you commit to working in developing nations, and when you have a big heart, the country can consume you quickly. It starts to slowly eat away at your social life, your youth, and your bubbly naive self. We come in with such passion and positivism and end up feeling beat down like one of the starving dogs on the street. We are faced with situations on a daily basis that friends and family back home would never even believe, let alone comprehend. And due to that fact we keep a lot of the heartaches to ourselves. We witness horrible things. We are exposed to bitter truths. We get angry and frustrated. The stress forces us to age incredibly. We lose sleep and our health slowly begins to diminish due to exhaustion or being exposed to strange parasites and diseases. Sometimes I wish I had a GoPro Cam attached to me just to show what my daily routine consists of. Most people would need a Xanax just to drive down the streets of Port Au Prince.

So how do you prevent becoming burnt out? You don't. For any long term humanitarian/missionary it is bound to happen eventually. You think "No, not me" or "I'm stronger than that". Stop kidding yourself. You experience it. You go through the hard times. You get stressed. You become bitter. You get depressed. You think about giving up and quitting. You think about how easier life would be if you just return home. You think about how many times you have been cheated or stabbed in the back by the ones you have helped. You get disappointed and let down time and time again. You get tired of asking for funding and support. You wonder if it's worth it anymore. You think you will never make the difference you were hoping to make. You get tired of being lonely or tired of being sick. You are exhausted and you've just had enough. You can't do it anymore.

And then... you pull up your big girl pants. You take a deep breath. And you open your eyes with a whole new perspective. You begin to see beauty where you once saw anger and pain. You embrace that this is your life, you are here for a reason. You are strong. You realize that the malaria, typhoid, Chickungunya, sleepless nights, chaotic days, and all the other obstacles you go through actually are worth it. You have learned hard lessons but they have forced you to do some soul searching. You've found yourself here. They are worth seeing a child that was once so close to death do a complete turn around and become striving and happy. Because you loved them. Because you took that chance. Because you decided not to turn your head. Because you decided to care. It is worth it when you have kids that have been abandoned or abused learn to trust again and you wake up every morning to them yelling "Mom wake up!!!!!". It is worth it watching a rural village learn to show compassion for one another, learn to share, and begin to prosper in ways they never could have imagined. It's the little things that we take for granted when our minds are constantly thinking we have to go, go, go. We never take time for ourselves. We never take time to digest all we have seen or all we have done. We never rest. It always seems to be one catastrophic event after another. There is so much need here. So much that we could be doing. But sometimes we have to sit back and just look around us. Notice those little things that can make you smile and fill up your heart again. Those are the things that will keep you sane. You have to remind yourself that you are human, you are allowed to grieve, you are allowed to hurt, and its okay to cry. Sometimes you have to literally force yourself to let go of the stressors. To take each moment as it is. I find that when I go out onto the streets my face changes completely. I scrunch it up and have this horribly angry look as if I'm ready for a fight. I know that I do this because I have come accustomed to having to barter or protect myself on the street. But sometimes, like when I'm driving through the mountains or along the ocean's shore, I actually have to force myself to relax and to smile.

After returning home for this past year and taking a "break". I began to realize how truly burnt out I was. I was angry and constantly stressed and worrying about the future. I had forced myself to become "hard". I stopped feeling the effects of trauma or dealing with what I had been exposed too. I became somewhat numb to things that would normally break my heart. And although some may think this is a good thing. It is not. I have learned that it is much easier to harden yourself then to endure. But it is necessary for healing purposes to go through the motions. To feel the pain, anger, and frustrations. I think way too many people here have become "hard" just like me. And it is difficult to undo that. Since returning to Haiti that is the one main thing I am working on each day. To become soft again. To love and trust again. To remind myself it's okay to look into the eyes of those on the streets, its okay to feel the hurt, its okay to want to help them and to cry because I can't.

In a month from now I will be once again boarding a plane home. My heart will once again break into a million little pieces. As I sit here staring at my University course schedule I feel terribly sad and guilty. I will have to kiss my 14 little ones goodbye. I will have to spend each and every minute away from them worrying about what they are doing, if they have eaten that day, if they are healthy, and if they are being told that they are beautiful and loved. Right now I don't even want to think about leaving. The thought hurts way too much. But this will also have to be something I will have to endure. However, we all know that I will be back soon enough.