This is the day I hoist a borrowed backpack over my shoulders and board a plane to Haiti. October 8 seemed so far away until last Thursday when I went to Scheels and bought a pair of Keens for the journey. I swiped my debit card and held it together until I got home and then I couldn’t stop the tears. I had to call my husband, and he was home with me before I knew it. (Love that man.)
I’d be lying if I told you I have all the right reasons for going to Haiti. I’ve watched people go on these blogging/missions trips before. I’ve read about the teams and, of course, I’ve done the sweep and wondered why no one on the team looked like me.
I’ve asked all the questions that make missionaries cringe. I’ve passed judgement on the ones who wear the backpacks and organize the trips. And I asked God to help me see the truth about it all. I guess He thought it would be best for me to see it for myself. (You saw that one coming, didn’t you?)
So I’m off. Me and my brown skin. With an amazing team of grace-filled people who don’t look like me. Into one of the poorest places, where everyone looks like me. I’d be grateful for your prayers. And I’d be humbled if you’d stick around, even knowing I have this judgmental, petty, embarrassing side to me.