The heartbreaking events of the past few weeks have put Haiti in the forefront of our minds. I have written many times about our Haitian friends and the adventures we have when they come to the U.S., but I’ve never shared much about my experiences in their country.

It has been 11 years since I set foot on Haitian soil. I was nearly 30, and had never been anywhere significant, let alone another country. Hubby encouraged me to go on the mission trip, offering to take his vacation time to stay home with the kids. Those 10 days in a poverty-stricken nation, with no means of communicating with my family, entirely changed my view of the world and my place in it.

I was not prepared for the culture shock, the sights, sounds and smells that filled my senses immediately upon stepping outside the Port au Prince airport. Every part of my heart and mind was overwhelmed. We see pictures, watch news clips and hear stories, but cannot truly fathom the stark reality until seeing it firsthand.

It took 14 hours by bus to travel the 160 miles to the north coast town of St. Louis du Nord. The sights we saw along the way broke my heart, but also caused me to withdraw inside myself in a way that was completely unlike my personality. Tiny children with bloated bellies, mothers with no milk desperately nursing hungry babies and diseased people simply existing along the roadside, caused my mind to reel with sheer hopelessness. What could one person possibly do to help? How could I put even a tiny dent in the suffering?

We finally made it to the mission compound. I set up my tent and fell asleep without joining the rest of the group for dinner. Eating was the last thing on my mind.

The following morning we walked through town and hiked up the mountainside to attend church. Along the way a mother brought her sick baby to us. We weren’t a medical team, so all we could offer was to lay our hands on the sweet baby and pray. I prayed harder than I’d ever prayed in my life. Why was I so fortunate to live in a place where I could take my babies for quality medical care at a moment’s notice? This mother didn’t love her baby any less than I loved mine, and I completely understood why she was grasping at anything that might help even a little bit.

I am somewhat hesitant to share the next part, but I think it’s important to know that sometimes when we set out to save the world it turns out we are the ones that need saving. Over the next two days I found myself retreating to my tent and avoiding the Haitian people. I developed my first and only case of hives, and my hair began to fall out in clumps. I was heavily oppressed with a spirit of fear and sadness.

I did not want to be useless for the task that I had set out to accomplish, so in desperation I asked the team to pray for me. Pray they did! And this is the part that some of you will find hard to believe. My hives disappeared immediately, and not a single hair fell from my head for the remainder of the trip. The burden of paralyzing fear rolled from my back and I was finally ready to press forward.

Part of our agenda included evening ministry at the park in the center of town. I had begged off the night before, but now I was ready to go. The thing about Haiti is that there are no street lights and very little electricity. When nighttime settles, it is simply and utterly dark. As I made my way along the street, I felt a small hand grasp mine. I leaned down and peered into the face of a tiny little boy. He led me through the streets to the park, carefully guiding me so that I never stepped in a puddle or fell into the sewage trench alongside the road. When we reached our destination I leaned down to hug him and felt every rib in his body. I had nothing to offer him, but my hug was rewarded with the most brilliant smile I had ever seen.

After that I began to notice something about the Haitian people that before I had been too overwhelmed to see. They were joyful! Everywhere I looked there were huge smiles and laughter. During the remainder of the trip I found myself laughing with them. Many times they were laughing at me, but that’s OK. During the baptismal service at the beach, I put on quite a show when I was attacked by an angry chicken.

And the night I tripped and slid headlong towards the sewage trench with my skirt over my head and my flashlight illuminating my white big mama underwear, 50 Haitian hands reached out to help me, every one of them attached to a beautiful face with a huge, laughing grin.

I saw a mother cheerfully tossing a newly received ball with her children. And I saw a little girl who had just been given a set of clothes, run excitedly to her sister and quickly divvy things up.

I was amazed at the snow white clothing that appeared when it was time for church, and I was touched by the joyful expressions of praise during the worship service.

That trip was the beginning of an incredible friendship that has lasted through the years, and that caused me to wait with baited breath and anguished heart when the earthquake hit. It took two agonizing days to find out my friend and her children were safe.

The images coming across the television screen are horrifying. If you can give, please give. If you can go, by all means go! I know that while our time and money can help with the physical needs, it cannot erase their heartache. But I have no doubt that they will find joy again. The Haitian picture I choose to carry in my heart is of a tiny little boy who had nothing, offering his helping hand to others, and beaming a precious smile that I pray he is still smiling today.