One question I’ve been asked several times (thanks to the re-entry letter sent out by our missions coordinator) is, “What is the ONE thing in Haiti that impacted you the most?”

At first, I struggled to come up with an adequate answer. To narrow it down to only one thing felt impossible. There were so many stories! But I began to notice a common thread running through all my favorite stories. Prayer.

We prayed in Haiti, in a way that we’ve never prayed here. We prayed for everything, about everything, over everything. And we saw our prayers answered – repeatedly, immediately, consistently.

Our prayer journey began a few weeks before we left, as team members began to struggle against attack. The enemy was hard at work trying to discourage us from stepping out in obedience, and failing that he was happy to distract us from our true purpose. Our team began praying together with the expectation that God would answer. After all, we were heading out into the world at His calling, so there were no doubts that He would give us victory over our struggles.

I can’t speak for everyone on the team, but for Pat and I, as well as a few others that we heard from, those last couple weeks before we departed were a time of inexplicable calm and peace in our lives. Which, considering that the last weekend of January is the culmination of a year’s worth of efforts at my work (requiring a good month’s worth of fuller-than-full-time, focused work), is quite amazing. Co-workers and friends would ask me if I was having crazy, restless dreams about Break Forth and Haiti and I would reply – honestly – that I was experiencing the most restful sleeps of my life for the entire month of January!

Next came the bins of supplies. Fourteen bins, needing to weigh less than 50 lbs each, with enough supplies donated and purchased to fill twenty. So we  told God that they were His supplies, and He needed to make them fit. He did.

We stored the bins in the garage of someone’s home until our departure. Unfortunately, we forgot the keys  to that house. And the homeowners were away on the night/early morning of our flight. And their house was alarmed. So we reminded God that they were His supplies and that He needed to help us access them. He did. Of course, when you’re attempting a break-in at 3am – the exact hour you’re supposed to be gathering with the team – it can be a little stressful (especially for those of us who like to be on time). So we reminded God that we needed to arrive at the airport on time. We did.

Those supplies must have been very important, because some of them were inspected in Calgary, some in Miami, and more at the Port-au-Prince airport. There was one bin containing medical supplies, including syringes and morphine (things that Customs doesn’t take well to being brought across borders). Thirteen of our fourteen bins were opened and searched. When Customs officials put their hands on the last bin, we prayed. They left it sealed and stacked it on our pile.

We brought with us about a dozen bright, green soccer balls. Our hope was to get out in the community, play, and then give away some of those balls. We were cautioned that doing so could be unsafe – that we could be overrun by desperate children, teens, and parents…that small children could get hurt in the process…that turning people away would break our hearts. Our team was confident, though, that God wanted us to give those balls away. So we prayed, we played, and we gave. No mobbing occurred, apart from what is typical (the “Pied Piper” effect). No one was injured. No one was turned away in tears. And one boy, tears leaking down his cheeks, thanked us, “Today, you blessed my life.”

Our team held a rice distribution on the campus, serving the families of the local church. The leftover rice pile was massive! We were brought to a nearby community – what could be called a slum, with huts, houses, shacks, tents, and lean-tos pressed tight together, streets littered with trash, and children barely clothed – and told we would take the rice door to door. When our truck filled with rice pulled up, fear set in. Dozens of Haitians approached from all sides… We prayed. They stood back, many returning to their homes. And we delivered our packages down alleyways and laneways, through tin gates and doors that were merely curtains. Safely. Successfully. Beautifully.

The stories don’t end. God provided goats and families to give them to. He provided the exact school supplies that the school was in need of. He gave us joy during moments of frustration. He provided healing for a workman whose leg was surely broken, except that it wasn’t. He gave a spirit of reconciliation in moments of disagreement. He provided safe travels, preventing the tire blowout until after we were safely delivered to the airport.

We asked. He answered. For anything and everything. In ways I’ve not seen here at home.

I wonder if it’s simply that I don’t pray with utter confidence and expectation. I wonder if it’s because I don’t ask for help in the little things as well as the big. I wonder if I’d see just as many miracles here in Canada…if only I’d ask.

Here are some photos from the rice distributions…