Haiti, here I come!

A 620 am flight out of Sydney begins a week long journey to a small community called Deschapelles, two and a half hours north of Port au Prince, Haiti, to an orphanage called HATS-Hands Across the Sea. There are 16 children living full time at HATS, and these children, I've been told, have a variety of stories that would tug at your heart strings. I've never made a trip like this before, and, as a mother, this is the part that makes me most anxious--how do you become so immersed in a child's life for a week, only to bid them farewell in 7 short days, without leaving a piece of your heart behind? I suspect this will be a week like no other, and with wheels up, I'm off to the first stop on the journey--Toronto.

After an hour of winding my way through the customs' line, I met up with one of the ladies who travels to HATS every year, Beate, a school teacher in Ontario. It's like we are old friends by the time we land in Miami, check in to our hotel amongst the palm trees, then meet up with the other two women ( a mother/daughter team from Calgary), only to rest our heads for less than 12 hours.

Stepping out into the muggy Miami morning at 4:15 and boarding the airport shuttle, we cross our collective fingers that all our bags will make the journey with us. The four of us are loaded down with a variety of 'gifts,' including Beate's lightbulbs, crocs, clothes, and cheese, to Laree's and Ronelle's 3 sewing machines and abundance of children's clothes, and my 75 toothbrushes/toothpastes, shoes, t shirts, medicines, and of course, bottles of bubbles, just to name a few things! 

I am a little nervous, and excited all at the same time. I have traveled to poorer countries before, but never actually lived in their reality. Many of us have taken vacations to the Dominican Republic, or Cuba, or other warm tropical places, and we are in shock and awe when we take a tour through the local neighbourhoods, seeing how people really live--far from the lush accommodations provided to the tourists.  At least that's the way it was for me-- seeing the local realities were fleeting moments, maybe captured on film, shared when I got home, then 'put away' in the back of my brain as I returned to my 'normal.' This time, however, I don't think I will be able to put these pictures away...

The flight to Port Au Prince is supposed to be just about 2 hours. Without an empty seat on the Boeing 767, and the sun beaming through the clouds, the adventure begins...Haiti, here I come! 

Through Betty's window

     Many times throughout the seasons we look out our windows and complain about what we see--the rain, the winter winds and blowing snow--those parts of Mother Nature that can dampen our moods, and even make us a little bit cranky! But that's not how Betty sees things through her windows.
    Betty, my mother-in-law, has been fighting ovarian cancer for a little more than 8 years. She has entered that stage of her fight where she is slowly slipping away from those of us who love, admire, and respect her. But as she fights her way through each day, I am truly blessed to be able to share her company, along with the rest of her family and friends.
     For the last month or so, all Betty has known of the outside world is what she has seen through her windows. Sitting beside her on the green couch in the back room of the house, she would often say, "This is my world now, the view through this window." And she would sit in her warm pink housecoat and comment on how beautiful that view was.
     At first glance, most of us might find the view through Betty's window quite ordinary and uninteresting, but for Betty, the changing colors of the leaves on the trees, and just seeing 'life' happen outside her windows was a little part of what gave her the desire to keep going every day. Looking out her back window into the yard, she would say how beautiful the grass looked, and then she would crank open the window, just enough to hear the boys when they were playing in her backyard, or sitting in the hot tub. You see, she and the boys had a little "system" for the times they were in the hot tub--she would crank open the window and ring a little bell. Then, like Pavlov's dogs, the boys would holler in unison, "Hi Grandma!" And then she would smile and raise her hand to the window to wave. She loved hearing their giggles or seeing them kick the soccer ball. In her words, the view was "like paradise."

       Betty is a woman loved and respected by all those who know her best. She is a woman of many layers and titles--mother of four, sister of 8, "grandma" to 11, great-grandma (a.k.a. "G.G.") to 2, loyal friend to many, and a retired nurse respected by all those she worked with, and those she worked for.  Betty was a gift to the nursing profession, and to this day, people who worked with her still speak of her with respect and admiration. She established a reputation as a kind, dedicated, firm, but fair, hard working nurse. And Betty has the strength, determination, and courage that has carried her through the ups and downs of cancer treatments with a positive outlook, an independent spirit, and never a complaint, even in her most difficult days. She always told me, "Girl, you have to be able to paddle your own canoe!" And Betty always followed her own advice!

        I have learned a lot looking through Betty's windows these past few weeks. As I sit among the family, I think of the loving and funny moments Betty has brought to all of us. So, rain or wind, and snow soon to come, it really doesn't matter what happens on the outside of the windows. For me, being to able to share that view through Betty's windows has been a priceless gift that I will always treasure. I have realized that we need to appreciate all parts of the view through our own windows. When we look out, we may not like what we see all the time, but we can still appreciate the view, because what's most important, are the people on the inside looking out, and the view is different for everyone. So in honor of Betty, take time to sit down, relax, and enjoy the view through your window.