How a hurricane in Haiti breaks our hearts

I grew up in southeast Alabama. My hometown of Dothan was close enough to the coast to make day trips to 30A and Panama City, meaning we experienced some of the realities of hurricane season. I have vivid memories of Opal, Ivan, Earl, and Dennis, and my grandparents told legendary stories of Andrew. I was in 3rd grade when Opal brought a tornado to my school, which is one of my scariest childhood memories.

For the most part, I remember hurricane season to be a combination of glorified camping and high anxiety. Each time a mega storm came our way, we loaded up at the store, making sure we had batteries, non-perishables, board games, and gasoline. Then, we waited. The beginnings of hurricanes were always pretty fun, eating junk food and watching movies with neighbor friends. But when the wind would start to whistle, and the rain got so heavy you couldn’t see across the street, things got real. Occasionally, we would take shelter in a closet or bathroom, where I would enter into a tearful panic (big time weather anxiety here). When it was over, we’d survey the damage and whine about having to go back to school when the power comes back on.

Tuesday morning, the eye of Hurricane Matthew hovered over the southwestern tip of Haiti. At HPUMC, many of us have been glued to the storm tracker, hoping and praying that our dear friends would be spared more devastation from this megastorm. Most of the day, you couldn’t see Port-au-Prince (where most of our friends live) or Petit-Goave (where the clinic is), because of the dark red radar screen. The forecast has been grim, and the island is predicted to experience severe flooding in the coming days.

My friends in Haiti are smart, generous, hardworking, and faithful. Many of them have committed their lives to serving their churches or communities, and all of them faced incredible devastation when the earthquake hit in 2010. It’s hard to imagine what a disaster like this could do to the country and its people who have already experienced tremendous loss.

This morning, I thought about what it might be like for my friends in Haiti to prep for a hurricane. Getting anywhere in PAP takes hours, there is no Walmart, very few safe shelters, and already unreliable power. My heart sank as I considered some of my friends whose homes are still covered by tarps instead of roofs. I wondered where they might get clean water in the next few days. A storm like this could wipe out the tourism and agriculture industries, the lifeblood of the majority of Haitians I know.

It’s easy to turn away from overwhelming problems, especially when they’re in places like Haiti. It’s a faraway place with a lot of suffering. But when I think of Haiti, I don’t think of problems. I think of Angee and Nydia, Maureen and Vernald, Jean-Claude and Ricardo, Jean and Gilliane. I think of friends…friends who could be facing incredible grief and fear today and tomorrow. And when I think of my friends suffering, with no way for me to feasibly help them, I do the only thing I know to do: pray.

So will you join me? Here are three specific things you can be praying for our dear friends in Haiti:

1. That the storm would move fast and break up soon.
2. That the waters would subside quickly so healing can begin.
3. That our friends in Haiti would experience supernatural peace and comfort in the face of fear and pain, and they would know that it comes from God.