Wish you were here. Seriously.

Well.

Lily summarized it all pretty well when we got to the car in Haiti.

"That wasn't very much fun.  But now it will be fun!  I'm so glad to be home! Except we have no suitcases, and your toe is still bleeding."

Yep, Lily.  Yep.

We have tried it all--driven to Florida, spent the night, flown MFI at 6 am...flow to Florida, rented a car, gotten a hotel, flown MFI at 6 am...flown to Florida, flown Lynx now IBC to Cap-Haitien....flown to Florida, then flown to Port-au-Prince, then flown to Cap-Haitian...and as we did today, flown to Atlanta, then Atlanta to Port-au-Prince, then a taxi to the other airport, then flew to Cap-Haitian--and I just got one thing to say.

There ain't NO good way to go to Haiti.  

I'm not saying you won't one in every 10 times you attempt it have one GOOD, uneventful experience.  But  your odds of that seem, in our case, to be one in ten.

To summarize the highlights...

Leave Columbus checking 5 bags, only costing $40 total, weighing in at 250 lbs total.  Two-fifty sound  like a lot?  We're talking 10 months worth of shampoo, homeschooling supplies for Lily, all of Matt's books, some clothes and shoes, laptops, books for the girls, and as many pairs of shoes for the students, wheat flour, olive oil and cooking helps as possible.  It adds up quick.  And if it's in those bags, it's necessity stuff, because every pound counts.

Columbus to Atlanta, no problem.  Atlanta, 1 hour to departure upon landing.  Farthest away gate as the airport could allow.  We run all our insanely heavy carry ons and toddlers to the Port-au-Prince gate.  No problem.  Flight, no big problems, except that due to a long-delayed clearance for landing, we land 30 minutes late.  We have 90 minutes to clear immigration, customs, baggage claim, take a taxi to the other airport, get checked in there, and you're "supposed" to be there 60 minutes before take off or they will re-sell your seats.

The line for customs, HUGE.  Completely out of the blue, a customs official directs us to a newly opening line with only three people in front of us (like, verses 25-30) and then one of those people let us in front of him when he learns we have to catch a flight.  We miraculously get through that INSANELY chaotic and crowded room, only to get to baggage claim, and wait, wait, wait.

No bags.  Everyone else on our flight is coming, getting their bags, leaving.  No bags, we don't know what to do, 'cause you can't just overnight at Best Western, and the girls, understandably, with no breakfast, no lunch, and no naps, are starting to REALLY melt down.  Should we split up and one of us stay overnight in Port while the other tries to get the girls home?  Is it already too late to catch our next flight (the last flight of the day?)  Where are our bags?

We wait, 10 minutes more, just totally unsure of what to do, and suddenly, four of our five bags appear on the belt.

Four bags.  We wait, 10 minutes more for number five, and we ARE GOING TO MISS OUR FLIGHT.

DARN IT.

We leave our one bag in an airport that it is bound to get stolen in (or already did) (bag: Matt's running shoes, Matt's dress shoes, 10 lbs. of whole wheat flour, 6 lbs of dish soap and 5 lbs. of antibacterial hand soap, Lily's homeschool books, 1 liter of olive oil) and after seeing a MOUNTAIN of people and bags at the duane (customs) we basically find and pay a dear man to get us through that mess, to a taxi, 5 miles down the road and ONTO that next flight.

He, bless his heart, was a champion and did miraculous things with getting us through, into a taxi, literally stopping traffic by standing in the middle of it, and suddenly, we're in Haiti.  It's hot! It's CRAZY!  It's chaos.  Lily is grinning from ear to ear while sweat drips down her little face, and it was the factor that redeemed the moment.

till >BAM<.

Trying too hard to get us to the next airport, taxi dude slams us into the car in front of us.  That guy gets out, he's not happy.  Our flight is practically LEAVING.  Where are we going to stay overnight in Port-au-Prince?  Do we have to pay for that guys car damage?  Where is our fifth bag?  Will we ever see it again?

At that point, I realize my big toe is caked in blood and Haiti, and that somewhere in the frantic search and grab, a suitcase or cart or something ripped half of my nail off.

We miraculously get to the small, steaming airport, and run in, begging for mercy, only to be told that while they have reservations for four with our names for today at 4, and a receipt in their books showing we PAID for those four tickets, because WE didn't have that receipt on us from last May, if we want to fulfill our reservation and fly to Cap-Haitian on OUR four seats, we must pay for them.  AGAIN.

All four of us are melting down at this point, Matt pays the stinking tickets AGAIN (infuriated wife), they agree to get us on the plane though we are incredibly late, and we pack onto the tiny, non-airconditioned flight to Cap-Haitian, flown by pilots who only speak Spanish.

The girls, despite exhaustion, hunger and the stifling heat, do not sleep, and 30 minutes later, we land and spot Abel.

Quick interjectory praise-the-Lord for Abel.  If there is ONE THING that has been consistent ALL these crazy trips to and from Haiti, it's that ABEL WILL BE THERE.  I think he sleeps at the airport the day he knows we're coming.  I could have kissed him.

Actually, I think I DID kiss him.

He loads us in the car, and Matt and he go back in to get our bags.

No bags.

We wait 60 minutes in the car, no bags.

They are coming on a later flight, even though we were told our flight was the last flight.  Abel will stay, and wait some more, and bring us the bags.  We head home, change money, buy a few groceries, talk about how, despite everything, it is so good to be home.

We walk in the house.  The sun room and the hall are flooded and muddy, soupy ceiling tiles dripping overhead.  The kitchen is SO foul of dead rat you almost can't stand it, and if you've never smelled decomposing rat...I don't even know how to describe it, except it burns.

And rats have taken over my kitchen.  All the thick plastic tupperwear containers I had had rice, powdered milk, and sugar in, chewed to pieces.  Rat droppings and chewed up plastic, everywhere.  Stuffing from the insulation in my oven, scattered throughout my cabinets for nests.  Even my so-expensive-and-hard-to-get Crisco!  THEY ATE THROUGH THE FOIL CARDBOARD CRISCO container.  To eat CRISCO!

This not only means our food for the next days is gone, but much more preciously, my containers, all precious carried in cargo over the years, are finished.  And I didn't bring any more.  Not that it matters, having no suitcases.

Another big praise-the-Lord was that the Aberle's were home next door and making us dinner!  THAT was fabulous, and such a blessing for all four of us! SUCH.

Another big praise-the-Lord, Gertha and Micheline were obviously here just a few days ago, and despite so much nastiness from the rats, I can see they spent a lot of time cleaning!  I will kiss THEM tomorrow.

Another praise-the-Lord, because we weren't the first residents back this summer, Sam's already got the kinks in power and internet worked through.  Usually our first weeks are plagued by electricity and internet and water issues.  THANK YOU.

Another big praise-the-Lord, the girls are thrilled out of their minds to be here.  Just giddy.  They don't see the mud and puddles and rats.  Just friends and old-new toys and their beloved dogs.

Half-way through dinner, a lone Abel shows up.  Another flight did come, but it had no suitcases.  Only a dead body.  Whole flight, whole plane, a dead body.  No bags, no more flights, thanks-all-the-same Abel.

We are home.

Every blessed, safe, empty-handed, grateful, frustrated, overwhelmed, exhausted, sweaty, hopeful bit of it.