"Everything Was Different" by Madison P.

There were faces that had been beaten, hands that had undergone much work on the family farm, and children sitting on dirty streets; all staring straight at us. Everything was different.

I didn’t know exactly what to expect or what I had even gotten myself into. All I knew was that I was with my mom and sister and a team of people all with the same pit of nervousness in our stomach, but with the same goal. To build six playgrounds for kids to enjoy in six different areas, to let them know they are loved and worthy, and to bring hope. Filling the first two days we stepped foot on those grassy yet polluted hills, was worry and disbelief that the things set out before us were quite impossible.

Our home for the next eight days would be on the left side of a rocky dirt path with a turquoise rod-iron gate that had to be manually opened and closed. The house, more so called a “compound” in their country, contained a kitchen with one small table in the center and no chairs, three bedrooms with bunk beds in them, some beds cushioned only by a piece of wood and others a thin mattress that a pea could be felt through. These were my conditions for the next eight days, although they were few I was expectant for the greatness I would still experience during my stay.

The early morning was filled with tired eyes, but hungry stomachs and a kitchen filled with shy but smiling woman eager to make us a meal that we would enjoy. After the meal was consumed we set out in an old school bus, driven by a man with the largest heart, that we got to know as the week went on, to a lot the size of a 12x12 room. It was filled with jumbled playground pieces. We started rummaging through the pieces gathering the metals rods and swings to transport them to the six different areas of work to bring kids utter happiness.

The days went on, and though it got easier, the trust that things were going to be possible diminished. My team of fifteen people stood on rocky, uneven ground and this was where we were supposed to build hope for kids when we ourselves lacked all of it. We picked up shovels to even out the ground, yet stopped soon after the reality hit that this was going to take longer to even out the ground then we would have in this country. We dropped to our knees and did the only thing we knew we could in this moment, prayed. Prayed that the only person who could do the impossible would do it. Just as the words “Amen” left our lips, a bulldozer came down a hill and told us, “Go back to your compound for some lunch and when you come back this will be done”. That moment was not a coincidence in any way but a raw miracle.

After the foundation was established the playgrounds began sprouting up like new bulbs planted in rich soil. Kids stood staring in amazement and their eyes filled with joy that they were going to be able to play on this structure. The last day there, my team stood on solid ground of a brand new playground ready to dedicate it to this little community that would get to experience laughs and good memories on it for years to come. Tears filled the eyes of everyone as the ribbon was cut and glasses clanged together at the hope that was built.

Back home in the states the conditions of how I lived in my own home became a blessing, I had continual water supply that I didn’t have to pump from a well. I had a thick mattress to sleep on and air conditioner for 107 degree weather. The miracles I had witnessed in eight days continued to surpass my wildest imaginations and I thanked God for the opportunity to spend eight days in a Porta Prince, Haiti. My way of thinking was different, my way of living, my way of hoping, trusting, and believing. Everything was different.