Hey everybody,
Our first weekend in Haiti could best be described as Bryan Smith, our group leader, put it: a fulfilling sorrow. The first few hours after stepping off the bus reminded us of how truly human we are and, in spite of our extremely fortunate position as U.S. citizens, how vulnerable we are to every single one of the emotions, the frailties, and the weaknesses we see manifest in the people (many of them children) around us.

Above, Carolyn Smith, a mother of three, holds an infant at an orphanage in Port-au-Prince and is overcome by the same emotions that are running through all of us. This particular orphanage is run by Dorothy, a former real estate agent from Florida who had a life-changing experience on September 11, 2001 and subsequently dedicated her life to God's calling. She rented the house above 6 years ago and has taken it upon herself to provide care for abandoned infants & children. Dorothy currently houses 18 orphans, 4 of whom are HIV positive. These children fortunately get all their medicines, lab testing, and care through the WHO (World Health Organization), although the remainder of her supplies are provided entirely through charitable donations.

In spite of the remarkable devastation in Port-au-Prince, the majority of people we met have found reason to be thankful. A surprisingly large portion of the population is Christian, as evidenced by the approximately four dozen people who showed up for the two church services at the Baptist Church of Solidarity (our home base). The fact that the majority of the area's inhabitants are currently living in tents (because they are afraid to re-enter their homes) did not deter them from putting on their Sunday best and looking, I daresay, a heck of a lot more presentable than I did in my 3-day-old shirt.

Here, our group leader, Bryan Smith, interprets for a patient and explains to me what 'Bon jou' means. Much of our day has been spent providing open clinics for the local residents and trying to address whatever needs they may have with our limited number of medical supplies. At the end of our clinic, Bryan explains to me how to say "I like croissants."

This 8-month old girl presented to our clinic (a makeshift stand on the front steps of an abandoned building) with burns suffered during the earthquake. The camp she was staying in was filled with patients who had not yet received any medical care in spite of the passage of 2 weeks since the quake; many of them inundated our clinic once they heard that medical help was available.

In spite of the long wait for many of them, and the fact that many of them had health concerns that were beyond our capabilities, I never saw a single person complain. Above everything that weighed heavy on their minds, nearly every one of them had a smile for us. Coming from someone who has always been introverted, immersing myself in the sea of humanity here in Port-au-Prince has been the most "fulfilling sorrow" I have ever experienced. God bless you all for reading.

Sincerely,

Todd Isaacson