cross-posted from the "Pneumas in Haiti" blog

Haiti gets into you.

It gets under your skin and up your nose and all over your feet.

It pours over your head like a cold shower and drips out of your pores.

It slams your vision with images of people - faces you may or may not remember, but in places you will never forget: thronging an open market, picking through a garbage heap, lying alone in a crib reaching up to be held.

It won't be silent, filling your ears with beeping horns, crowing roosters and enthusiastic music at all hours of the day and night.

As it jostles you down rutted roads, it jolts your expectations with startling contrasts: tin-roofed concrete block houses surrounded by lush mango trees, a beautiful home that lacks running water, families bathing and washing clothes in a muddy river minutes away from a clear blue ocean.

And, somehow, while you are distracted by all of its sights, sounds, and smells, Haiti creeps and seeps into your soul. Compassion for its people wraps around your heart and squeezes until you weep for the overwhelming multitude of needs. Who can fix it? No amount of money seems sufficient to satisfy all the starving children, build the necessary infrastructure, and educate millions of illiterates. You begin to understand the mindset of people who live only for today because there is no hope for tomorrow.

But there are bright beacons of hope shining with the love of Jesus all through Haiti. No one can fix everything, but each can help some. Offering hope to a handful of people at a time, they follow God's call to bring up a generation with hope beyond today or tomorrow ... hope into eternity.

Pray for these people who are committing their lives to serve the Lord in Haiti.

And pray for Kris, Andy, Linette, Rebecca, Shane, Michael and me as we seek how God wants to use us in and for Haiti's people. We can wash off our bodies, but we can never rinse Haiti's hold out of our hearts.