Back in the States

Sunday was the most surreal day of my life. Angelo convinced me that it was in the girls’ best interest that I leave. An American presence could draw unwanted attention if the security situation worsened. The members of the work team and I went to the airport on the morning of the 17th. We were planning on getting information and possibly locating missionary pilots who could fly us out.

We walked out on the tarmac and it looked like a warzone. Blackhawks were taking off. Planes from almost every country were offloading supplies. Soldiers were marching. An unusual feeling crept over me. I was staring at history.

We searched for the missionary pilots, but could not find them. I was about to have everyone return to the orphanage. But out of nowhere a man approached us. He asked us who we were and asked if we needed a plane. It seems a millionaire was allowing his private plane to be used for humanitarian aid. The plane had just dropped off a surgical team from the University of Miami and they didn’t want to return empty. We decided to go for it.

When I entered the plane I was stuck dumb. It was something out of the “lifestyles of the rich and famous.” None of us could believe what we were seeing. As we were waiting to load a few more passengers, Geraldo Rivera pops in. He said, “Flying first class, huh? It’s a reward for serving the Lord.” Then he was gone. We later looked up the name of the man who owns the plane and discovered he is a former drug lord.

An hour and 35 minutes later we landed in Fort Lauderdale. We hopped a cab with a Haitian driver and hurried to Miami International where Carl had arranged a flight to St. Louis.

I was out of Haiti, but my heart remained.