Rachel Zimmerman

This week I’ve gotten to spend probably 1-2 hours in the late afternoon laying in the hammock or sitting on the porch. I think this is the way life was back in the day, sitting on the porch and visiting with neighbors. What has happened to this? Let me tell you, it’s awesome. My day does not feel complete if I do not watch the sunset. Every day it’s beautiful, breath-taking, and completely different. Every day God paints a picture in the sky and beckons us to stop, to still ourselves, and appreciate the show He is putting on for us. Same with the thunderstorms around here. They are magnificent displays of God’s power and majesty. I can just see him waving his hand and a huge lightning bolt darts across the sky followed by a thunderclap. One thing I noticed while watching a thunderstorm is the lightning is so bright that I have to close my eyes as a result. How magnificent. How wonderful and powerful. Awe. In the states I remember appreciating a sunset but usually from my car dri

When I'm in America this is the word I often feel: distracted. People ask me about the differences between Haiti and the US. It's hard to sum up in a few sentences. Because Haiti is so tragically impoverished and broken. And yet, they are not nearly as distracted as we are. I think America is impoverished (in spirit) and broken, just in different ways. We're distracted by our phones, by our cars, by our Sonic & Starbucks, entertainment, shopping, schedule and to-do list and the chasing of all the things our society tells us we should seek and acquire. In Haiti the distractions are taken away. The hustle and bustle is taken away. The internet is slow. I don't leave the compound on a daily basis. The electricity turns off and there's not much to do. I'm forced (and I've learned to embrace) sitting and resting and looking at the mountains over Port au Prince. (I actually get very disappointed now if I don't stop and watch the sunset each evening).

Everyone in a foreign country needs a Duckenson. Duckenson has been my 'right hand man' since day 1. I don't know if 'right-hand man' is the right phrase. Duckenson is a friend, a deeply committed friend, and my Haitian brother. Duckenson has been with me since the beginning. Since I didn't know a lick of Kreyol. When I knew painfully little about missions. When I didn't know how to help without hurting. When I didn't know how to communicate or cultural norms (that's still a struggle). Duckenson drove me around Haiti for the first 6 months I was here. Duckenson has lived through me asking someone 'Do you have to poop?' instead of 'Do you have a bathroom?' -- yes that was just a few days ago... : / Duckenson has been around for tears, anger, loneliness, pain, and oh the frustration. I don't know what expats/humanitarians/missionaries do without the Duckenson's and Charly's of the world. I have so much to be thankfu