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Dirty feet.

Updated: Jan 2

I remember descending in the plane and thinking, wow, I’m in a foreign country with my church brothers and sisters and we are going do wondrous things here. Our Haitian team was waiting for us upon arrival and after introductions were made, we were on our way to a village that would forever change my life. That night I slept with great anticipation of what was going to happen and how we were going to make a difference.


The next morning, we were told that a lady from the village had passed away and we would be paying our respects at her funeral. We drove for a while until we couldn’t go any further; it was so muddy that if we tried moving any more, we would’ve sunk deeper into the mud. Instead, we proceeded to walk up to the little church barn where her service was being held. I remember hearing the beautiful voices coming from that building and wishing that I understood what was being sung. With our translator’s help, I learned that the woman that had passed was special to many and that she was somehow related to the little girl that I currently sponsor.


After the service, our team loaded up and continued on. I was so excited at the prospect of seeing our village, school, church, and my sponsor child that I could hardly contain myself. We trekked about a mile and a half up because the mud was still too much for our bus. There were so many things running through my mind as I helped carry supplies to our destination, slipping and sliding all over. I chose to use this time to chat with God and thank him for the opportunity to serve and fellowship. I had mud up to my knees.

We came to a clearing at the top of the hill and I could see our church building in the distance. It seemed so tiny, especially sitting in the huge open space amongst the glorious view. My heart was racing and out of nowhere, children were running to us, smiles and tears and hugs exchanged. I felt so much love in my heart that I forgot that I was covered up to my knees in drying mud.


I heard someone say that there was no water to be found, at least not close by. Suddenly I noticed an older woman walking toward me with what looked like a cup in her hands. She motioned for me to stay where I was and when she got to me, she bent down to wash my feet with the cup of water. Water is such a precious commodity in Haiti and yet she was using it on me. Does it get any more biblical than that?!


Our time in Marmont went by so fast... We built chalkboards and benches for the upcoming school year, taught some of the children how to paint, played ball, and read stories. At this point, I knew that I would be coming back and that Marmont would be forever a place in my heart. After making such lasting connections, leaving was especially hard. As I sobbed and walked down the hill through the mud, I remember fully getting why we chose Marmont, why we do what we do there, and why we keep going back. It only took one visit to understand the WHY.


[Written by LHP Ambassador, Laura Webb]

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PO Box 655
Kathleen, FL 33849

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