Around 5 p.m. is my absolute favorite time of the day. We have just finished teaching our ESL young adults class and I head outside to play with the kids who are crowding around the porch waiting for class to be over.
I catch my breath as I gaze out upon the beauty of the mountains that surround me. The air is cool, which in Haiti is a big deal. Haitian kiddos are littered across the landscape playing football, singing songs and tossing frisbees.
I pick up a frisbee and start in on the action. My Creole only takes me so far. I know names and faces and can ask how they are doing ("Como ou ye?"), but beyond that my communication is big smiles, tickles, giggles and laughter.
Everyone is outside tonight. We are one community, living together as one body. Older sisters and brothers grasp tightly to their phones as they halfway engage in the setting and halfway listen to their favorite rap song. Little sisters fight and throw rocks. There's always someone who's not wearing pants.
And out of nowhere, I feel a bonk on my head. Realizing quickly it was a frisbee, I look up to catch the gaze of Dave who looks equally worried and embarrassed to have hit the Blanc in the head.
In a moment of whimsy, I decide to really play up the moment. Dropping to the ground in complete melodrama, I play dead. Laughter erupts from around me and I hear feet flooding towards my pretend limp body. I smile and stand back up and throw the frisbee back.
It was in that moment I realized the Gospel knows no bounds. The Gospel doesn't need me to know fluent Creole for me to share God's unending love with His people. Sure, as I study the language and engage with the people of Haiti, I will learn more Creole. But the point is not what I can do, but what The Almighty God is already doing. He is living inside of me and His love is overflowing. My God is more powerful than language barriers.Morgan Martin, a student at the University of Texas at Austin, is currently serving as a Go Now semester missionary with We Care Haiti.