Fr. Gerry jumped out of the car, walked down a steep path of rocks and exclaimed, “Here it is!” I looked where he pointed, but didn’t see anything but a concrete shell – a floor, one wall, and a ceiling held up by exposed metal poles. The construction site was surrounded by small cinderblock homes. An old faded skirt and blouse were drying on a wood railing just a few feet away.

“Where is it?” I whispered, embarrassed to ask.

“Right here,” he said matter-of-factly as he stepped onto a smooth surface in the midst of piles of concrete blocks and rubble. Stretching his arms over his head, he let out one of his belly laughs and announced, “The St. Jude Chapel is finally here!” Then he spun around in a circle and beamed, “We poured the floor yesterday. It’s dry now.”

As I stood in the middle of the small floor and looked around at the empty space, women in Sunday dresses, hats, and shoes started to arrive, bringing rickety chairs from their homes a few yards away. They lined them up carefully to form pews. A young man set up a card table on the edge of the floor. Then an elderly woman carefully smoothed a pretty white tablecloth over it. Fr. Gerry put on his robe and then reverently placed his Bible and communion cup on the table. A teenager sitting on a cinderblock started beating a drum between his legs, signaling the start of the opening hymn.

…Here we were in his new open-air chapel with no pews, no windows, no doors, only a wooden cross leaning on a pile of rocks.

Excerpt from On That Day, Everybody Ate: One Woman’s Story of Hope and Possibility

I’ll never forget that afternoon in Port-au-Prince, Haiti. Just moments after the cement floor had dried, the community gathered to worship. They didn’t wait for the rest to be finished. No one knew how long it would take to get the money needed for the walls, windows, electricity, or pews. They created a sacred space with what they had. They poured the floor and began.

When I started the What If? Foundation, I didn’t know where it was headed or what I was getting into. With enthusiasm, passion, and quite a bit of naiveté, I jumped in and started, barely after the floor had dried.

It started with a whisper. A thought emerged towards the end of my first visit to Haiti. It was a muggy night and Fr. Gerard Jean-Juste (a.k.a. Fr. Gerry) was speaking to the group I was with about Haiti’s history, spirituality, and fight for democracy. Someone asked him to talk about the severity of hunger and that’s when he paused, looked into the night and said, “I have a vision for a food program for the hungry children in my community.” That’s when an idea came to me – what if I could help him make his vision a reality?

I’ve wondered why this thought didn’t float in and float right out, just like so many other thoughts I’ve had; why it didn’t go into the great idea, but not now, not me, not possible category. Instead, this innocent idea skipped my mind and settled in my heart, where it never left. Unscheduled, unscripted, unexpected – it changed my entire life.

Ideas that speak to the heart are the ones I’ve learned to pay attention to and act on. I’m not always spot on when it comes to the heart, but the best decisions I’ve ever made in my life have come when my heart speaks first, before my mind has time to catch up and talk me out of it with a long list of reasonable reasons why the idea is not quite right. Saying “yes” to the invitation to go to Haiti the first time is one of those moments. Deciding to help Fr. Gerry and his community start their food program and then creating the What If? Foundation is another.

These heart decisions have grown into my passion, my avocation, and a tremendous source of joy and fulfillment. I’m so thankful I jumped in when it all seemed so simple, before I realized how hard it was going to be, how much time it would take, how much I had to learn. If I’d been given a crystal ball and the opportunity to see years into the future – the mountaintops and valleys, the work and commitment, the joys and sorrows, the periods of challenge and grace – I think I would’ve decided that it was too much for me to handle, that I wasn’t experienced enough and that someone else should do it. Thank God I didn’t have a crystal ball because I would’ve missed out on the greatest journey of my life – out of the fear of not being good enough.

I like to imagine that God sends out an infinite supply of ideas filled with love, compassion, and peace. Ideas in all shapes and sizes for all personalities and interests that lead to opportunities for growth. But they need a human heart to take hold of them, nurture them, and bring them into form. They need us to take that first step, however small.

It took a few years for the St. Jude chapel to be built. Little by little, Fr. Gerry added walls and windows. But then there was a hurricane and a flood that nearly washed everything away. The sanctuary was buried in mud and they were back to only having a floor. They started construction again.

Over the years, political, economic, and natural hurricanes have struck Haiti, Fr. Gerry, the members of his community, and the food program. It has not been easy to keep everything going. But fueled by the strength and courage that comes when hearts are engaged, the meals have flowed through it all and continue to flow even after the death of Fr. Gerry last May.

School scholarships, a summer camp, an after school program, and most recently, a garden – all run by members of the St. Clare’s community and funded through the What If? Foundation – everything started with a vision, then an idea, then a little step. Then another step. Then another. Trusting in the power of faith, hope, and love – the language of the heart.