1. God always provides.

The first day of our trek was a 12-mile uphill hike. We started at dawn and were all running low on water by noon. In Haiti, there is very little clean water, so drinking from streams, faucets, etc will most likely make you sick. Also, there aren't gas stations, convenience stores, or supermarkets in their villages--just markets that are set up on certain days of the week. Needless to say, means of finding water were scarce. Our group leader called someone at base camp to send water to us when we began to run out, but because there is little to no service and a language barrier, we were not sure when or how the water would arrive. Around 2 pm, we took a break because three of us were completely out of water and getting dehydrated. Our group leader led us in prayer, and after about 15 minutes, he told us that we had to keep moving in order to reach our camp by dusk. He warned us to be extremely careful and frugal with our remaining water. Just as we got onto our feet again, we saw a "moto" (Haitian version of a motorcycle--really more like a moped) full of bags of water coming toward us. That moment is when I learned firsthand lesson number 1: God always provides.

2. God doesn't always reveal His plan.

By the end of the day, we were exhausted, to say the least. Being that the next day was Sunday, we planned to spend the day at the campsite and attend the local church. After the day of rest, we planned to resume our hike and summit the mountain on Monday.

I realized how spoiled I probably seemed when I found that the women in stilettos and children in busted shoes were the same women and children who walked two hours to church every Sunday. Still, the thought of summiting a mountain in less than 48 hours terrified me.

I woke up Monday morning determined to do God's work. As we began the trek, we were told it was only supposed to be a two-hour hike up (or at least we thought that's what the Haitian guide said). Sensibly, when four hours had passed and we still were nowhere close to the peak, we began to get nervous. By hour five, we were exhausted, confused, and scared. I pointed to a peak close in the distance and said, "Is that it?"

It didn't take speaking the same language to know the guide most definitely said, "No."

The sun began its descent, and we were still not at the top. I was no expert mountain climber, but coming down a mountain in the dark didn't seem like a genius idea. At hour six, just as I thought we were about to reach the peak, we climbed to the top just to see another ascent in front of us. After another 40 minutes uphill, we finally saw the actual top of the mountain-- and it still seemed over an hour away.

The last hour of the hike was the hardest. Loose rocks caused us to lose our footing, our hiking poles lost their grips on the steep inclines, and a drop off into oblivion was inches away from our feet. Tears began to stream down my face and my whole body shook as I whispered desperate pleas to God, asking Him to protect us as we summited. After what seemed like an eternity, the peak seemed within reach. Every five steps we advanced, the people in front would tell us that it looked like just five more steps.

After hearing "five more steps" four times, I began to think I grew up learning a different math than the rest of the world...especially because it took us seven hours to reach the peak we had initially been expecting to take two.

Once we reached the peak, my tears of fear transformed into tears of accomplishment, exhaustion, and joy. As I looked out-- toward the water, toward the villages, toward all the smaller mountains we climbed and originally thought were the peak-- I realized I would never have thought summiting was possible if I would've seen how high we needed to climb at the start of the day. This is where I learned lesson number 2: God doesn't always reveal His plans for us because they will seem impossible to accomplish. Instead, He reveals the next five steps.

3. Creation welcomes in each new day with praises to God.

The third lesson I remember most from this trip was actually one my dad pointed out to me. After completing our summit, we spent our third and final day of hiking traveling to Pérédo, where we would spend the remainder of the week volunteering in the hospital, school, and dormitory. Like I previously mentioned, the water supply was scarce. Our shower water came from a tank that was filled up by rainwater, so water pressure was slim to none. We were advised to turn the shower "off" while lathering on shampoo, conditioner, and soap and to turn the shower "on" solely to rinse. Even when the water was on full blast, it seemed that the shower head merely dripped. We also learned the world-famous saying "If it's yellow, let it mellow. If it's brown, flush it down" to conserve usage of toilet water. When we climbed into bed at night, we had no air conditioning, and our bunk beds were surrounded by mosquito nets to keep away bugs. Still, I slept like a baby because of how exhausted I was.

My dad, however, did not sleep peacefully.

Where we were in Haiti, seeing animals was almost as common as seeing people. Chicken, goats, donkeys, and other animals were held on rope leashes or freely roaming about the land. In the wee hours of the morning, just as dawn began to break, the animals awoke and were very, very vocal about it. My dad, a light sleeper, awoke to the noises and gave up on his slumber.

After making his way to the dining building for a cup of coffee, he lingered outside for a moment. Suddenly, it dawned on him that the "hee-haws", "baaaas", and "cock-a-doodle-doooooos" he heard all morning weren't as annoying as he thought. It was then he realized lesson number three: Creation welcomes in each new day with praises to God.