In a year of unprecedented challenges, our leaders in Haiti continue to show up with courage and commitment each day, fighting for their families, their communities, and their future. Thank you for investing in their work.
Dear Friends,
Thank you for partnering in our progress. This year our local leaders opened a hospital, expanded agricultural programs, built new infrastructure at St. Paul's School, and continued essential girls' empowerment initiatives in the community.
"Hope is not a lottery ticket you can sit on the sofa and clutch, feeling lucky. It is an axe you break down doors with in an emergency."
— Rebecca Solnit, Hope in the Dark
After reading recent headlines from Haiti, a friend asked: "How do your partners stay hopeful? They're so resilient." Hope and resilience—these words are ubiquitous in contexts of crisis. What do they really mean? What do they look like on the ground?
When I reflect on what I see in Haiti (and in fact what I see in our own country) I find that hope is often the result of action, not vice versa. In a time of crisis, we don't assess whether there's reason to be hopeful before we act. We act because we know what needs to be done. And when we act, we are hopeful.
Pierrette Décime
is developing the hospital farm and garden while leading a community-based planning process on future agricultural programs for Petit Trou.
And she is hopeful.
Guilot Tibert
a pillar at St. Paul's School for decades, teaches, organizes, and leads the committee managing new construction on campus.
And he is hopeful.
Jennifer Cineus
a midwife living at the hospital, manages maternity, oversees continuing education, and partners with Pierrette on nutrition programming for pregnant mothers.
And she is hopeful.
Nadine Veillard
our girls' empowerment coordinator, organizes chess and art clubs—afterschool programs for teens newly arrived from Port-au-Prince.
And she is hopeful.
1.4 million people have fled the capital. 5.7 million face extreme hunger. The political situation shows no sign of improvement. Our leaders act, and they are hopeful. This is often called resilience, and it is resilience, but as the brilliant writer Edwidge Danticat reminds us, we should be thoughtful about what this word means, and what it doesn’t.
"Sometimes we call individuals resilient, and it's wonderful. But we're asking millions of people to be resilient in a way that suggests that they can bear more than others."
— Edwidge Danticat
Haitian people are not built to bear this suffering. They don’t see it as normal or acceptable. Our work together—your partnership with teachers, farmers, doctors, and families in Haiti—isn't only about celebrating their extreme resilience. It's about making it unnecessary; about challenging the conditions that give rise to it.
Your support is making a life-changing difference in one of the most challenging contexts on earth. The return on your investment is health, education, dignity, progress—and yes, hope. It’s not an easy hope, the crossing of fingers or the holding of a lottery ticket, it is a hope that comes from daily decisions, drops of courage and devotion that accumulate into waves of progress.
Thank you for acting this year; and for remaining hopeful with the leaders and families of Petit Trou. Please know it makes a very real difference.
With love, gratitude, and best wishes for 2026,
Wynn