Well, we had Thanksgiving two days late, mostly because I forgot about it and didn’t take the turkey out of the freezer in time. (Yes I was able to locate a relatively inexpensive Turkey at Megamart and was so pleased that I bought two!) We didn’t really have any plans for who would be eating outside of our family, but as usual, people starting trickling in the door as the food was being prepared and it was an honor to ask them to stay for their first ever Thanksgiving meal. Beatrice, who has recently been relocated to another house on account of her battles with domestic violence issues, thanked me profoundly and reminded me how desparate things are here in Haiti when she told me that she wouldn’t have otherwise eaten that day. (Nor would her three lovely children seen in the picture here.).
I feel as though my perception of normal keeps getting pushed further and furth off of my North American track. Can you imagine a family not feeding their three children for several days without someone stepping in and helping? And then there’s the constant battle of helping verses hurting in terms of empowering and enabling. How do we rescue and still train people to take care of themselves? Can I have people work in our jewelry program and yet not feed them simultaneously? It has to be both. For me it does anyways.
I had several knocks on the gate today. Apparently the word is out that on Rue Dalia #13, there are some white people who want to help families. (that’s our address in case I lost you) So, the women are showing up with their babies regularly now. Wanting food, medicine, a job, to give their babies to me and on and on…
I don’t say that I can’t help them. I ask them to pray for me. Pray that the heavens open up and all the resources and abilities to do all that God intends for me to do here are provided. They tell me that they will pray for me, and that they will pray that I don’t forget them. It is hard to know that my limited resources might result in an 11 month old baby crying themselves to sleep hungry tonight. And if I open my eyes and look out over Haiti, all I see is crying babies and hungry children and desparate mothers and fathers. How to withstand the depression and exhaustion of the neverending need and yet still be hopeful and optimistic about what is to come.. what God can do here in this desparate land… that is my dilemma. I wonder what it would be like for it to be me on the other side of my gate. Asking for a little bit of food to give to Keziah or Zebedee. Oh God.. I pray… rain down blessing on this country. Not because of anything …but simply your mercy. Amen.