handiworkings

This week has not disappointed with its share of ups and downs. Twice this week, we drove by dead bodies on the road in front of our base. For hours their bodies laid off the side of the road, maimed, bloody. Left as if it were an animal or a cast away bag of trash. They are likely pedestrians that got hit, or motorcyclists involved in an accident. In one case, we heard that the man’s motorcycle was taken while his body was left lying next to it, disregarded. In Haiti, the police will not move dead bodies. There is limited ambulance service. Often they are left until a community or church comes to identify them- which can take days at times. So they are left for dead, literally,  for the world to drive by and see. I wondered how many hundreds of people drove by and have that impression now in their minds.

I wonder more how many care.

Today, we stopped and put a blanket over one dead man’s body. I tried not to look at his face, but my eyes found their way there. Ive been thinking about that image tonight. It was a helpless feeling today. As our vehicle rolled by, we did all we could do- offered a little dignity by covering his body and said a prayer in our hearts as we drove away.

These are the kinds of things we contend with here. A lapse in the sanctity of life. An intense interest in the now. A limited regard for the future. It’s been the most jolting and unsettling part of absorbing dailiness here. But death seems so much more inevitable, available, in Haiti. A blip, a pause, then time marches on quickly.

Lately, I’ve been trying to do more listening. I’ve found myself talking a lot, stringing words together to make sense of this experience, of these people, who I have come to love despite the disconnected and countless ways I may never- and could never- understand their culture.

I came across this Haitian prayer the other day:

Lord,

Help us not to talk too much

Because talking too much

Is like driving too fast.

Sometimes the brakes are not good

And we pass by the place where we intended to stop.

When we talk too much

We know we go beyond the truth

There are always triumphs, though, interlaced with the tragedies here. I am overjoyed (but still cautious) to report that we’ve found a lovely little home for little P’s family. It’s perfect in many ways that their current place is not, and I hope to report the success of the giving of that gift soon. We are doing our own version of Extreme Home Makeover- Haiti tomorrow at the place. Cleaning, raking, mopping, getting it all gussied up and ready to be bless the family.Once the contract is signed and we have it ready, I’ll know it’s for real. More than anything, it promises to be a place Plumpy can thrive and and where they have a chance to be a family and start over together. P will have space to learn to walk. He will have clean water nearby. He will not get constant lung infections from dusty camp living. My heart is full.

There is, of course, a story within this story. We went to visit the place for rent this week. We found a squatter family assembled on the patio. I noticed a young child, maybe 8 months, seated and balanced between two pillows on the ground. Flopped over like a ragdoll she lay, her mouth wide open as she breathed. I noticed as we walked closer that she had a severe form of cleft palette and cleft lip. Her mother looked at me with little emotion as she picked her up to feed her, maneuvering her breast into her mouth with little success. It hit me, in that tucked away village near a trash-filled, babbling brook, that this family has likely gone unnoticed for quite some time. We left, promising to help connect them with an organization doing surgery. After days worth of calling, texting, and trying to get a hold of the right person, we found out – gloriously- Smile Train is coming on Sept 1st to perform surgeries here. We were able to get the child on the list for surgery, and gave them a love offering to help them as they move to the next place.

These are the times I am reminded of the layers of God’s handiwork, his ways, that are knitted strategically into the fiber of life in places like Haiti. Stumbling across this family was one of these moments today. He is giving us these as we prepare to leave this season.

In my last post I talked about Esaie and how the orphanage rebuild we had been praying for got approved. We were able to announce it to him during a surprise party. I had found a whopper box and made it into a 3-D house, and rolled up a piece of paper that said, “Surprise! We are building you and the children a new orphanage!” It was a true blessing to be able to tell he and the kids- what a celebration of God’s provision and a testimony that prayer is, indeed, powerful. They were overcome with emotion.

This is God’s heart in action. We take these little blessings with us, and focus on the triumphs here- hard as they are sometimes to see. And we know we’ll be back, to visit Esaie’s new orphanage, to sit on the porch of Peterson’s new house, to fellowship with the Haitian friends we have made here.

When I am quiet, I hear God reminding me of this. And I will carry those promises with me as I go.