My Third Trip to Haiti - Part 3

8-16-08

And the rains? They did come. Even now we are being lashed with terrific winds and rains.

The house is coming alive. I hear the girl’s voices. Creole has a fascinating quality to it. A rooster crows. Everything here is closer to the earth. In America we put a barrier between ourselves and creation. We make it easier to forget God. Only a people who live in luxury can say there is no God. Sure, some people here act like there is no God but that’s the sin nature. Yet, you can see God all around you. His plan is in the dawn. His power is in the wind. His majesty is in the sound of the falling rain. His wisdom is in the shadow stealing cross the floor. His love is in the melody of a child’s song.

Some of the kids are swarming around me now. They think my writing is too small. I tried to tell them that sometimes I can’t even read my own writing.



Later – I went to an old folks’ home with a group from the local church. It was a reeking house of indignity and death, insanity and disease. The sorrow. The loneliness. The pounding ache of human suffering. What do you think preoccupied my mind? Compassion? No. Concern? No. Love? No, no and no. Germs and a beautiful girl. Why am I so weak?



I watched poor people gave to people that are even more poor. The women at the church save their money to buy food to give to the old folks. The government runs the place, but they don’t provide food or at least not enough to sustain a person. The people have to rely on their families or the charity of strangers to bring them real food.



The lady who runs the place became very upset because I was taking pictures. She said I was going to use them for “political purposes.” Meaning that I would take the pictures to the media and show the conditions these people are living in. But things were smoothed out and I got some pictures. I didn’t take pictures of some things. I felt that the old folks were in a bad enough position without some “blanc” heaping indignities on them.



All this rain we are getting is Tropical Storm Fay. It’s so cool I almost need a sweatshirt.

Hmmm... the old folks’ home? I’m trying to forget. But I mustn’t. One of the young girls from the church sat with an old lady. The woman’s face lit up with joy. The joy of just speaking with another human being for a minute or two. There were other sights, too. Ones that I won’t record. Ones that made me close my eyes. Ones that made me shake.

Why am I moving here? My Lord, why am I the one? Because I’m willing? Am I willing?

Metti just came and crawled into my lap. She sang Amazing Grace in Creole for about an hour. She’s all smiles and makes me laugh. Why am I moving here, again? Hmmm...

I’m supposed to be preparing a sermon. For tomorrow!