None of us were doctors. We all knew this. Maybe we have been so hardened by mainstream media, that what we saw did not move us. Maybe without words, we just knew that whatever we saw when we walked in to that hospital would be beyond our control, and there was nothing we could do to fix any of the children, but pray that they would be okay.
Thinking back about the children I did not photograph, the baby with the exposed brains, or the child who literally looked like a skeleton with skin- with flies swarming its tiny little body, I can only think about the Serenity Prayer.
"God, grant me the serenity to accept the things I cannot change, The courage to change the things I can, And the wisdom to know the difference."
You know, the prayer that is always prayed at the end of any Alcoholic Anonymous meetings that may be portrayed on television, well I wholeheartedly believe that that prayer applies to our visit to the General Hospital in Port au Prince.
Our mission upon going to the hospital was to pass out diapers, formula, bottles, and clothing to mothers in the ICU, and the mothers waiting for their sick children to be seen. We visited three different buildings, beginning with the ICU and expectant mothers. There we saw some of the tiniest babies you could imagine, all with their families near by, and doctors keeping a close watch. Then we went to two wooden buildings across the street, where women would bring their sick children in hopes that they would get help. There were women sitting on the ground, and in chairs with their babies waiting to get a bed, and possibly an I.V. of fluid, and other women lined up in rows next to filled cribs with crying sickly children. Once these women had their children in cribs they would be seen by a doctor, and in turn given a prescription to be filled. Once the prescriptions had been handed out, most of the mothers would just stand there and wait, because barely any of them had the money to go get the prescriptions filled. So Mona went around collecting prescriptions from women at random to be filled, and took the prescriptions to the Pharmacy, and then we waited. And waited.
Soon a woman in a bright yellow top came out of the dark wooden building wailing, and crying. She had a piece of paper in her hand, and she said in creole that her baby was dead, and that she had to take the piece of paper to the morgue so they would know to come and pick the child up. This happened once more while we were sitting there waiting, and who knows, maybe we had taken their prescriptions to be filled, and it was just too late. I can not say.
We did what we could while we were there. And although our offerings were not permanent, and probably didn't save any lives, we accepted the little change we tried to make, and the serenity to know that bad things happen to everyone, and there was nothing more we could ourselves could do but pray.
Sunday, September 16, 2012
Saturday, September 15, 2012
The little things may not seem like much, but children don't see it that way
Childhood. A time that most adults look back on longingly remembering the things that helped shape them most. I had a dream last night that took place in my Grandparents old farm house. There was nothing special or significant about this dream, but I woke up thinking about how often I have dreams that take place in this house despite the fact that I have not been inside it for over 13 years. This place that I spent so much time in, a place where my father lived, and my grandparents lived, and my great grandparents lived. A place where I ate homemade blueberry pancakes with real maple syrup, where I lied on the grass watching the clouds above morph in to familiar shapes and figures as my grandma and I would shout them out by name, and the garage where my grandpa would take me so we could sit in a hideous caution cone colored orange chair reading children's books he once read to my father. The people who lived in this place along with many other adults in other places I went, molded me, and my mind, and the way I am today. For example, I love blueberries, and sometimes I can look at things and not see them for exactly what they are, but for what they could be, and I love to read, which in turn has expanded my abilities to write. My love of photography came from my mother, and my contemplative silence from my father, my tomboyish ways from my brother, and religion from my daycare providers.
No one could have predicted exactly what would have stuck with me, but whether these people knew it or not those are some of the things and some of the memories that have been ingrained in my mind, and my being.
As we were bumping along in the back of the white pick up truck through the dirt and dust of Port au Prince, reluctantly headed toward the airport, I was thinking about Papa Cassey. About what his children gained from his presence, and how they so cherished the time they were able to spend with him. And although I know I will never be as significant in their lives as he was- not even close- I thought about what they will say about me when they remember their childhood. I have not given them much in the way of possessions, but if nothing else I hope they remember how I kept coming back. I also plan on knowing them as adults, but I just hope one day that they look back on the time they spent at the Good Shepherd Orphanage as children and remember me as the woman who was there from time to time for the little things, like a game of basketball, or cartwheels in the rain, or just a nice long hug. I hope they interpret my my persistence, my never ending supply of hugs, and my efforts to learn creole as my form of love for them. And that they will feel blessed, as I feel blessed to know them, and all the adults that helped me along the way.
Wednesday, April 4, 2012
Visiting the Handicap Orphanage
I have thought for a long time about what I should write about this last Orphanage that we went to visit. I am sure that if I sit and think too long about it, I will lose all hope in truly being able to help them. A year ago, when I was in Haiti, Francois Mezilien, the founder of the ASHCA or (Haitian Handicap Orphanage) approached Kristen and I and simply asked us for our help. He told us that when we went back to the United States we needed to tell everyone we knew about his orphanage, because they so very much need help.
I have to say I have seen a lot of progress in around Port au Prince since the Earthquake, and although this progress may seem small to those who have not been, things have gotten better. Tent cities have been taken down- which I can only hope are gone because those people have found a place to live, and not just the government forcing them out. Crooked or crumbling buildings have been demolished, and in some places new structures have gone up. Things are getting better. But when I walk in to Francois' orphanage I see little, if no change. Their buildings still stand- unlivable, and unused. The tents issued to them 2.5 years ago are still standing, and still in use. A very large tree with roots poking out of the ground runs along the main pathway between tents, making it difficult for wheelchairs to get in and out, and cots and steel frame beds lay exposed to any weather that may come. This year Francois was not in Haiti when I was, but was in the United States with his wife who had given birth. It is more difficult to communicate with Francois because he does not know English, and considering he was not there, there was not a whole lot that we could do while we were there. But I can at least tell you a little bit about what I have seen, and encourage you all to pray about Francois and his orphanage.
The first little boy I would like to tell you about is probably 5 or 6 by now. I met him in August of 2010, and at that time he was 4. There is not much known about him, at the time that I met him, they did not know what was wrong with him. He can not speak, he can not walk, or really do much of anything. He just sits in his wheelchair, cute as could be, looking at you. As soon as we got to the orphanage, Collyn immediately began looking for the little boy, and spent the entire time near him. This boy is special, he is beautiful, and his favorite thing to do is fist bump! He would go around and around putting out his little fist for everyone to bump. And then when he got through everyone he would rest his hand for a minute and start over again, going through the crowd, fist bumping, it was so funny!
The next story I want to write about involves Herwine. She is one of the girls at the GSO, and she came with us to see the children. I have watched Herwine grow over the past few years, she is one of my closest friends at the Orphanage. But she is young, and she acts young, she is probably 15 or 16, abandoned by her father when she was only 11. Dropped off at the GSO with no more than a 'See ya later!'
Earlier in the day, we were at the school waiting around for the bus, and Herwine was playing keep away with some of the younger girls book bags. That is when one of the boys from our group who was watching what was going on said "Herwine can be kind of mean", and I just kind of agreed and rolled my eyes, knowing how much she loves to tease people. But later that day when we were at the Handicap orphanage I saw a different side of Herwine, a loving, and tender side. I was sitting there, watching everyone interact with the kids, taking a few photographs, and Herwine knelt down next to a little girl in a wheel chair and began to sing songs with her. First a hand clapping song, then a wonderful little song that sang about her ears, nose, lips, and eyes. It was very touching to see Herwine treat this little girl with such love, and care, when I had seen her tease so many others. Later that night Juliet asked if we had seen God working through anyone that day, and I had to say Herwine, the way she treated the little girl was beautiful, and I know that Herwine will do great things with children one day.
This orphanage is hard to go to, and even harder to leave. many children in Haiti have been abandoned for one reason or another, but for certain every child there has been abandoned because they were not perfect, or they were too difficult to care for. The only one who has not abandoned them, are those who care for them at the Orphanage, and to be honest things there are bleak. They are scraping by, and I guess they will continue to do so, but I struggle everyday wondering what more I could do for them. Perhaps someday I can do more, or perhaps one of you could so more now. I don't know. But Francois is a good man for what he has done, and he needs help, a lot of help!
Francois Mezelien
assoho8ca@yahoo.fr
I have to say I have seen a lot of progress in around Port au Prince since the Earthquake, and although this progress may seem small to those who have not been, things have gotten better. Tent cities have been taken down- which I can only hope are gone because those people have found a place to live, and not just the government forcing them out. Crooked or crumbling buildings have been demolished, and in some places new structures have gone up. Things are getting better. But when I walk in to Francois' orphanage I see little, if no change. Their buildings still stand- unlivable, and unused. The tents issued to them 2.5 years ago are still standing, and still in use. A very large tree with roots poking out of the ground runs along the main pathway between tents, making it difficult for wheelchairs to get in and out, and cots and steel frame beds lay exposed to any weather that may come. This year Francois was not in Haiti when I was, but was in the United States with his wife who had given birth. It is more difficult to communicate with Francois because he does not know English, and considering he was not there, there was not a whole lot that we could do while we were there. But I can at least tell you a little bit about what I have seen, and encourage you all to pray about Francois and his orphanage.
The first little boy I would like to tell you about is probably 5 or 6 by now. I met him in August of 2010, and at that time he was 4. There is not much known about him, at the time that I met him, they did not know what was wrong with him. He can not speak, he can not walk, or really do much of anything. He just sits in his wheelchair, cute as could be, looking at you. As soon as we got to the orphanage, Collyn immediately began looking for the little boy, and spent the entire time near him. This boy is special, he is beautiful, and his favorite thing to do is fist bump! He would go around and around putting out his little fist for everyone to bump. And then when he got through everyone he would rest his hand for a minute and start over again, going through the crowd, fist bumping, it was so funny!
The next story I want to write about involves Herwine. She is one of the girls at the GSO, and she came with us to see the children. I have watched Herwine grow over the past few years, she is one of my closest friends at the Orphanage. But she is young, and she acts young, she is probably 15 or 16, abandoned by her father when she was only 11. Dropped off at the GSO with no more than a 'See ya later!'
Earlier in the day, we were at the school waiting around for the bus, and Herwine was playing keep away with some of the younger girls book bags. That is when one of the boys from our group who was watching what was going on said "Herwine can be kind of mean", and I just kind of agreed and rolled my eyes, knowing how much she loves to tease people. But later that day when we were at the Handicap orphanage I saw a different side of Herwine, a loving, and tender side. I was sitting there, watching everyone interact with the kids, taking a few photographs, and Herwine knelt down next to a little girl in a wheel chair and began to sing songs with her. First a hand clapping song, then a wonderful little song that sang about her ears, nose, lips, and eyes. It was very touching to see Herwine treat this little girl with such love, and care, when I had seen her tease so many others. Later that night Juliet asked if we had seen God working through anyone that day, and I had to say Herwine, the way she treated the little girl was beautiful, and I know that Herwine will do great things with children one day.
This orphanage is hard to go to, and even harder to leave. many children in Haiti have been abandoned for one reason or another, but for certain every child there has been abandoned because they were not perfect, or they were too difficult to care for. The only one who has not abandoned them, are those who care for them at the Orphanage, and to be honest things there are bleak. They are scraping by, and I guess they will continue to do so, but I struggle everyday wondering what more I could do for them. Perhaps someday I can do more, or perhaps one of you could so more now. I don't know. But Francois is a good man for what he has done, and he needs help, a lot of help!
Francois Mezelien
assoho8ca@yahoo.fr
Sunday, April 1, 2012
Many Father's and lots of Love
I am sure that when you think about orphanages you think about children who are parentless, or abandoned, left to fend for themselves. And then in turn children at orphanages are adopted to families around the globe. In Haiti that is not always the case. At Le Bon Berger (The Good Shepherd) orphanage, a lot of the kids still have parents, and are still in contact with them. Some families in Haiti are unable to provide for all of their children, and it is common practice to send your child to live with other families, or to live in Orphanages in the hopes that they will have a chance to go to school, and thus have a better future. This is one of the reasons why Papa Cassey decided his orphanage would not be an adoptable orphanage.
I am grateful for Papa Cassey’s decision because this means that every time I go to Le Bon Berger I will get to see the same awesome little boys, as I got to see on my previous visits. As it turns out, a chance meeting happened for one couple who came to serve at the Good Shepherd Orphanage, and they fell in love with a little girl named Georgina. Now Georgina was not a child at the orphanage, but a child of one of the older men that grew up at the orphanage. George, Georgina’s father expressed his concerns to the couple about not being able to provide for his little girl, and the couple decided they wanted to adopt.
Considering this was not an option at Le Bon Berger Georgina had to be placed in a different orphanage that would be able to start the adoption process. In December of 2010 I had the privilege to meet Nasson and tour his orphanage, The Way of Jesus and Green River Pentecostal World Outreach Orphanage. We decided to take Georgina early one morning before breakfast. George met us at the O.M.S. and from there it was only a short, rather arduous hike up the side of a steep mountainous hill. Being a climber I am more than used to sketchy hikes through rocky pathways, but this short climb felt as if it might take us to the top of the world! The increase in elevation from the Good Shepherd, which is seaside, to the perhaps 2 or 3 mile drive to the O.M.S. seemed slight, but in reality was incomprehensive. When we finally staggered to the gate of the orphanage, covered in sweat and dust, the building was still being built. But Nasson was more than happy to show us around, and take us to the second story where you could see all the way to the ocean, and even make out the general area that the Good Shepherd Orphanage was. He then told us stories of some of the small children he had taken in. Nasson said in 2007 his wife and him had been considering and praying over the idea of opening an orphanage, and the deciding factor came one day when he was in town running errands. He had heard through word of mouth that a little child had been literally thrown away in a dumpster, and no one would claim him. Nasson quickly sent someone to ask his wife if he could bring the child home. At the same time word had reached his wife, that there was a little boy in a garbage can and she immediately sent someone to retrieve the child. When he learned that his wife had already sent someone to get the child, he knew that starting the orphanage was the right thing to do, and they began to look for other children in need.
Every time I go to Haiti, I now have 3 orphanages to visit, and although I am sure that Georgina doesn’t remember me, and I will never be in integral part of her life, I will never forget her, and the day her father loved her so much, that he had to let her go.
On our week long stay, we had the chance to visit this Orphanage twice, and bring them supplies, like little girls underwear, thanks to several people, like Kathleen, Eric, Haslett Community Church, and other friends of the UK Students. The first time we went, we were able to bring personal goods for Georgina, and also just spend time with the little children. By the time we had reached the orphanage it was dusk, so we spent our visit sitting in the dark holding little kids that clung to us the minute we walked in the gate. This trip was especially poignant for me because I got to hold a little baby. I don't know if it was a boy or girl, the reason it was there, or it's name, but I did find out that it was 6 months old, and weighed approximately that of a new born. It was so small and quiet, I could not believe it to be 6 months old, but it was capable of holding it's head up, and grabbing me with it's tiny little fingers, and I just sat there in the dark holding this baby as the other little children sang 'Jesus Loves Me' and spun around in circles.
Wednesday, March 28, 2012
I think turquoise is the most popular color in Haiti
I have written a lot about my thoughts and feelings towards Haiti in general but I haven't really told you much about what we did on our last trip down. My goal this trip was to spend money. I have been saving for a year the donations I have made from selling bracelets and it was time I put some of that money to good use! And until about a week before we were scheduled to leave we had no idea what we were going to do. The call came from Mona, and we packed our bags, ready to paint!
Since the earthquake, over two years ago, Papa Ernst Casseys School had been undergoing subtle changes. Some areas of the school are over 3 stories tall, and miraculously none of the structures on school grounds were damaged beyond repair. They have gone from having school and church services beneath tarps they had hung from one building to the next, to services being held in a large warehouse type building, to finally being able to go back to classrooms. However there is still a large part of the school's buildings that are not being used, and that includes their Cafeteria and Library. Since the earthquake school days have been shortened due to the lack of these facilities. If they can't feed the kids, they can't ask them to stay late in to the afternoon.
We were asked to paint the Cafeteria, and I happily gave what I could to buy gallons upon gallons of yellow and turquoise paint. The first day we sanded the concrete walls, and thankfully we brought enough sunglasses and rags to cover our nose and mouths and eyes because the dust was awful! We sanded everything from the ceiling to the floors, we sanded until our sand paper had no sand left on it, and by noon we all looked like the kid in The Sandlot who came stumbling out of the tree house after his attempt to retrieve the baseball resulted in vacuums shorting, and dust exploding everywhere!
On the second and third day way primed. We painted everything over and over again in white. In Haiti things are usually run a little different, and the delineation between being male and female, and what males and females can and can not do are still alive and well! Apparently Females can paint with small brushes, but when it comes to painting with rollers, or painting the ceilings, that was left to the men, so the guys usually left covered in little white specks, while the girls left with minor splotches and drips.
On the fourth day, Mona took use to a beach just outside of the city. The water was beautiful, and refreshing, and we had the opportunity to see a lot of sea creatures. Especially jellyfish, and starfish! Fortunately there was a fearless man who came to swim that day, and no qualms with picking jellyfish up by their tops and throwing them over the concrete walls! I think we all missed working that day, knowing that more could have gotten done, but at the same time I think it is important to see all sides of Haiti. It can be very difficult to go to a place where everything seems to be so rough, you can some times lose sight of what kind of beauty can still exist for the people who have to live there every day. Haiti is a beautiful country, and no Haitian I have met is ashamed. Happiness can be found sans extravagance, and I would say our beach trip was just that. I am sure that we all still wished the kids could have been there with us, but school is always important. And with us not being at the school, they probably actually learned something that day, ha ha!
On Friday we went back to finish painting at the school, and to our surprise almost everything was already done. The yellow parts were yellow, the white parts we touched up, and Erik I think reluctantly let Chloe, Juliet and I help finish the turquoise.
As for the afternoons we tried to do a Vacation Bible School for the neighborhood kids, but it usually just ended up being a bible story followed by crafts, followed by chaos.
Although I wish that we had had more time to do more in the quick and short week we were there, I believe by just being there for the kids, and repeatedly coming back I, and the others, show a deeper kind of love and caring, regardless of whether or not we have anything to give them, like candy, or toys, the fact that we keep showing up tells them that they are important and not to be forgotten, in our eyes or the Lords.
Since the earthquake, over two years ago, Papa Ernst Casseys School had been undergoing subtle changes. Some areas of the school are over 3 stories tall, and miraculously none of the structures on school grounds were damaged beyond repair. They have gone from having school and church services beneath tarps they had hung from one building to the next, to services being held in a large warehouse type building, to finally being able to go back to classrooms. However there is still a large part of the school's buildings that are not being used, and that includes their Cafeteria and Library. Since the earthquake school days have been shortened due to the lack of these facilities. If they can't feed the kids, they can't ask them to stay late in to the afternoon.
We were asked to paint the Cafeteria, and I happily gave what I could to buy gallons upon gallons of yellow and turquoise paint. The first day we sanded the concrete walls, and thankfully we brought enough sunglasses and rags to cover our nose and mouths and eyes because the dust was awful! We sanded everything from the ceiling to the floors, we sanded until our sand paper had no sand left on it, and by noon we all looked like the kid in The Sandlot who came stumbling out of the tree house after his attempt to retrieve the baseball resulted in vacuums shorting, and dust exploding everywhere!
On the second and third day way primed. We painted everything over and over again in white. In Haiti things are usually run a little different, and the delineation between being male and female, and what males and females can and can not do are still alive and well! Apparently Females can paint with small brushes, but when it comes to painting with rollers, or painting the ceilings, that was left to the men, so the guys usually left covered in little white specks, while the girls left with minor splotches and drips.
On the fourth day, Mona took use to a beach just outside of the city. The water was beautiful, and refreshing, and we had the opportunity to see a lot of sea creatures. Especially jellyfish, and starfish! Fortunately there was a fearless man who came to swim that day, and no qualms with picking jellyfish up by their tops and throwing them over the concrete walls! I think we all missed working that day, knowing that more could have gotten done, but at the same time I think it is important to see all sides of Haiti. It can be very difficult to go to a place where everything seems to be so rough, you can some times lose sight of what kind of beauty can still exist for the people who have to live there every day. Haiti is a beautiful country, and no Haitian I have met is ashamed. Happiness can be found sans extravagance, and I would say our beach trip was just that. I am sure that we all still wished the kids could have been there with us, but school is always important. And with us not being at the school, they probably actually learned something that day, ha ha!
On Friday we went back to finish painting at the school, and to our surprise almost everything was already done. The yellow parts were yellow, the white parts we touched up, and Erik I think reluctantly let Chloe, Juliet and I help finish the turquoise.
As for the afternoons we tried to do a Vacation Bible School for the neighborhood kids, but it usually just ended up being a bible story followed by crafts, followed by chaos.
Although I wish that we had had more time to do more in the quick and short week we were there, I believe by just being there for the kids, and repeatedly coming back I, and the others, show a deeper kind of love and caring, regardless of whether or not we have anything to give them, like candy, or toys, the fact that we keep showing up tells them that they are important and not to be forgotten, in our eyes or the Lords.
Sunday, March 25, 2012
You make beautiful things out of the dust
August 2009
I have just spent three weeks backpacking around Europe. I have seen so many beautiful things; from the pristine lakes and Alps of Switzerland, to the overwhelming halls of the Louvre in Paris stuffed with art. Italy, visited as a child and now revisited as an adult; I saw my favorites in museums and the Colosseum. To Barcelona where one dip in the ocean and you are covered in mysterious gold flecks.
Switzerland pampered, Italy with its graffiti and smelly trains disappointed, Spain was wonderful with its tapas, and Gaudi buildings everywhere, and France was unwillingly left behind having spent too little time. The taste of warm croissants, and flavorful gelato still linger on my tongue.
I am tired. So tired. Why did I agree to go to Haiti? I have been back home for less than a week. I miss Ryan, my cat, and my bed! There have been so many times in the past few days where i have almost called Juliet to tell her I don't want to go. I don't care, I just want to sleep.
But here I am climbing off a plane in the Caribbean. In to a stuffy yellow hallway I shuffle, and somewhere below me a band is playing. Julie claps and sways to the music and talks to anyone who will understand her "bonswa's" in Creole. I am tired. Now I am hot. As soon as we are through customs and baggage claim we are pushed out the door in to the blinding sunshine and as Juliet has warned- bombarded by French-ish speaking men in red and green plaid shirts, and khaki shorts trying to help me with my bags. I tell them no as nice as possible and push my way towards the gates where tons of brown faces are staring back at me waiting for a familiar face to pop up out of the sea of bodies coming towards them.
The next thing I know i am being herded on to a bus and there are ten Haitians who all are very happy to see me. They hug me, and laugh, and ask me in their best English what my name is, and how old I am. A twenty-something boy sits next to me, his name is Williams and once again as Juliet predicted, he starts to lay on the Haitian charm.
I am tired. I don't understand what any of them are saying- in English, French, or Creole!
Instead of being friendly I sit back, relax, and stare out the window.
It's dirty. Filthy. I mean I get mad when someone doesn't bother to throw away their pop bottle in the States! Why can't you just put your trash in the trash can? But this... this is beyond trash can fixable. Piles of used plastic bottles line the streets. Water ways are filled with all sorts of styrofoam and plastic products, clogged by waste. Skinny pigs stand on top of mounds of filth. King of the Castle, as they sift through trash, eating anything they think they can digest. Meat vendors, fruit sellers, make-shift clothing stores all line the streets in any crevice not previously occupied. Women carry heavy loads atop their heads, and men their backs turned to the streets, urinate on sides of buildings. Motorcycles weave in and out of traffic, and men walk along side our bus pushing plastic bags full of water in the windows yelling "Dlo!" Car horns honk, and music bumps along to the rhythm of the city.
I look on, unresponsive, barely registering all that is going on around me. I am partially spacing out because of exhaustion, but I am also just not prepared for what I am seeing. I think nothing. I just look at it all, as if it is on a television screen, and not my reality. Williams must have noticed my intense stare because he soon begins to ask me if I don't like his country. I immediately say that no, I of coarse like his country, but he persists, and continues to ask me what is wrong.
After what seemed like hours on the bus we arrive at the Orphanage, and are immediately greeted by tiny little faces with big white smiles, and fragile little hands that grab at mine, desperately groping my midsection just trying to find a hug. The sun is going down and Mona ushers us back to the round houses, where we will be staying for the week so we can unpack. After claiming a bed, Juliet, and the others who have been before climb the three floors to the roof so we can watch the sun go down. From the top of that roof is where I really began to fall in love. If I looked north I could see the beautiful blue green water floating a mere 50 feet from where I stood with mountains stretching out across the bay. If I stood and looked East I could see Port Au prince, building after building packed close together stretching for miles. If I stood facing the South I could see more buildings spotted across the hills and mountains that rose in front of me. Everywhere I looked amidst the filth and dust, I saw beauty sprawling out before me.
A few weeks ago, I was laying in bed at the O.M.S. and a song that I had heard on the radio before I left popped in to my head. The lyrics bounced back and forth around my brain
"You make beautiful things, you make beautiful things out of the Dust. You make beautiful things, you make beautiful things out of us."
And I could not sleep!! I just kept singing it over, and over! And it became my own personal theme for the week. But the best part was I heard someone else singing it the next day!
Amidst all of the pain, and suffering, and death, and dirt, and dust in Haiti, all who go there see beauty. God saw beauty the day he saved all of my friends from the Earthquake that killed hundreds of thousands. Every haitian I have ever met sees beauty, and perseveres despite their pain, and grief, and despair. They smile, and laugh, and move forward because that is the only way to survive. They celebrate their lives, and thank the Lord for all the good things he has given them, and all of the beauty that surrounds them.
I have just spent three weeks backpacking around Europe. I have seen so many beautiful things; from the pristine lakes and Alps of Switzerland, to the overwhelming halls of the Louvre in Paris stuffed with art. Italy, visited as a child and now revisited as an adult; I saw my favorites in museums and the Colosseum. To Barcelona where one dip in the ocean and you are covered in mysterious gold flecks.
Switzerland pampered, Italy with its graffiti and smelly trains disappointed, Spain was wonderful with its tapas, and Gaudi buildings everywhere, and France was unwillingly left behind having spent too little time. The taste of warm croissants, and flavorful gelato still linger on my tongue.
I am tired. So tired. Why did I agree to go to Haiti? I have been back home for less than a week. I miss Ryan, my cat, and my bed! There have been so many times in the past few days where i have almost called Juliet to tell her I don't want to go. I don't care, I just want to sleep.
But here I am climbing off a plane in the Caribbean. In to a stuffy yellow hallway I shuffle, and somewhere below me a band is playing. Julie claps and sways to the music and talks to anyone who will understand her "bonswa's" in Creole. I am tired. Now I am hot. As soon as we are through customs and baggage claim we are pushed out the door in to the blinding sunshine and as Juliet has warned- bombarded by French-ish speaking men in red and green plaid shirts, and khaki shorts trying to help me with my bags. I tell them no as nice as possible and push my way towards the gates where tons of brown faces are staring back at me waiting for a familiar face to pop up out of the sea of bodies coming towards them.
The next thing I know i am being herded on to a bus and there are ten Haitians who all are very happy to see me. They hug me, and laugh, and ask me in their best English what my name is, and how old I am. A twenty-something boy sits next to me, his name is Williams and once again as Juliet predicted, he starts to lay on the Haitian charm.
I am tired. I don't understand what any of them are saying- in English, French, or Creole!
Instead of being friendly I sit back, relax, and stare out the window.
It's dirty. Filthy. I mean I get mad when someone doesn't bother to throw away their pop bottle in the States! Why can't you just put your trash in the trash can? But this... this is beyond trash can fixable. Piles of used plastic bottles line the streets. Water ways are filled with all sorts of styrofoam and plastic products, clogged by waste. Skinny pigs stand on top of mounds of filth. King of the Castle, as they sift through trash, eating anything they think they can digest. Meat vendors, fruit sellers, make-shift clothing stores all line the streets in any crevice not previously occupied. Women carry heavy loads atop their heads, and men their backs turned to the streets, urinate on sides of buildings. Motorcycles weave in and out of traffic, and men walk along side our bus pushing plastic bags full of water in the windows yelling "Dlo!" Car horns honk, and music bumps along to the rhythm of the city.
I look on, unresponsive, barely registering all that is going on around me. I am partially spacing out because of exhaustion, but I am also just not prepared for what I am seeing. I think nothing. I just look at it all, as if it is on a television screen, and not my reality. Williams must have noticed my intense stare because he soon begins to ask me if I don't like his country. I immediately say that no, I of coarse like his country, but he persists, and continues to ask me what is wrong.
After what seemed like hours on the bus we arrive at the Orphanage, and are immediately greeted by tiny little faces with big white smiles, and fragile little hands that grab at mine, desperately groping my midsection just trying to find a hug. The sun is going down and Mona ushers us back to the round houses, where we will be staying for the week so we can unpack. After claiming a bed, Juliet, and the others who have been before climb the three floors to the roof so we can watch the sun go down. From the top of that roof is where I really began to fall in love. If I looked north I could see the beautiful blue green water floating a mere 50 feet from where I stood with mountains stretching out across the bay. If I stood and looked East I could see Port Au prince, building after building packed close together stretching for miles. If I stood facing the South I could see more buildings spotted across the hills and mountains that rose in front of me. Everywhere I looked amidst the filth and dust, I saw beauty sprawling out before me.
A few weeks ago, I was laying in bed at the O.M.S. and a song that I had heard on the radio before I left popped in to my head. The lyrics bounced back and forth around my brain
"You make beautiful things, you make beautiful things out of the Dust. You make beautiful things, you make beautiful things out of us."
And I could not sleep!! I just kept singing it over, and over! And it became my own personal theme for the week. But the best part was I heard someone else singing it the next day!
Amidst all of the pain, and suffering, and death, and dirt, and dust in Haiti, all who go there see beauty. God saw beauty the day he saved all of my friends from the Earthquake that killed hundreds of thousands. Every haitian I have ever met sees beauty, and perseveres despite their pain, and grief, and despair. They smile, and laugh, and move forward because that is the only way to survive. They celebrate their lives, and thank the Lord for all the good things he has given them, and all of the beauty that surrounds them.
Thursday, March 22, 2012
I found inspiration on Facebook- Really you should read this!
I have given a lot of thought to the subjects of my upcoming posts, and I want to tell you as much as possible about the trip I just took, but todays post is impromptu, and completely inspired by a quote my friend James just posted on Facebook.
"Life begins at the end of your comfort zone." Neale Donald Walsch
I didn't even have to think about this one, I instantly agreed, and now I am just sitting here reading it over and over, and smiling because it is so true. And James and his family would be the perfect people to live by this quote. At this very minute I am sitting on their couch, in charge of taking care of their house, their dog, rabbit, and six chickens, because two months ago, as a family (him, his wife and two kids), decided to pack up all the stuff they would need in to an unpredictably semi-functional VW Bus, on a 'I literally don't even know how long we will be gone' journey around the country.
I don't know about you, but that is definitely out of most people's comfort zone, and although I barely talk to them, except to ask questions about property lines, and how to get the rabbit to stop biting me, I know they are having the biggest and best adventure of their lives.
But enough about James, and his awesome 'go with the flow' family. I am so glad that he posted this quote because i completely agree that once I stepped out of my comfort zone I truly began to live.
People ask me all the time "What is Haiti like? Is it hard going down there?" And my answer is probably so disconcerting that I have a hard time convincing my own family that this is where I want to be! It is hot. It is always hot. I am almost always sweating. The mosquitos, at least during the summer months, are terrible! The first time I went, I got 16 mosquito bites on just my forearm! You have to be careful about getting Malaria, Typhoid, And now unfortunately to no fault of the Haitian people themselves, Cholera. You can't drink the water. You must be with a Haitian at all times. When you drive through the streets you can not avoid the piles of trash. When you step off the plane you may see palm trees swaying in the breeze, but you will smell pollution. The smell of burning trash will fill your nostrils, and when you leave and come back to the states, you will open your suitcase, and everything you packed will smell like burning trash, bug spray, sun tan lotion, and your own sweat.
I know this sounds terrible! I wouldn't want to go there either, but the problem is, I have already been there. And now when I step off the plane, and I breath deep the smells of burning trash, and other pollution, I smile, and breath a sigh of relief, because my heart is happy, and I am where I know I should be. I do not worry about Malaria, Typhoid, or Cholera. I know these things are all treatable, and I will be cautious, but I will not let it consume me with worry. Sweating, mosquito bites, general discomfort in having to wear clothes at all in that kind of weather- pa gen pwoblem (no problem). I don't drink the water, that's simple and easy to follow, and I know there will be drinkable water available to me when I get where I am going. As far as my safety is concerned, I trust that my Haitian friends, and God, will keep me safe. I have nothing to fear, and frankly the same rules apply in Ohio, if it is dark out, I am not going places on my own.
Nothing about what I have described is comforting. I have stories of devastation, and hunger, and abandonment. And yes all of those things are very sad to me. But I also see smiles, and laughter, and I hear the most beautiful music come from the mouths of children. And I know that my mere discomforts are not discomforting to them at all, but simply a way of life. And out of my comfort zone, I have never felt more at ease, and stress free.
"Life begins at the end of your comfort zone." Neale Donald Walsch
I didn't even have to think about this one, I instantly agreed, and now I am just sitting here reading it over and over, and smiling because it is so true. And James and his family would be the perfect people to live by this quote. At this very minute I am sitting on their couch, in charge of taking care of their house, their dog, rabbit, and six chickens, because two months ago, as a family (him, his wife and two kids), decided to pack up all the stuff they would need in to an unpredictably semi-functional VW Bus, on a 'I literally don't even know how long we will be gone' journey around the country.
I don't know about you, but that is definitely out of most people's comfort zone, and although I barely talk to them, except to ask questions about property lines, and how to get the rabbit to stop biting me, I know they are having the biggest and best adventure of their lives.
But enough about James, and his awesome 'go with the flow' family. I am so glad that he posted this quote because i completely agree that once I stepped out of my comfort zone I truly began to live.
People ask me all the time "What is Haiti like? Is it hard going down there?" And my answer is probably so disconcerting that I have a hard time convincing my own family that this is where I want to be! It is hot. It is always hot. I am almost always sweating. The mosquitos, at least during the summer months, are terrible! The first time I went, I got 16 mosquito bites on just my forearm! You have to be careful about getting Malaria, Typhoid, And now unfortunately to no fault of the Haitian people themselves, Cholera. You can't drink the water. You must be with a Haitian at all times. When you drive through the streets you can not avoid the piles of trash. When you step off the plane you may see palm trees swaying in the breeze, but you will smell pollution. The smell of burning trash will fill your nostrils, and when you leave and come back to the states, you will open your suitcase, and everything you packed will smell like burning trash, bug spray, sun tan lotion, and your own sweat.
I know this sounds terrible! I wouldn't want to go there either, but the problem is, I have already been there. And now when I step off the plane, and I breath deep the smells of burning trash, and other pollution, I smile, and breath a sigh of relief, because my heart is happy, and I am where I know I should be. I do not worry about Malaria, Typhoid, or Cholera. I know these things are all treatable, and I will be cautious, but I will not let it consume me with worry. Sweating, mosquito bites, general discomfort in having to wear clothes at all in that kind of weather- pa gen pwoblem (no problem). I don't drink the water, that's simple and easy to follow, and I know there will be drinkable water available to me when I get where I am going. As far as my safety is concerned, I trust that my Haitian friends, and God, will keep me safe. I have nothing to fear, and frankly the same rules apply in Ohio, if it is dark out, I am not going places on my own.
Nothing about what I have described is comforting. I have stories of devastation, and hunger, and abandonment. And yes all of those things are very sad to me. But I also see smiles, and laughter, and I hear the most beautiful music come from the mouths of children. And I know that my mere discomforts are not discomforting to them at all, but simply a way of life. And out of my comfort zone, I have never felt more at ease, and stress free.
Tuesday, March 20, 2012
Uh-oh, am I finally growing up?!
I would like to think that I have a pretty good grasp on how others may perceive me, and I can think of a few things I have been described as lately. I have always been known as 'quiet' or 'shy' and throughout the years the number one thing people have told me about how I am on mission trips is 'calm'. I am not quick to anger, and when something goes wrong I do not over-react or panic. (Maybe I am just really good at masking my emotion :)). But regardless my skills as a leader have never really been that great, or recognized, and in particular no one would ever consider me to have great maternal instincts. Two years ago if you had asked me what I thought about humans under the age of 12 I would have told you infants and toddlers were terrifying, preschoolers and 5 and 6 year olds didn't like me, and 7 to 12 year olds were just plain annoying! But during the past year and a half I have spent a lot more time with children, and I am most certainly warming up to them.
On our last night in Haiti we were all having a discussion, and Juliet posed the question; "If you could sum up the week in only a few words, what would they be?" And without hesitation I instantly thought of the word 'motherly'.
This is my 5th trip to Haiti, and on all of my other trips, my focus has been around learning the language, and getting to know the older kids because a) we could communicate a little better, and b) I hadn't really found children to be extremely interesting or entertaining. But on my 5th trip I found my self capable of carrying on a conversation in Creole, and even being able to understand some of the church sermon, songs being sung, and casual conversations going on around me. I was called upon to interpret for those who could not communicate, and I was able to understand what a little child wanted when they came up to me, grabbed my hand, looked at me with their big brown eyes, and asked something of me.
All of the high school age and young adults that I have come to know as my friends were extremely busy while we were there preparing for exams, or simply just having a life that didn't leave much time for the Blan that wanted to sit down and chat. So I was (happily) forced to turn all of my love and attention on the younger children- mostly who were not orphans at all, but the neighborhood kids who came for their daily meal, and our not-so-put-together Vacation Bible School. There were a few children in particular that I got to spend a lot of time with.
I should first mention my favorite kid at the Bon Berger (Good Shepherd) Andyson. Yes he is my favorite, and I pretty much give him anything he asks for, whether it be my camera, or candy. But I can't help it, from the moment we first hugged 2.5 years ago we have been close. If I could bring him home and give him everything I ever got as a child I would. If I could hug him every day, and remind him how much he is loved I would. But the orphanage is his home, and it is the best place for him, so I will have to keep coming back again and again to get hugs from him.
On Monday afternoon, after a morning of sanding concrete in the school Cafeteria I was sitting on a bench kind of zoning out waiting for VBS to start and a little boy and girl sat down next to me. There names were Titi (teetee) and Ginny, and they were brother and sister. Titi, the older brother grabbed my hand smiled at me with his big beautiful white teeth and said to me "Chante" (Sing). Now I am not very good at being put on the spot so I said to him "ou chante pou mwen" (you sing for me) and he began to sing in Creole 'Come Now is the Time to Worship'. A song that I know they had taught at the first VBS the UK group did 3 years ago! It was so beautiful to hear him sing it, I wished I could have sung it with them.
Sitting on that bench with us was also a small little boy with corn rows, and the whitest perfect little smile I have ever seen, and that is when I fell in love, and the little boy followed me around for a good deal of the week wanting me to swing him around by the arms, and pick him up. Unfortunately I don't know his name, because every time he told me it, he said it with such a high pitched little voice, and thick creole accent I couldn't understand him.
Now I am not saying my 'biological clock' is ticking or anything like that - the thought of having to grow one of those tiny little humans inside of me is still rather frightening for me, but being there, and being able to show these children love and care that I know they deserve is something I haven't really had much experience with before.
On our last night in Haiti we were all having a discussion, and Juliet posed the question; "If you could sum up the week in only a few words, what would they be?" And without hesitation I instantly thought of the word 'motherly'.
This is my 5th trip to Haiti, and on all of my other trips, my focus has been around learning the language, and getting to know the older kids because a) we could communicate a little better, and b) I hadn't really found children to be extremely interesting or entertaining. But on my 5th trip I found my self capable of carrying on a conversation in Creole, and even being able to understand some of the church sermon, songs being sung, and casual conversations going on around me. I was called upon to interpret for those who could not communicate, and I was able to understand what a little child wanted when they came up to me, grabbed my hand, looked at me with their big brown eyes, and asked something of me.
All of the high school age and young adults that I have come to know as my friends were extremely busy while we were there preparing for exams, or simply just having a life that didn't leave much time for the Blan that wanted to sit down and chat. So I was (happily) forced to turn all of my love and attention on the younger children- mostly who were not orphans at all, but the neighborhood kids who came for their daily meal, and our not-so-put-together Vacation Bible School. There were a few children in particular that I got to spend a lot of time with.
I should first mention my favorite kid at the Bon Berger (Good Shepherd) Andyson. Yes he is my favorite, and I pretty much give him anything he asks for, whether it be my camera, or candy. But I can't help it, from the moment we first hugged 2.5 years ago we have been close. If I could bring him home and give him everything I ever got as a child I would. If I could hug him every day, and remind him how much he is loved I would. But the orphanage is his home, and it is the best place for him, so I will have to keep coming back again and again to get hugs from him.
On Monday afternoon, after a morning of sanding concrete in the school Cafeteria I was sitting on a bench kind of zoning out waiting for VBS to start and a little boy and girl sat down next to me. There names were Titi (teetee) and Ginny, and they were brother and sister. Titi, the older brother grabbed my hand smiled at me with his big beautiful white teeth and said to me "Chante" (Sing). Now I am not very good at being put on the spot so I said to him "ou chante pou mwen" (you sing for me) and he began to sing in Creole 'Come Now is the Time to Worship'. A song that I know they had taught at the first VBS the UK group did 3 years ago! It was so beautiful to hear him sing it, I wished I could have sung it with them.
Sitting on that bench with us was also a small little boy with corn rows, and the whitest perfect little smile I have ever seen, and that is when I fell in love, and the little boy followed me around for a good deal of the week wanting me to swing him around by the arms, and pick him up. Unfortunately I don't know his name, because every time he told me it, he said it with such a high pitched little voice, and thick creole accent I couldn't understand him.
Now I am not saying my 'biological clock' is ticking or anything like that - the thought of having to grow one of those tiny little humans inside of me is still rather frightening for me, but being there, and being able to show these children love and care that I know they deserve is something I haven't really had much experience with before.
Friday, March 9, 2012
Here we Go!
The time has come! Tomorrow afternoon I will be stepping off a plane in the tropical country of Haiti! I will do my best to post as many blogs as I can during the week I am there, and I just want to thank all of you who have supported me. I can't even tell you how many bracelets I have made in the past year (or how many times I have super glued my fingers together) But I hope all of you who have received a bracelet have been happy with the product. Thank you again for everything!
Thursday, February 23, 2012
Last Chance!
Hey everyone! Everything is falling in to place, and a group from UK and myself will be headed for Haiti in less than 3 weeks! This means this is your last chance to help us out before we go! I have been working hard trying to make tons of bracelets and I am ready to sell them to whom ever is ready and willing to buy! Please just send me a quick e-mail or message on facebook telling me the color, and size of bracelet that you would like to buy, and I can send them your way! (And if you just want to send me a donation because you believe I will do good with it, then that's cool to :)
Thank you so much everyone for all of your encouragement and support, I hope to hear from some of you soon!
Thank you so much everyone for all of your encouragement and support, I hope to hear from some of you soon!
Wednesday, February 8, 2012
"American" problems
A few nights ago we were watching a comedian on television, and he started going on and on about the silly things people get mad about. For example he told a story about how he was on a plane and when the first boarded the plane the flight attendants had announced that they would have privilege to use wi-fi. Now at the time he was on the plane this was a brand new service, and he was all excited, and amazed at how well it worked, and then something happened and the wi-fi malfunctioned. So the flight attendant made an announcement that they had had a technical difficulty with the wi-fi, and it would no longer be accessible for the duration of the flight. Suddenly everyone on the flight was angry, and complaining, and the guy sitting next to him started commenting on how unbelievable it was that something like this could happen! So then the comedian goes on to tell the rest of the joke about how he thought the miracle was that they were able to fly magically through the air, and in what used to take years to get from New York to Los Angelos now only took a matter of hours!
So eventually the whole point he was trying to make was that us Americans have what he called "American" problems. That our privileged country could not see the difference between a real hardship, and the so called problems we have that inconvenience our very easy-to-live lives.
And I believe he is correct. Even as I write this I am incredibly annoyed by the large dog trying to lay in my lap. How could I possibly be annoyed by an animal that is just trying to get a little love and attention?
Now this is not the first time that I have had to check my self and realize that what I was getting so upset over, was merely a minor detail rather than a catastrophic event. It has been nearly 5 years since my Dad died, and believe me, I have had a lot of time to ask 'Why me?' and think about how horrible life can be. But from all of that I have tried my best to be more positive. I am definitely not saying that life is a Bowl Full of Cherries, and I am sure most of you who have met me, or spent any time around me in the past 5 years knows that I don't walk around with a big old smile on my face ALL the time, commenting on how wonderful it is to be here. Perhaps most of my reflection is inward, and I simply just try and remind myself that I have had worse days, and the people i have met in the last 3 years have pretty much lived what most of us would consider a life time of Hell.
I am pretty sure most of you know I am talking about my friends in Haiti, when I say the people I have met in the past 3 years. But if you could only hear some of the stories of the things some of the children I have met have had to deal with, you would know that there are bigger problems in life and those 'less fortunate' have done a much better job coping than any of us could ever even begin to try. And the losses that they have accumulated have not only happened since the Earthquake in 2010, but have been happening their entire lives.
When greeting someone in Haiti I think it is custom to ask that person some basic question, depending on the time of day. For example when you are greeting someone in the morning you generally begin with 'Good Morning', 'How are you?', and 'How did you sleep?'. Now I often get asked questions like 'Did you eat?' and 'How is your health?' But almost every day someone is sure to ask me 'How is your mother?' and 'How is your father?'. So one day I was walking along with one of the younger boys and he asked me this 'How is your mother?' and I said 'she is fine' and then he asked 'How is your father?' and I said 'I don't have a father, he is dead' (I know it sounds a little blunt, but I am saying this in creole, and I am not sure the nice ways to say things like that so I just said it) So this little boy absorbed what I said, and with hardly any remorse, he asked me the next question as if it were the most obvious of ways to die. 'Was he shot?' I was obviously taken aback by this question, and I simply said 'No, he was sick' and the boy said okay.
I have always been affected by the casualness of this conversation. But then I started to think about stories I have heard about what some of the kids have gone through. I certainly don't know this particular boys story, but it's suffice to say that being shot, especially in some neighborhoods of Port Au Prince is a more common occurrence. By saying all of this I don't want to scare you, especially if you have been to Haiti are considering taking a trip, but I just want to point out that death, and starvation, and slavery, and rapes, and all the scary things that we try so hard to protect ourselves from are a reality in a great deal of the world. Things happen every day that are unimaginable to us, and we are simply too ignorant to know what is really going on, or too scared to learn the truth. Regardless, us Americans, Canadians, most Europeans - us upper- middle class, and even a great deal of lower class in these countries are too preoccupied to really notice a genuine problem from a simple inconvenience.
I will always get angry. I will always find things that are unimportant, but equally annoying. But I just hope that I can do my best to realize when I am overreacting or just simply remember that things could be a lot worse.
So eventually the whole point he was trying to make was that us Americans have what he called "American" problems. That our privileged country could not see the difference between a real hardship, and the so called problems we have that inconvenience our very easy-to-live lives.
And I believe he is correct. Even as I write this I am incredibly annoyed by the large dog trying to lay in my lap. How could I possibly be annoyed by an animal that is just trying to get a little love and attention?
Now this is not the first time that I have had to check my self and realize that what I was getting so upset over, was merely a minor detail rather than a catastrophic event. It has been nearly 5 years since my Dad died, and believe me, I have had a lot of time to ask 'Why me?' and think about how horrible life can be. But from all of that I have tried my best to be more positive. I am definitely not saying that life is a Bowl Full of Cherries, and I am sure most of you who have met me, or spent any time around me in the past 5 years knows that I don't walk around with a big old smile on my face ALL the time, commenting on how wonderful it is to be here. Perhaps most of my reflection is inward, and I simply just try and remind myself that I have had worse days, and the people i have met in the last 3 years have pretty much lived what most of us would consider a life time of Hell.
I am pretty sure most of you know I am talking about my friends in Haiti, when I say the people I have met in the past 3 years. But if you could only hear some of the stories of the things some of the children I have met have had to deal with, you would know that there are bigger problems in life and those 'less fortunate' have done a much better job coping than any of us could ever even begin to try. And the losses that they have accumulated have not only happened since the Earthquake in 2010, but have been happening their entire lives.
When greeting someone in Haiti I think it is custom to ask that person some basic question, depending on the time of day. For example when you are greeting someone in the morning you generally begin with 'Good Morning', 'How are you?', and 'How did you sleep?'. Now I often get asked questions like 'Did you eat?' and 'How is your health?' But almost every day someone is sure to ask me 'How is your mother?' and 'How is your father?'. So one day I was walking along with one of the younger boys and he asked me this 'How is your mother?' and I said 'she is fine' and then he asked 'How is your father?' and I said 'I don't have a father, he is dead' (I know it sounds a little blunt, but I am saying this in creole, and I am not sure the nice ways to say things like that so I just said it) So this little boy absorbed what I said, and with hardly any remorse, he asked me the next question as if it were the most obvious of ways to die. 'Was he shot?' I was obviously taken aback by this question, and I simply said 'No, he was sick' and the boy said okay.
I have always been affected by the casualness of this conversation. But then I started to think about stories I have heard about what some of the kids have gone through. I certainly don't know this particular boys story, but it's suffice to say that being shot, especially in some neighborhoods of Port Au Prince is a more common occurrence. By saying all of this I don't want to scare you, especially if you have been to Haiti are considering taking a trip, but I just want to point out that death, and starvation, and slavery, and rapes, and all the scary things that we try so hard to protect ourselves from are a reality in a great deal of the world. Things happen every day that are unimaginable to us, and we are simply too ignorant to know what is really going on, or too scared to learn the truth. Regardless, us Americans, Canadians, most Europeans - us upper- middle class, and even a great deal of lower class in these countries are too preoccupied to really notice a genuine problem from a simple inconvenience.
I will always get angry. I will always find things that are unimportant, but equally annoying. But I just hope that I can do my best to realize when I am overreacting or just simply remember that things could be a lot worse.
Friday, February 3, 2012
“You may never know what results come of your action, but if you do nothing there will be no result” Gandhi
I am sure most will not agree with me when I say that it has been a long and arduous winter. When I say this I am not talking about blistering temperatures, or perilous driving conditions. I do not speak of long hours spent toiling away at some difficult and mind numbing job just to scrape by, but rather I speak of the failures I have experienced in the past few months.
I do not wish to make anyone feel pity for me, but I want to just merely state that my naivete in believing that wanting to do something good for someone else would in turn ultimately result in the act of doing good for someone else.
I was wrong.
I have learned that I can not force good deeds. I can not bring an idea to a group of people, with every good intention, and believe just because I see the beauty and practical implication of what I am saying, that they will go along with it. I can not convince any one of anything, whether it be the true color of the sky, or the actual existence of God. But faith alone must guide them.
'Practicing what one preaches' is where the practical application of faith goes astray. It is easy to say that one must merely have faith in order to exist happily in this world. I believe that the human mind does not work this way, and if God did not want me to question what was right and wrong for me, then I would not have been given the choice to do so.
I struggle with this concept every day, especially when dealing with people. I try and have faith that everyone is motivated to do things for the greater good, instead of personal gain, but I know that is just simply not true. On the other hand I believe there are many good people, who live virtuous lives, trying their best not to do wrong, but have never really put much thought in to how much of a difference they could make. The fear of being put in to a situation that can not insure their complete and total comfort and safety hinders them from truly living. I can say there have been many times in my life that my fear of harm has overpowered my faith. Every time I go climbing outside I become so afraid of the possible things that could go wrong that I never fully accomplish what I set out to do. But then some times I think 'why does this one act scare me so much, when so many other things I do every day are life threatening?!' I drive in my car, I drive my car while texting, I get in airplanes, I eat junk food, processed sugar and other foods that have been linked to cancer, I lay out in the sun simply because I like to be tan, I drink alcohol, etc., etc. There are so many things in life that are lurking around every corner just waiting to kill me, so how can I possible cope? This must mean I at least have some inkling of faith that no matter what happens things will be okay, and when it comes to weighing my options of finding some happiness in taking small risks, or simply living- I choose risks, and some I choose for the greater good and out of love and compassion I have for zami'm.
As Gandhi would say:
“The difference between what we do and what we are capable of doing would suffice to solve most of the world's problems”
Last night i was driving in my car and on the radio a man was talking about letter's that Abigail Adams wrote to her son John Quincy Adams. The man was talking about how as Christians we must be willing to let our children explore the world in a way best suited for them, and have faith that no matter what happens to them everything will be okay. In the letter Abigail is writing to her 9 year old son who has just taken a voyage across the sea to France where he will be for the next few years for his education. She writes about how, as a mother, she is very concerned for the safety of her child, but knows that the opportunity for him to acquire the best education possible is the right thing to do, and she hopes that he will take advantage of his education, and learn as much as he can in the time he has alloted. Some of the things she wrote really resonated with me, and I quote "It is not in the still calm of life, that great characters are formed" She says that sitting idly by waiting for something to happen will result in more waiting and she goes on to say "The habits of a vigorous mind are formed in contending with difficulties. All history will convince you of this, and that wisdom and penetration are the fruit of experience, not the lessons of retirement and leisure. Great necessities call out great virtues. When a mind is raised and animated by scenes that engage the heart, then those qualities, which would otherwise lie dormant, wake into life and form the character of the hero and the statesman."
Now I write all of this in order to convince you of my undying faith in what God is helping me to do in Haiti. When I went there the first time in 2009, my mind was animated by scenes that engaged my heart and woke in me the need to do more for those that I love. Now what I am not saying is that YOU must join me. My passion and convictions are not your own. I write this to inform you that you can do better. I can do better. There is always more that can be done to improve things in the world, and when I first realized this I started with simple acts like opening a door for someone, or picking up a piece of trash. We can always do better, no matter what has motivated us to do so.
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