Tuesday, October 11, 2016

Visiting more friends and loved ones today. Marie Claude is well and happy. Her roof is totally gone and her clothes are lying on pieces of rubble to dry. She is her same wonderful joyful self. Her feet are always bare because she says she likes to feel the earth beneath her feet. I hug her and hold her hand. She smiles and tells me how everything happened. She is happy her sons are there fixing her roof. She tells me what a good job they are doing and that she lost five geese. Her coconut trees are uprooted and destroyed. I grew up drinking coconut juice from these trees. She says that with Jesus she is well.

The complete top half of four square orphanage is gone. The children were singing and praying and ran down stairs right before the wind took their entire roof and beds away. Only one of their sweet bunkbeds is still there and standing. Darlin brought all of them to her house. There are 57 orphans now.

Poppyseed and I head to her house on the back of Ruguens and Jacques motorcycles to find the kids. They have lost their parents and now they have lost everything they own--all of their previous belongings. We are welcomed with hugs and kisses and joyful screams. I wish my arms were longer. I'm so happy to see these beautiful faces. "Mama Kate!! Mama Kate!!" I wish I was. I wish I was. "M pap janm bliye manman'm," which translates to "I'll never forget my mom." I should have been here with them.

Poppyseed leaves soon. We are waiting for Jon at the "airport." I ask Poppyseed how he feels about everything. He sighs and says, "I don't know Bait. I don't know. It boils down to money. Every single time." Please don't forget Haiti. Don't forget these people. Donate. Please. 

While we wait for Jon, I sing for the Haitian soldiers. I feel like I've stepped back in time. I feel like I'm in WWII. Someone once told me, "You don't sing just to sing. It's deeper than that. You sing because it makes your soul happy." I'll never forget that because it's true. And in this moment, singing for these uniformed men pretending to be tough, my soul is happy. I watch them as I sing and their eyes soften.

...

Visiting Ti Vag. I have never been so happy to see this crazy man. I'm so happy to see him and Sabrina. She says she wants to speak with me privately and as soon as we are alone she grabs me and hugs me so tight. We sit and she cries, laying her head on my shoulder. Haitians rarely break down like this so it immediately moved me. She says she is discouraged and she doesn't know how they will ever recover. I don't know either, but I know that these people are strong and creative and will find a way. Sabrina looks at me with tears in her eyes, and asks me to take her son. She asks me to take Edward because she said there is no life for him here. She says she is discouraged and doesn't know how they will ever recover. As I was about to respond, Ti Vag came in and I couldn't say what I wanted to. I will tomorrow. That hit me more than anything today. Imagine loving your child enough to give them away. Precious Edward laughing and running around without a care in the world. His mom has no idea how much she means to him and how much he needs her. All the material things in the world wouldn't compare to his mother's love. Tomorrow I hope to let her know that.

...

Jacques and I leave the airport and get bags of rice and cooking oil that his fiance has prepared for us to take to the people who are completely without. While Jacques distributes food, I ask if anyone has wounds that need bandaging. I figured on four people... four hours later I'm still cleaning and bandaging wounds. Some wounds I have to cut open because they have closed over infection. I set up a station and the line begins.

What a wonderful line. My small table covered in supplies and my sweet people waiting patiently. I work until I'm working from flashlight.

Manel has wanted me to visit his home all day and even though the sun is setting I know it's important that I go. I stand up from my work and look at the trail we will be hiking. The smoke is so thick you can see it in the dark.   I follow Manel through little alleyways. The water has washed away the hillsides, leaving them steep and slippery. Small fires sprinkle the mountainside. I can barely see through the smoke and darkness. He reaches his home which is now a few pillars with a tarp over the top. All of their things blew away and the ground is rough and rocky. I ask where they sleep and mama Manel says, "right here." They sleep in the dirt cuddled close together. All eight of them. I wonder how they did last night in the rain. They have a small fire with a cooking pot over top of it. It glows bright red against the night. I bring them around the outside so others can't see and I give them what I can. My boot slips on the side of the cliff as does a little boy, and I grab his hand. I see his bright white smile, and scoop him up. I wish I could hold you forever.