St. Michel I remember St. Michel as being near the ocean and therefore susceptible to flooding, standing water and mud. Back then, we took a walk into the neighborhood and saw how they threw their garbage into the pond with the intent of making land one day. Today, however, we do not return to that place. We are told that the airport wanted to expand and so they were asked to relocate. Today’s clinic is held in their new home. There are lovely, old trees to shade our way; a covered porch and small building for a kitchen. The children have gathered and welcome us with their Welcome song and words before we begin. We are back to the crew with which we began this week: Dr. M, Kelly and I with the charming addition of JP. Now, however, we are well practiced and the flow is easy and relaxed. We end up seeing 33 darlings. As is often the case, we encounter a few snags at the end. As we were coming down to the last few, a mom joined the gathering holding her inconsolable baby. I was well aware of her presence but involved with the children in front of me. JP came and told me he thought she wanted her baby to be seen though she did not ask. The child looked like a difficult case so I hoped that Dr. M or Kelly might see her. When I saw my last child and mom was still struggling, I brought her over to me. The baby’s face and body were covered in a rash that was infected and obviously painful. Much to my surprise, she quieted when I took her in my arms; her sweet face looking up at me as if with pleading eyes. I gave her doses of comfort meds, in hopes of easing her distress; gave mom several others and some applesauce to ease their entry; and sang a song and rocked. When mom left with her, she was on her way to nap land and all of us involved breathed a breath of relief. It is not always that an inconsolable child can be comforted. Though I thought someone else would have been better equipped to care for her, it was lovely to be the one called. Monday, July 01, 2013 Final Entries Cap Haitian: 0545am It is earliest morning just before the dawn. The hotel is dark and cool. A soft breeze flutters the table cloths and the birds awaken the sun with their crescendoing birdsong. It is time to go home. Our hotel, the Roi Christophe, is a grand old, fort-like place straight out of a Bogie movie or Somerset Maugham novel. Open to the air, the tropical foliage and balmy breezes cocoon this secluded retreat from the chaos of the city just beyond the walls. The floors are tile, the ceilings high, furniture of dark wood with a veranda of chairs that rock and nooks for reclining. We pass a lush garden in the center of the lobby area surrounded by water stained walls open to the second floor balconies. Wooden shutters flung wide to welcome weary travelers and, this morning, send us on our way. The tall ancient trees with enormous, thick branches raised to the still dark sky ready themselves to release us. We fly from Cap Haitian to Port-au-Prince and then to Miami where we will part: Kelly to Phoenix and I to my Mama’s house in St. Louis. It promises to be a bittersweet day. Miami 7pm The clouds line up in the grey sky above Miami International Airport as the darkness of day’s end descends. We left Cap Haitian decades ago. I sit alone and await my flight. I have not been idle despite the 8 hour layover. As we boarded the plane in Port-au-Prince, we stopped to help a man and his baby. James and his 5 month old baby girl, Neev, are traveling today from Haiti to Sydney, Australia to visit Grandma. James works for the International Red Cross and has been living in Haiti since the earthquake. He also rides a motorcycle which he had the misfortune of crashing. As a result, he is traveling with an arm in a sling and his tiny one in a stroller. He may be insane but then again he did board a plane with Kelly and me on it. We became best of friends and walked the Miami airport together, singing and dancing, Neev and I, that is. Kelly and James were kind enough to indulge me. I suspect they will find help along the way. She is the loveliest of beegie boos. Final thoughts “The voyage of discovery consists not in seeking new landscapes but in having new eyes.” M. Proust “…It is the dark suffering’s umbilical cord that alone can untether new life…because in the emptiness we have the opportunity to turn to God…and there find all the fullness of joy.” ~Ann Voskamp: One Thousand Gifts~ I began this journey with considerations of perspective. How perspective can change everything. How, from my plane’s perch, the ocean seemed all smoothing in its cloud shadowed purity. I wondered what would happen to that perspective if I were down there lost in an ocean of need? Well, I’ve been down there, as it turns out. There is an ocean of need. Yet my voyage of discovery, thankfully, does not stop there. Every time I am faced with an ocean of need, I am given the choice of turning to God with my perceptions or keeping my doubt to myself. I am given the opportunity to seek His eyes amidst the suffering of this difficult and complicated place. I am invited into dialogue with He Who alone has the power to untether the new life promised when we turn from the darkness of our perspectives to the light of Him Who holds the answers. I serve a mighty God and though, my ways are not His ways, He, continues nonetheless, to invite me to seek His eyes. God is good…all the time. It’s just that most of the time, we require new eyes, His. ~~~~~~ I am off to India in October. Until then, thanks for sharing this voyage of discovery with me.
Posted on: Wed, 03 Jul 2013 13:49:04 +0000
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