Day 12: Anyone Up There?

This morning my closest friend on base left for the DR before heading home. Her and I rode in together in the truck from the airport and have been inseparable ever since. It was a sad day, indeed.

There are many reasons to believe God doesn’t exist. If you look around this country it’s hard to imagine there is some divine being above. All the destruction, sadness, loss, and hurt. But, if you look closely it’s impossible not to see God everywhere. Little gifts given just to us to help us through, to show us love, to remind us we aren’t alone. Jen was one of those gifts. Had she not rode on the same truck as me, we would never have been as close as we were. She got me through many of the tough days and stuck beside me even when I was my demanding self. I don’t know what this experience would’ve been like if we hadn’t been at each others' side the entire time. She was a true blessing. Proof someone knows what I need even when I don’t.

I look around Haiti and despite all the damage there is so much faith. People moving on despite all they have lost. Hearts slowly mending after being brutally torn apart. It’s easy to look around and see only pain. But if you really look, God’s fingerprints are everywhere. Everyday these people get up and live another day. That alone is a miracle. That alone is proof there is something more.

…

We worked on a site with about 20 kids running around barefoot in between huge pieces of rubble and over sharp pieces of metal as if it were merely grass. I got a hold of a balloon and instantly had each and everyone of their attention. Oh balloons. Genius -whoever created them. The children went ballistic for it. In between popped balloons they begged to help with the wheel barrel. The path from the site to the spot where the rubble was being dumped was quite a trek. But the children would hold the wheel barrel on the sides and help navigate it all the way to the site. Then three or four (depending on how small they were) would jump inside and we’d push them back. Who needs Cedar Point when you have a wheel barrel? They had so much fun. I had so much fun. One little boy without pants (oh, Haiti, and their naked children) was shyer than the others and cute enough to eat. He liked to lead the wheel barrel from near the front when all the others were busy doing something else. He liked to pretend he was the only pushing this heavy thing without any help. We’d dump it together and then he’d push it back himself – this contraption that was 4 times his size. I’m thoroughly dying with anticipation to show you a picture of this adorable scene. I smiled watching his little bare legs bounce along the rubble road, wheel barrel flying out of control, and once again seeing another handiwork from above.

I also forgot to mention yesterday that we finished the site we had been working on since the first week (the one where the 5 family members were buried and unburied without any causalities.) This was my first completed site. I remembered looking at all the rubble and thinking it would never get done. And then there I stood on a clean piece of slab ready for a temporary shelter for the two families that had been living in IDP tent camps. I couldn’t imagine it being finished. I couldn’t imagine how it would heal. Slowly but surely it did, though. One day at a time. One morning at a time. One piece of rubble at a time. That clean slate reminded me that all things heal eventually. One tiny piece of your heart at a time, all things heal. No heart stays broken forever.

What a feeling! I wish I could see the tent “house” go up. It’s unknown when that will happen. All I know is that we paved the way for it. The homeowner could not have been more grateful. But how do you ever explain to someone whose home turned into a 10 foot pile of rubble and then was completely cleared by some strange blans from a far away country that the pleasure was in fact all yours?