Day 24: 6 Months

The past few blogs have been very long. Today’s will be very short. Not much needs to be said - today speaks for itself.

Six months. It has been six months since a 37 second earthquake destroyed thousands of homes, took far too many lives, and tore apart hearts across the world. It’s hard to believe it’s only been six months. On the other hand, I feel the earth has barely moved around the sun. Time is like that. Memories feels close, almost tangible while in the same breath they appear as an object caught in a glance in your rearview mirror. I guess everything has two sides. A positive and a negative. Haiti has come so far, and yet not far enough. Hearts are still bleeding open but so many are in the process of mending.

I felt very privileged and humbled to be in Leogane on this landmark occasion. I was aware in that moment that I would not know the effect this day would have on me until long after I’m gone. I did realize, however, how deeply time can heal your wounds.

It has been six months since my own heartbreak. And I have found that I, too, have healed more than expected. I didn't realize it until today - looking back. Funny how things have a way of mending when you take your mind off of them. Funny how hearts heal the most when you're trying to heal the heart of someone else.

Day 18: The Illusion of Safety

People often compare their hurt to other’s. Comments such as “yes, I may be suffering but there are people in the world who have no homes or no food.” It’s easy to downplay your conditions based on worldly conditions. But I think it is a very thin, and most times hardly visible line, which separates perspective from reality. I once read in a book something that has stuck with me for many years since. The lead character, whose husband was away at war, was missing him terribly. She feared daily for his life but felt guilty for this since there were many women who had actually lost their husbands in the war. Her father asked her if she cut her thumb and someone else cut her thumb off, would that make the pain she’s feeling less real because it wasn’t her whole thumb. I have meditated on that many nights since. We may not be suffering as much as many others around the world, but that doesn’t mean our suffering doesn’t exist or isn’t valid. I am learning more and more that suffering is suffering no matter what form it comes in. A broken heart may show it’s ugly face in millions of different masks, but a broken heart is it still. Though, in our pain, it is important to keep some perspective, and that is where the very thin, almost invisible line appears. I still have no idea when I cross it. Do you?

This morning I woke to the terrible news that one of the younger international volunteers, who sleeps two tents away from mine, suffered a horrific family tragedy. I was affected by it all day; devastated by how affected by it he must be. It is easy to believe you live in a bubble where bad things don’t occur. It’s even easier to believe that when you’re in a place half a world away helping other people heal their pain. It just doesn’t seem right. Then again it never does. But you don’t think such terrible news can reach you so far away. As if you’ve crossed outside it’s dreadful borders and beyond it’s grasp. But the truth is you never are far from it, never far enough. And hurt is hurt, no matter where you are; no matter what form it comes in. Hurt is hurt. Whether by earthquake or by phone call at 2am. Hurt, dear reader, knows no border and no language barrier.

…

On a lighter note. The orphanage had another successful day. It’s amazing to watch the kids grow. To see how much they remember and their excitement at knowing answers. When I’m exhausted and worn down and sometimes even dreading the amount of energy it will take to teach at the orphanage, these children always lift me up. In their bare feet with their smiling faces they inspire in me a strength that I didn’t know was there and an energy I thought was exasperated. I always leave the orphanage completely void of all oomph, but I rest assured that that oomph was left in good hands.

As a teacher, there is no greater compliment than to hear that children respond well to you and that you have a great control of the environment. Because as a teacher there is nothing worse than losing control of your class. It made all the exhaustion of lesson planning time well spent to have the director of the orphanage compliment the success of the new format of the orphanage and plead with me not to leave but to stay permanently with them. If only loans and debt did not exist. If only…

Day 13: Heartbreak

It’s been almost two weeks and today was the first day I cried.

There are moments in your life that even the most optimistic viewpoint can’t break through. A few miserable seconds that can destroy your heart without mercy. They don’t happen often. They don’t last long. But their effects ripple into so many parts of your soul you wonder where and when they will show up. Because believe me, sooner or later it’s icy grip always stretches for your throat.

I’d love to write every day and be able to show you all the beauty bursting from inside the ugliness. To be in such devastation and yet find signs of rebirth everywhere. And most days that is true and that is possible. Most days, except today. It has been almost two weeks. That’s two weeks of not sleeping (that’s not Haiti, that just me being a terrible sleeper no matter where I am), two weeks of hard physical labor, two weeks of not getting enough protein and iron to support a body doing so much physical labor, two weeks of living in such an emotionally painful and beautiful country. And it was the hottest it’s been since I’ve arrived (somewhere in the 100’s with humidity so thick you could cut it with a knife.) Needless to say a lot has been building up.

I like to share most things with you. Give you a real taste of what it’s like down here. Who the people are. What their community is about. How they are surviving and healing. How they are still hurting. But there are some things that should never be shared. There are some experiences that no one should witness. And if for some unfortunate reason they do, it is their duty to shelter others from it. Not everything needs to be revealed. Not all hurt is healed through expression.

I don’t know what else to write tonight. I’m having a hard time seeing through the lens of my broken heart. The rain hasn’t fallen in three days. But tonight in between bites of rice, the rain fell deep inside my soul.