Hope in the Hands of Community

This morning Veniel met us as usual, and surprised us by bringing some incredible Haitian coffee that cleared the cobwebs in our brains and sent our pulse galloping along. I don't know if it was the caffeine jolt or fatigue setting in, but Patrick and I both felt emotional as the sun rose and we headed to church.

We went with Veniel to his community church up the mountain that was jam-packed with people already mid prayer by the time we arrived. We came in the clothes we've both been wearing for several days, no ties or skirts or nice shoes. But no one looked twice. The church was packed, and as emotional as Haitian church services can be, I've never been in one with so much soul-filled prayer, heart-sick singing, or meaningfull leadership by the pastors. Hands raised. Sorrow released through song. I also have never felt so held up by a community as the safety and song of the church loosed our defenses and allowed tears to flow.

I have a friend who reminded me that God "steels our souls" for difficult, traumatic times that allow us to keep going, to put one foot in front of the other. In church today a little of that steel cracked... for all of us. Tears flowed as we sang "some day we'll understand." Veniel's family was there, and his 4 year-old daughter V. wrapped her arms and legs around her daddy as he let down briefly with tears. She gently patted his head, stroking his neck, a 4 year-old comforting a father who has been nothing but a steel ship for so many people, attending to business sun up to sun down, taking care of both the alive and the dead. Today, in the arms of his child, he was able to release a little of the pain heavy in his heart.

Church today was what we all needed... a community reaching for each other more than I've ever felt in church before. I thought of all the prayers going up around the world for Haiti, the incredible outpouring of love we've felt from family, friends and those we haven't yet met. I lifted up the faces of my students, the staff who I enjoyed working together with over the last year, for the suffering hearts of so many who have lost family, friends, jobs and health. Today I never once felt like an outsider, never caught a curious look my way... only understanding, the shared kisses on the cheek, handshakes and hugs from virtual strangers bonded together under a shared experience. Patrick was introduced unexpectedly, and in his 4-day-old jeans and raggedy stained sweatshirt, he addressed the congregation with love and understanding flowing straight from his heart.

Although going to church felt like a diversion in a day with so many people to reach, so much to do, it was exactly what we all needed to steel ourselves again for our work ahead.

On this morning's drive down the mountain, we passed people congregating outside of what was left of their church... one wall or a window, praying, singing, worshiping together. Today I'm happy to say foreign aid was more visiable from everything to UN trucks full of rescue workers with badges identifying their countries of origin: India, Peru, France, Spain, the Dominican Republic, China, Canada, the US, Porta Rico. Many more we know to be working behind the scenes, in the shells of buildings in make-shift emergency centers. Yet the visibility was good to see today.

Today after dropping Veniel off at the guest house, Patrick and I went to Solomon's orphanage to check on the kids because we had gotten news that their supplies were running low and security was at risk.

We entered into the orphanage to find all the children camping in tents and under a overhang. Although a little dirtier than usually, all seemed to be in high spirits, oblivious to the worry their leaders had. Pierre told Patrick that they were running short of supplies, were out of formula for the babies and drinkable water was running low. They were worried about a few of the infants sick with diarrhea and not having IV supplies or rehydration mix to help. Sofoni and her entire family was seeking refuge there, helping with the children. She was thrilled to hold Solomon after throwing up her hands in thanks for his safety and life. We spent several hours just holding kids, helping attend to crying babies, giving hugs, tickling and listening to jokes. Patrick and Pierre worked to coordinate efforts to receive supplies arriving tomorrow by plane from CCAI. While we were there a Salvation Army truck pulled in and passed out crackers to all the kids along with cans of ensure. A CBS media team were there and taping the distribution as well as interviewing some of the orphanage staff. There were rumors going around about visas being granted for the orphans and an evacuation being coordinated for all. In the mean time, the Salvation Army volunteers were hoping to find a safer place to harbor the children during the waiting period. The beautiful thing about such tragedies is that there is no such thing as strangers amongst people working together for a common goal--health and well-being of people, young and old.

The children played on and around benches under shade from the hot sun. The babies were all kept on mattresses on the floor of a delivery truck; three women attended to the 26 infants, keeping a constant rotation of diaper changes, feedings and soothing. One woman sat with two babies on her lap, one to be soothed and another drinking from a bottle. The toddlers were kept in small camping tents to keep them out of the dirt. Others were kept together in a large crib where they slept together, played together and erupted in universal cries prompted by one another. The older children of the orphanage were helping attend to the little ones, bathing, dressing and feeding. The staff, on their new shift-less jobs looked tired but resilient. "We have our lives, we have each other," one told me. Several staff introduced us to children and asked if we'd adopt them. Many children clamored for our attention, "mama hold me" said so many small children with runny noses and dirty feet. Certainly in our hours there, Patrick and I entertained growing our family to ridiculous numbers. For now we hugged a lot, held a lot, while trying to gleam any information we could about their needs and the status of pending visas.

Leaving, Patrick and I felt determined to find some food or supplies for the kids. We headed back to the guest house trying to brainstorm and asked Veniel for advice. He reminded us of bags left behind by a Canadian Medical team who told him that we were free to use what we needed and the rest were to be sent to the countryside where they were initially intended to go.

So Patrick and I became bandits (thank you to Marilyn and her team!!!). We riffled through bags pulling out things that could be used right away: over the counter pain medicine, acid-tabs, a few antibiotics, first aid wound care supplies, anti-worm medicine, water treatment drops, soap, candles and a few diapers and clothes for babies. Patrick found a pharmacy open and was able to buy formula (!!!!!), some pedialyte and medicine for eye infections. Suddenly we had a trunk full of medicines and supplies. Joy. Elation. Purpose. Hope.

We anxiously drove back to the orphanage and together celebrated with the weary staff as we passed out the few scavenged supplies. Every new treasure revealed brought hoots and hands waved in celebration. It was more fun than Christmas. I quickly looked over a couple of the children who had eye infections, skin infections and coughs, picking out the ones who could benefit from the medicines we'd scavenged. The staff--already overloaded--took their new nursing responsibilities in stride. Of course they would help administer to the kids. I am amazed at their fortitude.

On our way up the mountain, we stopped to check in on Silvia and her family who seem to be fairing well. They are slowly moving back into their house and trying to figure out how to make income to feed the family. We were able to drop off blood pressure medicines for the people in her family with hypertension and antacids for others who've long struggled with peptic ulcer disease.

Arriving back to our little camp well after dark, we couldn't help but feel invigorated by the small successes of the day. We take hope amidst the disaster. Every opportunity will be explored and utilized. By everyone. Haitians helping haitians, friends from across the globe helping in the efforts as well. The unified effort to get through each difficult day makes us all stronger, a chain of many hands.