I spent a week living in an orphanage building on the side of this mountain. If living in a 12x18 room with 7 other girls doesn't teach you about living in community, I don't know what will. Every morning we awoke around 0600, had breakfast at 0645, and had some time alone so we could study and be with the Lord. Most mornings I sat on the rooftop of the huge guesthouse where every one else stayed so I could watch the sunrise. For some reason, the sun is just so much more magnificent in Haiti. As I watched it come up over the mountains every morning I couldn't help but sit in awe of the beauty that God created, that He created it so I could see it. One morning after the sunrise, I went back down to sit on the small concrete slab...er, porch, that was in front of our orphanage home. I remember sitting on the ground writing in my journal as the babies in the building behind ours began to wake and stir. Their little giggles and squeals of delight could brighten anyone's day. It was as if God transported me to some alternate universe. I couldn't believe that I was in Haiti. That God was at work in that place. That God was using me and my friends in that place.
In the orphanage was a young boy with cerebral palsy. His smile could literally light up a room. His attitude despite his circumstances could inspire anyone. He may not have all of the cognitive abilities of "normal" children, but that child was fearfully and wonderfully made. He was happy simply to be alive. How often can we say that? I know I personally live in the "woe is me" mentality much of the time, and that's not what God intended for us at all. Each morning as our group made its way back up the hill for breakfast, that boy would call us over, just to say hi and flash us that sincere, heart-melting smile. He has finally received his medical visa to come to the U.S. for the treatment that he so desperately needs. Praise God that he will be taken care of and should be able to return to Haiti in much better condition.
Unfortunately, we also saw children who were not as lucky as him. On one of our village outreach days, we split into 3 groups (about 5 people with 1 translator to each group.) My group consisted of 5 college-age girls and a Christ-following Haitian translator not much older than any of us. We set off down the main path of the village, rocks below our feet, our footing unsure - literally and figuratively. We passed a vendor who had barely even laid eyes on us before she ran to us and asked us to come pray for her sick son. This woman didn't even know us. We say yes, of course, so she tells us to follow her and she quickly begins on a winding path down a small hill. She tells us to wait at the gate (a big piece of metal tied to a post with a wire) as she goes around back and has her daughter let us in. We walk into the small yard of a concrete home. A sickly puppy runs past my feet as the woman beckons us up the steps. Unsure, we all glance to our translator for guidance and he looks at us and gestures that we go inside as we were invited to do. I was honored that this woman let complete strangers into her home simply because she wanted us to pray for her son. We walk into the living area and all stop, thinking that was as far as we were supposed to intrude, that is, until she asked us to follow her into a bedroom off of the main room. I followed behind two of my friends and knew something was wrong when the two of them stopped dead in their tracks. They both stood to the side and let the rest of us enter. As I walked through the doorway, I saw a bed against the wall with a tiny body all of 3 feet long writhing in it. I have never seen anything like it in my life. It was a boy. An eleven year old boy. An eleven year old boy with cerebral palsy and hydrocephalus so much so that it was painful to look at. His eyes rolling around attempting to focus, but never succeeding. His arms and legs no bigger around than a paper towel rod, all contractured and distorted. His stomach distended and his chest asymmetrical. This boy had never spoken a word in his life, yet his mother gave up hers to take care of him. In Haiti, it's not uncommon for people with disabilities to either be shunned or left to die. The sad thing is that his mother did all she knew how to do and the boy will ultimately still face the same fate of a painful death. Words cannot describe the emotion I felt as I sat down on the floor next to this boy's bed and stroked his forehead and held his hand as we prayed for him and his family. Words cannot describe. We asked the woman what made her seek us out and she couldn't give an answer. She said she just felt it was right. She said she'd heard of Jesus, but felt like she couldn't accept his love because she was living in sin and needed to get things right before she could really know him. How great it was to be able to tell her that that is the very reason God sent his son to live a perfect life then die on the cross as the perfect sacrifice for our lives. Because he knew we were incapable of living righteous and holy lives on our own. How awesome it was to tell her that God meets us where we are. We shared stories of Jesus' power and love and talked and prayed with her more. One of the last things I remember is sitting on the floor, still holding that child tight as one of the girls began singing Amazing Grace, and for the first time I really understood what the words meant.
"Yea, when this flesh and heart shall fail,
And mortal life shall cease,
I shall possess within the veil,
A life of joy and peace.
When we've been here ten thousand years
Bright shining as the sun.
We've no less days to sing God's praise
Than when we've first begun.
Amazing Grace, how sweet the sound,
That saved a wretch like me.
I once was lost but now am found,
Was blind, but now I see."
I was unable to go back and check on the boy and his family before we left, but I have faith that God is at work. I question every day why God chose to use me instead of saving someone else like that child, but I have to trust in his greater plan. It eats me up inside knowing the conditions that child and many others live in, but I have peace in knowing that God's amazing grace never stops working.
