Over the last several days, I have struggled to compose a thoughtful, witty post. Instead, I'm fighting back tears and sending up prayers of both thanksgiving for the life that I have been given and pleading for those who are hungry, hurt, and alone.
I am overwhelmed by the situation in Haiti. The devastation. The loss. The horror. The sadness. The hope. The hope...
Despite everything that these people have been through, they are still singing. They are still praying. They are hopeful. I heard one reporter point out that when you have nothing, and everything is taken away, all you can cling to is faith and hope.
Still, it is unfathomable what the people of this already suffering country are faced with.
The children tear at my heart. The orphans. The littlest victims who don't understand where their families went. The ones who died alone. These tiny victims cause a physical, profound ache in my chest that doesn't seem to ease.
When my four year old daughter asked me why Haiti had an earthquake that "cracked the buildings and hurt some people", I gave her the only answer that I could even remotely understand myself: God needed more angels to help the world. She (thankfully) doesn't understand death or loss yet, but was seemingly satisfied with this response. But I wondered, am I?
As an adult, I struggle to process the magnitude of the catastrophe. My faith doesn't give me answers I can understand and I feel so helpless.
I want to do more. I want to go down to Haiti and scoop up the 1.5 million children affected by the tragedy and tell them that they are not forgotten. I want to kiss their boo-boo's and give them water to satisfy their thirst - thirst which threatens their very lives. I want to cover them with a blanket and provide them with a soft pillow to rest their weary heads. I want to let them know that they have new angels watching over them. I want to hug them and help them feel love so that they believe it, just as my own child did.
My heart aches. My mind is elsewhere. My hands are tied.
Even as my own lack of understanding grows and frustration with my own helplessness prevents me from sleeping at night, I will not let myself forget. I will not allow myself to turn the other way when the images get too gruesome or the sadness becomes too much to bear. I will continue to try and find ways to help. I will keep praying for the victims, and for the babies. Because right now, that's the only thing I can do.
Love, hugs, and blessings,
The Mama
