"So where you worried for all your friends in Haiti when that hurricane blew through?" Lee asked as I handed him his change.
"No."
He laughed, rather surprised, because that wasn't the answer he was expecting. But it was true. I prayed for Haiti - but I wasn't worried. There are things far worse down there than hurricanes - other things that keep me awake at night.
.....
"Have you heard from any of your friends in Haiti since that bad storm - hurricane?" Mrs. W. asked as we worked on cleaning the outside of her windows.
"Umm...no, not since the hurricane - but I usually call about once a week." I replied. "I know they're fine though."
.....
"I know a young guy - uh, he works down there at that hardware store in Lewisburgh - darn, I can't remember his name! Anyway, he's big into paramedics - he's down in Haiti now givin' people shots!" Ed the plumber, was telling me as I handed him his food and Coke.
"Wow.." I murmured, "That's a great thing for him to do - I know they appreciate it."
.....
"You know Betsey? They go to church at Vineyard Fellowship too..." A lady from the church we have been visiting was telling me about Betsey, as we chatted at the Monday night Bible study they also attended. "They've been on lots of missions to Haiti - and even adopted!"
"Oh, yeah!" I remembered seeing her and her beautiful girls at church months ago. Someone told me the girls were from Haiti.
Later, out of three hundred women, Betsey was seated directly next to me in our small group discussion last Monday night. I wanted so badly to introduce myself - but I didn't know how. She didn't know me from Adam's uncle. So, I did what every classy, socially assured young lady does - I followed her to the bathroom in between small-group and lecture time.
"So is this your first time in Bible Study Fellowship, or did you transfer?" She asked me cheerfully as we washed our hands.
"This is my first time." I replied, with a smile.
"Where do you live?" She asked again.
"We live in Eaton, so it's not a far drive. How about you all?"
"Oh, we live north of D----," she said. "It's a long drive for us, so Monday nights are a big deal." She laughed.
"And you all go to church in B----?" I asked. She got an astonished look on her face.
"Yeah, we do! How do you all know about - have you visited?"
"Yes." I told her with a giggle. She got a "no way!" look on her face.
"When?"
I told her we had visited several times a few months ago, and I remembered seeing her and her daughters. We had also been the past two Sundays, but they were not there.
"The reason I remember you is because someone told me you had adopted from Haiti. That interested me because I have been doing missions to Haiti for three years."
Betsey gaped at me. "Oh my gosh! Hold on, let me grab my purse - we'll talk!" She ran back to the sinks and grabbed her purse. We made our way out of the restroom and into the lobby, pausing before going into the sanctuary.
"So tell me about going to Haiti!?"
I explained to her what I have done since I graduated from high school. "How about you? How do you start going to Haiti?"
She laughed, "Well, we went with the church a few years ago and have been going back. I also work with a medical missions group, organizing medical visas for children. That's how we met Dafka, our other daughter we are trying to adopt. She lived with us for two years, and had to go back recently - only her mom put her in an orphanage because she can't take care of her." Betsey stopped abruptly. "What mission do you go down there with?"
"Well, the first time I went I was in a little town on the north coast, but every other time I have been in Port-au-Prince and Croix-de-Bouquet with the same ministry."
"What's it called?"
"Nehemiah Vision Ministries," I told her.
Betsey's eyes got big and her mouth opened up - "Are they supported by a church in Indiana?"
"Umm - yeah! Almost all of their support comes from churches in Indiana!" I replied.
Betsey quickly asked me if I had ever heard of a few names - best friends she had, who lived in Indiana and were also heavily involved with missions to Haiti and a ministry they always talked about - Nehemiah Vision Ministries. I had never heard of the people she mentioned, but told her that it was growing and there were a lot of people involved.
"OH MY GOSH!" We were both speechless.
Betsey spoke first. "We better go in - are you sitting with anyone?"
We made our way to the front together and sat down. We whispered all through the hymns, as the other ladies sang. We started talking again immediately, forty-five minutes later, when the lecture was over.
"This is so cool!" Betsey said excitedly.
"I know!" I agreed, with equal enthusiasm.
"It's so hard to find people to talk to about Haiti - so many people don't understand." Betsey's eyes were bright and earnest. I felt like her words came straight from my heart.
"Do you know what I mean?" She asked, almost desperately. I could only nod my head.
"Yes, yes, yes..."
"It's something people have to experience for themselves and if you try to explain it you sound like, a -" She searched for how to express herself.
"A snob." I finished.
"Yeah!" she said, "You understand."
"You sound like a missionary snob - " We both laughed.
"I just - I - people don't understand, like with Dafka!" She exclaimed. "Dafka was in the United States for medical work, but she wasn't signed over for adoption. Her parents wanted her back. But that was before the earthquake. Her dad was killed in the earthquake and her mom lives in The Ravine - do you know what that is?"
I nodded.
"Her mom has all these other children to take care of - she can't take care of Dafka because she has a prosthetic leg and she can't get around on her own. Dafka doesn't remember any Creole either, and now she is in an orphanage, where no one speaks English. Her mom has signed her over and as soon as her visa clears, we'll be able to get her - but..."
I waited.
"People hear her story and say, 'We're so happy for you! You're getting another daughter!', but they don't understand!" Betsey's eyes filled with tears. "I am horrified at what has happened to her family. I am horrified that her dad was killed and her mom can't take care of her! It's great that we can adopt her, but it's not supposed to be like that."
I kept nodding, my heart to full for words.
"People just see things like Haiti as a story, a picture, a headline - it's not like that - these people have lives!! They're real people!" Betsey's voice rose in pitch, emphasizing her point - the burden of her heart. She wiped away her tears and I felt the rush of a thousand heartbreaks as I though of countless more precious children, far, far less blessed than Dafka - despite her difficult story. And I knew I had found a close friend in Betsey, for we had in common what is rare to find. Someone with the same burden.
"You know?" Her eyes sought mine for confirmation. I don't remember what I said, but I remember thinking - "God what are you going to do? It's a good thing that I want to go back to Haiti - if I was fighting you I would be miserable because I can't get away!"
"I better go get the girls," She said a few minutes later.
"I would love to meet them!" I said, excitedly.
"Oh good!" As we made our way downstairs she told me about Barbara and Vidline - 8 and 9 year old sisters that they adopted from an orphanage in Port-au-Prince. Barbara and Vidline were still in Haiti on January 12th, and Betsey and her husband had to wait, agonizingly, before getting word from the orphanage that they were OK. Their girls were alive. But five days later - they were starving. Betsey's husband flew down there with food. As a blessing in disguise, because of the earthquake, they were able to get the girls out of the country much sooner, as was the case with many adoptive parents.
"Do they still remember Creole?" I asked we we walked down the steps.
"Very little," Betsey told me. "It's sad - we don't speak it well enough to help them remember."
We arrived at the classroom door, as her daughters were coming out. Beautiful, dark skinned girls with huge, gorgeous eyes and matching, bouncing curls.
"Vidline, this is mommy's friend Emily - can you say 'hi'?" Betsey bent down over Vidline and helped her with her jacket.
"Barbara, this is mommy's friend Emily - can you say, 'hello'?"
The both stared at me with big eyes, and murmured, "Hi."
"Hello Vidline, hello Barbara," I said almost as equally shy. Vidline cracked a sassy smile and ran screaming into a dark classroom. Both of the girls giggled and watched me slyly out of the corners of their eyes as we all made our way upstairs.
I said goodbye to Betsey in the lobby - with promises to see each other next week. I smiled at the girls, as Barbara hid her face in Betsey's skirt, pretending to be shy.
I walked away that night, overcome with an urge to run back, drop to my knees and hold those precious girls in my arms - because they were a tangible link to Haiti. As though just holding them would transport me back there. How can someone feel that strongly for a country? How can you feel away from home when you are home? Why Haiti for me? Why wasn't it Brazil, or Papau New Guinea, or Mongolia, or Congo - why Haiti?
I don't know.
And God doesn't want to give me the answer. But He has given me plenty to hold on to. I wish I could see where it will all lead. But I can't. And the frustration is turned into hopeful excitement, because I know everything in my life will turn out beautifully. All I can do is wait -
Map tann...
