I am afraid.
I have this
necklace I wear.
I had it
custom made as a reminder, not a
statement, but lets call it a gentle nudge, lodged close to my
heart...telling me what I already know.
It holds a moonstone, a
tree of life, one angel wing and a medallion that says
“Courageous”.
I wear it on days I need to be reminded to
be brave.
Some days that is just getting out of bed and parenting
children that are from hard places.
What I am learning about
bravery, is that is does not mean "without fear."
You can be brave
and still be terrified with every breath you take.
In one week I leave for my first of many Medical Trips for Haiti, as a new School Sponsorship Coordinator.
This time
three years ago, I was in Haiti. I had led a small parent trip, and
then with a dear friend, stayed an extra week to complete updates for
the children at our Orphanage. It as a very difficult week. Sick
children, R.O.U.S. (rats of unusual size)...and one very very beautiful
night burned in my brain forever.
We were invited to a dinner, and told to “Dress
fancy", the nicest thing I had in my motley luggage that was still
"somewhat" clean and child urine and vomit free was my black swimming suit
cover up.
I dawned that, used my lip tinted chap-stick on both my
lips and cheeks and called it “as good as it gets.” As my friend
and I entered the dinner, it was as if we had entered a
Prom/wedding/ball. Both women and men wearing their finest,
professional hair up-dos and very formal taffeta dresses sashayed by.
People from all over the world greeted
me as I was soon to learn I was at an International Rotary event
where our Orphanage Director was being acknowledged.
Surrounded
dear friends and live music, the incredible food, colors, company and
laughter of that evening still stays with me to this day. It is the Haiti I remember.
In my minds
eye, I can still sit at that table sitting next to Junior, Wilson,
Kenia, Pascale, and Gauelle.
I can still hear Kenia teasing me
about almost drinking the Icy pink Rum Punch, not knowing it was
stiff with Rum, and that I don't drink. Teasing the men about how
handsome they looked.
Junior patently trying to teach me some
samba type moves I was clumsy at , and laughing.
The pride and
beauty in my friends eyes as they danced around the ballroom.
Guesno
as he stood to receive his award and speak about the good and hope
that is happening in Haiti. How all of our eyes shown with pride and
hope.
I remember crawling into bed that night with sore feet and a
mouth tender from smiling.Little did I know the waltz was ending.
A
couple days later, exhausted, heart aching from saying good bye to my
children for the 11
th time, kissing them as they
wailed....I boarded my plane. Knowing this would be the 4
th
Christmas that would pass since their referral, and they still would
not be home.
Reaching the states, I received a
hurried phone call that Baby Faiths birth Mom was headed to the
hospital, in labor.
On my next layover I learned a beautiful 8
lb. Baby girl had been born and my husband was headed to the
hospital, by himself to retrieve her.
Oh the anxiety...I wanted to
scream at everyone to “Hurry”...I felt like I might burst.
Once
home I flew into the frenzy that is delicious/delirious newborn, complete with sleepless
nights and 5 days later being Thanksgiving.
One month later
Christmas.
Two weeks after that the Earthquake hit.
I remember
calmly doing homework with my oldest, when my Sister in Law called
and told me to check CNN, a huge Earthquake had hit Haiti, and after
shocks were continuing to ravage the poor defenseless country.
I.watched.in.horror.
I could not call, or get a hold of
anyone.
Phone calls and emails from desperate parents began
flooding my phones and e.mail.
We were all desperate for information,
the biggest and simplest of plea's.
“Please tell me my children
are still alive.” It was a prayer entwined with every breath we
took every pounding heart beat, as all we could do was stare blankly at the T.V. Screen, try
for hours in and out, every five minutes via phone, e,mail and text to contact anyone that would
know anything....crying and praying.
It took 36 hours to have any
word that the kids were O.K, Also learning the worst of losses, of friends, family and loved ones. 36 hours preparing myself for the
worst, staying hopeful for others, and promising anything, anything
to a God who had let this happen, that if the children would please
be spared...and then feeling guilty and selfish when so many had
already been lost.
Days and nights molded. Hours of phone
contacts, with the Red Cross, different churches, being in on amazing
missions of bravery simply to get food and water to the
children.
Being apart of desperate phone calls with our government
that was doing very, very little on behalf of the children that had
U.S. Adoptive parents...and suddenly days later, everything fell into
place. 9 nights without a full nights sleep, I spent the last
preparing 40 + children's documents and pictures, we kissed our
sleeping children goodbye, told my Mother, I didn't know when we
would be back and left in a giant blizzard, driving over the icy Malad pass at 3 a.m. in
the morning to catch our flight.
I prayed silently as Trevor white knuckled drove the borrowed 15 passenger van in the white out, praying we were still on the road, praying we would make our flight.
Miracles began that moment,
Angels tangible and heavenly were everywhere. I have never and will
never experience anything like that again in my life. The way the
divine was in the details is what carried me through hell and back.
For you see, Walking off that plane, into my beloved earthquake torn
Haiti was walking into hell.
The silence, the death, the
despair and the fear were thick and heavy in the air.
It was a
warzone,of pain, and loss, hollow eyed zombie's with bandages walked around in a
daze, some carrying each other or limping next to one another. That first night our vehicle had to swerve to avoid clumps of people, careful of not to run over
sleeping in the middle of the street too afraid to not only sleep
inside a building, but anywhere near them.
The numb , blank, terrified hollowness in
everyone's eyes, including the children's.
The bodies. The smell.
The names of our lost loved ones not being spoken on our lips, but
seen in all of our eyes when we looked at each other. The
aftershocks, that weren't aftershocks, but earthquakes of massive
proportion. I will never forget the shattering sound like an iceberg breaking off and
falling into an ocean and how the ground actually rolled beneath me
as I slept next to 30 sleeping children on cement.
The way they screamed. The way I shook with 15 children clinging to me feeling powerless. Because when the ground beneath you waves as if made of liquid, there is no Power, there is no say, you just pray and hold on , and the thing you are holding onto is shaking too.
10 days. Many
spent in the embassy. Many holding children that were meant to be
life flighted to the U.S.A....some made it, many did not. Evenings
ending at the Central hospital picking up our Pediatrician friend,and
witnessing the hundreds of tents and people, so very many people, and
so very much blood. I wrote a specific memory down
here.
When
we returned with our children, after spending days in limbo in a
Florida children's' housing, we returned to our home, and other
children.
Much like a Soldier must feel like after returning
home ( and sheesh we had only been gone two weeks) We were in shell
shock. After walking out of hell, to running water, a change of
clothes, medicine, food that didn't come from a rations box....it was
like walking through hell, and no one could see it, or have any idea what we all had been through. They wanted us at family parties and church, they brought us balloons. Everyone
wanted to celebrate us, and our kids being home, and we felt like
these survivors of something no one could understand, worn,
terrified, exhausted and feeling guilty that we had gotten out when so many of our fellow survivors didn't, or prepared for the rainy season living in tents.
Returning to a newborn, our fearful
children, and introducing 5 traumatized siblings . Our family in less
than 8 weeks had grown from a family of 5 people, to a family of
11.
I don't remember much of that first year.
I don't think
there was a lot of sleep.
I don't think there was much of anything
but, eating, sleeping, crying,and raging, and surviving .
I learned how to gather wagons.
I learned how to make my children's worlds small.
I learned how to wait out 6 hours of screaming and breaking things.
I learned how to restrain a child hell bent on hurting me.
I learned how to tell other people "no".
I learned that no matter how much you love someone, it really can't be enough.
I have grown so much in these last 3 years, I am
stronger, I am braver, I have a better understanding of what is, and
what is not important.
I have a differing view on Orphans, and the
way I can believe to help solve a very small portion of that problem.
I am passionate still about my
children's country, and country men, women and brothers and
sisters.
I am actively doing something, now that I am standing on
both feet again (most days), I am going to Haiti, and taking on a new
responsibility and calling for the children of Haiti, seeking free
education, food programs, goat programs, and Medical care with the
Organization of
Sionfonds.
I leave for Haiti in two weeks.
I
am terrified. I have big feeling and hard memories attached to this first trip back.
And that is O.K.
I am not doing this alone. I am being carried by so many friends and family with their love and support, I am riding on the coat tails of so many other brave people in my life, who by walking up and doing what they do makes the world a better place. These warriors, walk with me, and even talk time out of their day to text, love on and emotionally support me.
I have been so very touched by the overwhelming support I have found in my Paypal box, propelling me forward into doing more, helping more...because of others bravery and generosity.
I can still have
courage.
For:
Courage
is not the absence of fear, but rather the judgement that something
else is more important than fear. ~Ambrose Redmoon
I can still have courage.
