Jezula making pates
My heart has throbbed for the past two days. A piece of it collapsed when the earthquake devastated Haiti. I’ve been consumed by worry for my Haitian friends and my friends in Haiti. My friend Jamalyn is leading a group of eight Hoosier United Methodists to Fondwa, a mountain village located 25 miles from the epicenter. Last night we received the wonderful news that an eye witness reported all nine of them safe and sound. While we celebrate that good news, they still have a long journey home. The rest of that country has a long journey to recovery.
As I’ve watched bodies pile up like empty coconut shells along the Port-au-Prince roads, I’ve wondered about the lives closest to me. Were Jed and Remy playing on the orphanage path when the earth shook? Was Jezula cooking in her outside kitchen? Was Mme Chery calling for her great-granddaughter, Bervencia? Was the American team relaxing at the guest house, which collapsed soon after?
We’re still waiting for answers, just like the thousands who are hoping to hear news of loved ones. Meanwhile the media continue to bombard us with the horrific images, body count estimates, and the struggle for aid to reach the people’s dusty hands. How much can one battered nation possibly take?
My heart cries out for the Haitian people, for the world to lend a helping hand, and for that help to reach the hands that need it most. And with the ache of uncertainty, I sing again the ancient psalmist’s words:
“For God alone my soul waits in silence;
from God comes my salvation.
God alone is my rock and my salvation,
my fortress; I shall never be shaken.”
– Psalm 62:1-2
Want to support relief effort? Visit the United Methodist Committee on Relief.