Tonight there is a new moon. From what my wife tells me, Haiti at night is pitch black. Imagine how that must be right now. Swallowed in darkness. Now imagine being swallowed in rubble and darkness.
My heart breaks for this country. As if they didn't have enough hardships already.
Lois went to Haiti in 2000. She went with a Salt Lake City team called Healing Hands for Haiti on assignment to write about their work establishing a rehabilitation clinic.
For nine years she has talked about her experience there. She has talked about it often with a gulping, stifled cry.
She has talked about this beautiful place that has garbage piled knee deep on the sides of the streets because the garbage trucks don't run and there's no place for the people to put it.
Now there are bodies stacked there as well. She has talked about the people she describes as lovely and who hang onto hope, always smiling.
For the last two days as news breaks through in bits and pieces, she cries and half screams, "They need equipment!" The rehab clinic that she helped work on is now in rubble and there is no word on some of the staff. But the doctors and nurses that work in these clinics may not even be capable of helping the wounded. Nobody knows. The bandages and medicines that are extremely needed are now buried beneath the rubble.
My wife's niece over at From the Top of the Stairs sent out an e-mail today to friends and family saying that her friend had just gone to Haiti (just outside Port au Prince) on Sunday for what was supposed to be a 10-day humanitarian mission helping out in an orphanage. She has a broken ankle and cuts, but there is worry of infection. Another thing buried in the rubble is antibiotics.
I was thinking of what Lois said the other night, "It is pitch black and the night is filled with screams. I can't imagine."
Tonight this keeps running through my mind and I am praying for some comfort and hope and help.
My heart breaks for this country. As if they didn't have enough hardships already.
Lois went to Haiti in 2000. She went with a Salt Lake City team called Healing Hands for Haiti on assignment to write about their work establishing a rehabilitation clinic.
For nine years she has talked about her experience there. She has talked about it often with a gulping, stifled cry.
She has talked about this beautiful place that has garbage piled knee deep on the sides of the streets because the garbage trucks don't run and there's no place for the people to put it.
Now there are bodies stacked there as well. She has talked about the people she describes as lovely and who hang onto hope, always smiling.
For the last two days as news breaks through in bits and pieces, she cries and half screams, "They need equipment!" The rehab clinic that she helped work on is now in rubble and there is no word on some of the staff. But the doctors and nurses that work in these clinics may not even be capable of helping the wounded. Nobody knows. The bandages and medicines that are extremely needed are now buried beneath the rubble.
My wife's niece over at From the Top of the Stairs sent out an e-mail today to friends and family saying that her friend had just gone to Haiti (just outside Port au Prince) on Sunday for what was supposed to be a 10-day humanitarian mission helping out in an orphanage. She has a broken ankle and cuts, but there is worry of infection. Another thing buried in the rubble is antibiotics.
I was thinking of what Lois said the other night, "It is pitch black and the night is filled with screams. I can't imagine."
Tonight this keeps running through my mind and I am praying for some comfort and hope and help.
12 comments:
I've had these people in my prayers on the smoke. I know the feeling of pitch black, when I close my eyes at night. The silence is empty. My heart aches for these people for the pain they are in, the loss, the tragedy.
Thank you for putting in words, what I could not. (Hugs)Indigo
Tragedies of this magnitude generally leave me speechless.
The silver lining I always try to look for (such as it is) is the outpouring of help from every corner of the globe in response to any giant disaster.
It is a nice counterpoint to the shallow, selfish, discriminatory behavior so often evidenced by humans. The reactions of the world community in times like this give me hope that common ground still exists between peoples so often entrenched in their differences.
It always amazes me that people who are facing their own challenges always reach out with empathy and compassion to others. You are an inspiration.
so heartbreaking. We donated. I wish there was more we could do.
Hugs to you and Lo Beaux.
I'm speechless not only at the magnitude of this tragedy... but also kinda shocked aty Kregs thoughtful and sensitive comment :)
beaux thank you for sharing all of this...it is hard to imagine a darkness like that...the screams, the stench, the fear, the anguish...and for most of us all we can do is send donations and cry and pray...and pray and pray.
Indigo,
It is certainly tragic and I'm sure those prayers are heard and felt in some way or another.
Kreg,
My spirit is always lifted when I know there are so many people who are able to help and who come rushing in. While I know the response is generally slow going and often tragic because time is of essence and we are not super human beings who can move mountains, it is good to know there are so many people out there who will come. I love your comment.
Laoch,
Thank you, L.
Lisa,
Thank you for visiting. I have stopped by your blog and I will have to read more. I appreciate your sentiment.
MODG,
Hey there gal, I think all we can do from here is throw money and think good thoughts, keep hopefulness in our hearts for everyone or pray. Right now I'm doing all three.
Lorrie,
Hugs back. I am always happy when you drop by.
Laura H.,
My wife was asked to go back to Haiti because she is the only one at her work who has been there. She was torn because she wanted to go so bad, but in light of our (my) medical situation she had to decline. She felt it would be pretty irresponsible to leave us all and have something happen. I feel bad that she was unable to go, but I am also happy that she weighed the situation and realized that it was better for all of us that she stayed.
Praying for them....
I can't being to fathom what it's like to live through that. We've donated, but nothing seems like enough.
I'm grateful what we have here, and praying for those who aren't as lucky tonight.
Did you hear about the patients who were lying outside their demolished hospital, many of them moaning or crying, all of them neglected, when one of them began sining the Haitian national anthem, and the rest joined in?
This is an amazing post. Truly. It is hard to imagine what these people are enduring on top of what they have had to already. You put it into words to allow us all to imagine the horror of it. Hugs to you both. You are good people. Really. I hope our prayers and donations can do some good.
It is incomprehensible, isn't it? We have a doctor friend leaving Sunday and we are sending medical supplies by him.
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