Something I don’t want to get used to …
Thursday, March 21st, 2013

As much as I enjoy the privacy and quiet(er) existence the beach property offers, I truly miss the life I grew used to living right among the people of Carries after the earthquake.   I can hardly wait until the wall is finished on the property uphill so we can be over there full time again.  We have men up there clearing the land of weeds and thorn bushes and rocks…it’s coming, slow but sure.  The men are also clearing pathways so we can drive through with the Rhino.  That is what we did yesterday.

Piling in the back of our wonderful all-terrain-vehicle (with foam in the tires and 4-wheel-drive, this Rhino is the best thing we could possibly have in this country – we need a fleet of them!), we drove straight up to the foot of the mountain (the eastern edge of our property).  The air is so much clearer, fresher, up there.  When we reached the top, I turned and was amazed all over again at the gorgeous ocean view our altitude provided us with.  The expanse of the land, the fresh air, the breeze, beautiful scenery…it all makes me feel so free.   We took many detours across the land, patrolling, exploring, before we finally descended.

We took a different route down than we normally take, straight through the village.  I was surprised when I noticed that I’d never been to this section of Lotboray (Carries) before.  All of a sudden I began seeing lots of familiar faces pop around corners of the cactus fences.  So many of the kids in my Sunday School class, and in Kids Club, lived in this area.  When my brain finally realized what my eyes were seeing, my heart felt so heavy.  No matter how long I live here, I will never get used to seeing the conditions these people live in…especially when it’s someone I see nearly every day.

I was still wrestling with my own emotions, when Kelsey looked up at me with wide eyes and asked, “Is that where Andiana (one of the girls in our Sunday School) lives?”  I nodded my head, hoping that was the first and last question, but I should know Kelsey better than that.  She glanced back over at the blue tarp wrapped around tiny tree trucks, making a square room about 15 x 15, and continued, “But how do they sleep there?  Where do they sleep?  There’s no floor?  Where do they put their clothes?”  I couldn’t find the words, and mumbled something about “in a bed like us” and “probably in a suitcase like we do.”  Kelsey frowned.  “You mean they just sleep on the floor?”  She looked away, and I could tell she didn’t expect another answer.  She was lost in thought.

Kelsey’s lived here even longer than I have, and even she hasn’t fully realized or gotten used to the harsh realities.  For a moment I was overwhelmed by feelings of guilt, despair, doubt, conviction, and sadness.  Then as I looked at Kelsey again, and thought of my own emotions, I was grateful.  Grateful God had kept me from growing used to such realizations.  Grateful she is not yet used to them, either.  Destitution, pain, evil, suffering, and most of all ignorance of God’s love and truth, are things we should never be “used to” or come to expect.  I pray that He will continue to keep both of us from becoming numb, and that we can continue to see those around us as people; people who are just like us.  People who need to know they are loved.

http://shainainhaiti.blogspot.com/2013/03/something-i-dont-want-to-get-used-to.html