Sunshine on Cloudy Days
Maybe it’s the never-ending gray sky of Pittsburgh in the winter. Or perhaps it is the ominous sense of dread that seems to have set in due to the disappointment, loss and constant uncertainty of the global pandemic. Then again, it might be the PES (post-electoral stress) from a contentious presidential election leading to a violent mob during political transition.
Whatever it is—I have experienced doubts, disruption, and disappointments like never before. And while these circumstances may seem out of order in my own experience, I have found myself leaning into the lived experience of my Haitian brothers and sisters in new ways.
Political turmoil seems to be part of the political DNA of Haiti. On several occasions, I have been informed that one of our trips might not happen because of political clashes in the country. As I have been on the phone with our Haitian partners discussing these options, they remind me not to be dismayed by such disruption. God is in control. Despite the headlines being made in the Haitian capital, life goes on. I am reminded that in my own confusion, God is in control.
I have been told by Jeanne Touloute, one of our Haitian Directors, that Haitians rely on one another. “We don’t wait for the government to come to our aid,” she said. “Or we will be waiting forever!” What she modeled so beautifully for me was not to focus on what I didn’t have or the disruption of the day, but instead to see every moment as an opportunity to see what I had in my hand and share it, even if it was something so small.
This was certainly true a few years ago when Jeff VanderMolen and I travelled to Haiti after Hurricane Matthew. It was six weeks after the storm landed and destroyed thousands of homes, taking lives along its way.
We were greeted by the community in St Martin. Pastor Daniel said, “You are the first to come to our village. No one from the government has even come in a vehicle or offered help.”
And while this may have been true, it was only partially true. Jesus had already arrived. How so? We saw the way this community made efforts to help one another, to gather tin and materials scattered in the jungle in order to repair their neighbors’ roofs. Families made space for sleeping for others whose homes were destroyed. Women cooked together and shared what they had to eat.
Even with minimal material resources they used what they had and helped a neighbor. Despite the devastating situation, people looked to serve one another.
Rebuilding a house after Hurricane Matthew
It is a good reminder for myself. While there seem to be all sorts of cultural unrest, perhaps I can offer kind gestures to neighbors on my block. Rather than waiting for a government initiative, perhaps I might look to my Haitian brothers and sisters as examples and serve others in my community, by helping with the food bank or picking up groceries for my quarantined brother or sister.
A couple days ago, I received a call from our partner Lenord Francois. He heard that I had been hospitalized with COVID and wanted to let me know that he was praying for me and my family.
Now I know Lenord has also experienced loss of family recently and faces daily the economic and social hardships too often experienced in Haiti. But I was so encouraged by this brother who made the effort to remember me, track me down, and reach out to me multiple times as a gesture of love. Some may call this generosity of love and kindness. I call it a beam of sunshine on my cloudy days.
