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The morning after that first crazy night, I wouldn’t say I was so alert.  Every detail was sharper.  Every experience had a heightened emotion attached to it.

On this short term medical trip, we had within our group an eye doctor and a dentist.  Two separate clinics were set up to take patients that either needed their teeth or their eyes examined and treated.  Aside from the clinics, we also ran a VBS (vacation bible school) for the village children. 

The first day I assisted with the VBS, our group leader conducted the class in English while the interpreter repeated everything in Creole.  This was slow process and children are not always patient.  The lot of them quickly turned into a chaotic bunch of youngsters.

I’m not good in crowds.  I used to suffer from minor anxiety attacks that would frequently have me backing into a corner to escape and calm down.  And surrounded by this very large and boisterous bunch of children I found myself moving away and seeking refuge on a simple wooden bench along the far back wall occupied by a small group of girls who seemed to act as shy of the crowd as me.

One of the girls that had clustered around me looked to be about five years old and so small.  Her right eye was glazed over, and it seemed to produce a lot of tears.  She carried a handkerchief with her to dab at it every few minutes.  She had such a beautiful face, I couldn’t help but to keep looking at her.  And every time I looked, she would return my gaze, until finally she got up from her seat and crawled into my lap.  With that simple move, she nearly broke my heart.

I put my arms around her and prayed for what her life would be after we left.  In a day or two we would leave the village and travel down the mountain, and I would never see her again.  I knew that.  But in that moment, I wished that things were different.  I wished that I were older and married to someone who wouldn’t mind adopting a little girl like her.  I knew it wasn’t completely impossible.  Two different families from our church had adopted Haitian children.  I knew that the process took a long time and involved a lot of red tape.  But if only I was older, if only I had a stable job, if only I had a husband, all those things would show the authorities that I would be a good candidate for adoption.  If, if, if.  But “if” doesn’t get you anything more than a hand full of broken dreams.

I couldn’t heal her maladies, and I couldn’t keep her.  So I did the only thing I could do.  I prayed for her, thinking of 2 Corinthians 12:9 “But he said to me, “My grace is sufficient for you, for my power is made perfect in weakness.” Therefore I will boast all the more gladly about my weaknesses, so that Christ’s power may rest on me.”

When I’d finished my prayer, I asked her, “Aimez-vous Jésus ?” (Do you love Jesus?)

“Oui, Avril.” (Yes)

“Vivrez-vous pour Jésus ?” (Will you live for Jesus?)

“Oui, il vit à mon coeur.” (Yes, he lives in my heart.)

That was good enough for me.  It had to be.

Later that night, we went to sit on the roof top of the compound and gaze at the heavens.  Rumor had it there was supposed to be a meteor shower that night.  Maybe it was because we we’re closer to the equator, but, the stars looked so much bigger and the way they shimmered in the night sky, well, it was like singing.  The magnitude of God’s creation came crashing down on me, and in that moment I felt consumed by His awesome love.

“When I consider your heavens, the work of your fingers, the moon and the stars, which you have set in place, what is man that you are mindful of him, the son of man that you care for him?” Psalm 8:3-4

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