You’d think we’d be just a little depressed after what we’ve been seeing, but look at the smiles on these faces. It’s because of what we been able to do, feel, share and accomplish. All good. So we came back for more.
We went back to Fort National this morning and saw another 170 patients by lunch time. We held our clinic right in the middle of where those how had been displaced slept and lived. They gave up their beds and tables so we could serve.
Dr. Fitz did some minor surgery removing a cyst and for what it’s worth, the procedure went well despite scrambling to find what we needed. It was all there, but a hunt was needed to find it all.
All it took to remind us of why we were there, was to simply look around us and see the devastation.
Everyone from these homes were living now outside under tarps, and that is where we were. With no water or electricity, Cori, our water engineer (really that is what she does) taught the leaders of the camp how to use the water filters we brought.
And in the mid morning into the afternoon, Michael and his pastoral/counselors went to the Tabernacle community and spent time with about 80 people…a lot of children, most with significant emotional trauma. And the children you see below, are the ones who escaped the nightmares, the recurring dreams of the earthquake.
And I’ve been watching this women for 2 days. She is alone and has stayed in that spot every day since the earth quake struck. She has no family, is mentally handicapped, alone and withdrawn. I talked to the camp leader and asked him to promise me that in exchange for what we were doing there for them, that he would personally care for her. No one even knew her name. We are so quick to run to the children, the ones with the pretty smiles, the adorable faces, the ones you want to hug and never let go. But do we, can we, do the same with her? Or is she too grotesque, too much out of our comfort zone, to hug her without letting go, to take a picture with her, to try to get her to smile….I tried once and she pulled away. I wanted to try again, but she seemed so far out of reach…emotionally and physically. For a day and a half, we walked and worked around her. I’m asking myself how we let that happen.
I think of why we came, and for the sacrifices we made to do so. I think of the being a servant to those who are in need. I look at her and wonder how good a servant I really am. And I remain committed to remembering that it is things like this that remind me of my need to be humble, to feel unashamed to be round those who are less like us, the so called normal people. I will remember her often and wonder if she felt the touch of my hand if for only a moment.
In all things give thanks,
David
