Round Trip Ticket

While in Haiti, I cried a total of 3 times. The first time occurred while wrapping up our first day of serving the displaced earthquake victims. It seemed out of nowhere a man appeared with an 18month old baby boy. About the same age and size as my daughter. The child was in distress. He couldn't breathe. His eyes were rolling into the back of his head. Right away our only physician on duty went into action. She said don't let him fall asleep! Keep him upright! She was patting his back and asking that we find a suction bulb for his nose. We searched frantically but could did not have any. He was in bad shape. You could hear the congestion in his nose and chest. His eyes still rolling. Then she yelled. He's seizing! He began vomiting. All I could think of was God...Please don’t let this baby die. One of the young men extended his hand and just did what he knew to do. He began to pray. I put my arm around him, then another joined the hold and another...They prayed. My mind froze. All I could do is cry at the sight of this child near death and at the sound of their prayers. The doctor said all he needed was a nebulizer and oxygen. We were under a hot tarp on the side of a mountain. We had no life saving instruments. We could only offer a ride to the hospital. A group of Spaniard doctors picked up where we left off. He was somewhat stable at the hand off. Though we all wondered and prayed, we never learned the outcome of this child's ordeal.
The second time I cried was when I said goodbye to some of my orphaned friends.Christina, a 3 year old. Sony, an 8 year old wise guy. Carlo, a hip teen. Maroul, a wide eyed, sweet soul,8 and her sister Sarah 10. I learned firsthand from Maroul that their mother nor father was dead. They were abandoned. Woodnor and Jonas. I wanted to take them all home with me. As I hugged them a lump filled my chest. I choked down the cry and tried desperately to hide my tears.
The third time was while I was administering over the counter meds and vitamins to a group of people. A woman on my line was explaining her ailment to me. I always spoke of the earthquake experience in terms of "we". I told her what you are suffering from seems to be stress related. Many of us are having trouble sleeping since the earthquake. I can give you these pills but what you need to do is try to rest, pray and think of other things. She began to cry. I cried with her and held her in my arms. I felt in that moment, what will all these pills do for her? For anyone on this line? These sandwiches? What will they do to make a real difference for these people? When we broke our embrace. She wiped her face and with dignity and complete composure she said. If you can give me the pills for my headaches and the vitamins that will be fine. I gave her the bags and she went on her way. Why was I crying? Yes, it hurt to feel powerless. To feel that there was no significant change I could offer these people right away. Wishing I was richer, wiser, more influential. When I left that baby boy, those orphans, that woman and the countless other moments, no matter how bad or gruesome, the fact was I had a roundtrip ticket in my pocket. I had an easy life back in the USA. I owned a home, 2 cars,had a job, food, water and shelter. My daughters will each be sleeping in their own beds in their own room. I will end the day scraping the food from their plates into the garbage. Who am I to cry when none of these people are crying? They are not feeling sorry for themselves. They are boiling water in pots with salt and spices to make rice outside on an open fire. They are carrying buckets of water to a semi-private area and bathing themselves, getting dressed everyday and living. They are doing what they can to survive. Why am I crying? The time for crying is over. The shock of the earthquake is turning into many a Haitians' reality. Now there is much to do. There are real sacrifices to make and real lives that need changing. They can't say, next stop,or click their heals or up and up and away. This is their reality. I know many are feeling the call. The tug at the heart and mind that says, I can do more. I can do something.