No mama, no papa

A pretty exceptional day was had today...

I've always been vocal about my passion for orphans, but today was a whole new level of realization.

About a week ago, I met a pastor who had opened up his church to take in children whose parents died in the Port Au Prince earthquake a year ago. He had about 35 orphans under his care right now, and recently, many had fallen ill. They were experiencing fevers, but all he had for remedy was less than one bottle of Tylenol. He didn't have a thermometer, much shampoo for the many fungal infections on their scalps, or any other true resources for their medical care. Amy and I both jumped to the same thought... we needed to assess these children and take them from our pharmacy that we thought would be useful for them. We packed up boxes of supplies, not exactly sure what to expect when we actually arrived.

We ended up having two extra nurses staying here that were eager to go help on this adventure, so we were extra thankful for that! When we walked up, a group of gorgeous children were sitting outside the church... politely replying "Bonjou". That was the moment I knew today was going to be a GOOD day! We set up our "nursing stations" and turned around to see this sight.....

My face HAD to light up, because I was so excited to get to spend the day with these girls! The lines formed to be seen, and the nannies wasted no time switching out the children as soon as they had their diagnosis and medicine. Fungal infections of the scalp were numerous, as well as fevers and coughs. Here and there would  be allergies, ear infections, and worms, but thankfully the kids seemed to be on the downhill side of the peak of illness.

Now I have to share something so precious about these children, and actually most Haitian children. They are so timid and polite at first that the speak in the quietest and sweetest voices that I've ever heard. I'd literally be pushing my ear up next to their mouth in order to hear what they were saying. They look at you with the most shy eyes. They whisper "merci" in the softest voice to say thank you. But just give them a few minutes... by the time we were leaving, we honestly could barely pull the mob of children off us. It is one of my favorite things about the children here....

11 am turned into 2:30 pm in what felt like minutes... Children far too adorable for words one by one had found some of type of comfort. We ended up having the honor of treating those who attended the church as well to the best our ability. But here is where the day truly started.....

 I walked outside to take some pictures and was swarmed by bright little faces. They weren't sure about the camera at first, but as soon as I turned the camera around for them to see their incredible picture, their smiles burst through and they jumped up and down with excitement. ALL of them would scramble to get in each picture. When I get home, I'll post the pictures when I can actually upload a lot of them at a time.. but for now just know that the once timid children were now embracing me from every angle.

Now I'm a nurse and I am so thankful for the opportunities it provides, yet I'll be honest... I FAR MORE love what happened over the next moments! I got to hold them. If holding orphans was a professional job, I'd never have a moment where I didn't feel essential and so happy I could burst!!! I held the happy ones, the quiet ones, the beautiful girls, and the handsome boys. One by one I'd just stare at them and just "love" them more than I thought possible. Some of them were so thin, some of them had empty eyes, some of them just relished in the attention. Then it happened... I walked up to a boy who had the saddest look in his eyes that I've seen in quite some time. He was probably too "grown up" to be picked up and held by me (probably 7 years old) , but it didn't stop me. I was so drawn to him and just held him close for a few minutes. I sat down and put him on my lap so I could talk to him and hear his ever quiet voice. I said "Ou tris?" (are you sad?), and softly whispered "Wi" (yes). My heart broke. I asked "Poukisa ou tris?" (Why are you sad?). The next moments uncovered that he missed his mama and his papa. He did not miss them for just a moment. He plain didn't have them anymore. He would never have them back actually.... he no longer had someone to pick him up and make him laugh and feel safe and secure every day. In fact, I doubt he ever really got that living with 35 other children. My heart sunk into my stomach and I said some simple words to God.

I'm so thankful he has a place to sleep, some food to eat, and people bathe him. I'm so thankful I got to hold him in that moment of sorrow. I'm so thankful he survived the monstrous earthquake. I hardly could think I actually made a dent in abolishing his sorrow, but maybe he felt God's love around him during a time of loneliness for just a few minutes. That's what I'm truly sent here to do, after all.