Rid Me of Myself

I sang these lyrics to a song in church yesterday where I happily dragged myself after being up for over 24 hours – with intermittent sleep – from the point of waking up in Haiti to arriving at my front door in central Virginia.

Something compelled me to attend even though I felt as if I had been hit by a truck. I was glad I did.

The teaching of the associate pastor who was sporting dreadlocks, tattoos and enormous, unlaced high tops – as per usual – was as sharp as ever, and the music was harmonious – blending electrified ukulele, violin and guitars with drums, of course. I gently wept during nearly every song, particularly Lead Me to the Cross from which the aforementioned lyrics come.

I think it was because during this, my third trip to Life Is Hope Orphanage, I had somehow internalized Oswald Chambers admonishment to “Have nothing … never hold anything in reserve. Pour yourself out, giving the best that you have…”

In fact, on the last night as a result of living in very close quarters, complete with unreliable plumbing and electricity; playing musical “beds” (the roof on which we were sleeping flooded twice); the spreading of illness among the orphans as well as team members; and being the last of 40 people to take a coveted shower, I buried my face in my hands as I sat on the tile floor waiting outside one of three bathrooms. I don’t think I have ever been so exhausted. Ever. Each person on both teams seemed tapped out, having given every ounce of love and energy they could muster.

I recall Matthew’s first beatitude in The Message translation: You’re blessed when you’re at the end of your rope. With less of you, there is more of God…

It was the toughest trip for me personally thus far – yet oddly, it does not dissuade me from returning to a country which has found a home in my heart. Even my middle daughter, who “caught” the fever and cough and left our local Prompt Care on Sunday with a prescription for powerful antibiotics and a bronchial inhaler, told me in a whisper while in the waiting room that she desires to go back in December. Her main concern is that she won’t be able to raise the money again.

Here’s what I came back to: friends: a real bed, air conditioning, hot shower, clean drinking water out of the faucet, enough plates, forks and cups for my family as well as medical care to render my daughter well.

When one of two orphans was “taken” to the hospital – likely a collective decision of the incredibly competent nurses on our teams – there was no doctor there, at least initially. I would have used the word “rushed” but this is not a word used in Haiti. There simply is no rushing and doctors aren’t always to be found in hospitals. One of our nurses commented that the orphans who fell gravely ill would have all been hospitalized in the United States. In Haiti, however, this was not an option.

Despite all the seemingly unique and extreme challenges of this trip, there were, as always, unforgettable moments, too: Experiencing one of the most amazing encounters of my life with someone I had never met previously, while she and I were scraping crud off shower tile; making room in my heart for Fritzen, Jean and Mazeline in addition to the other orphans residing there; enjoying the knitting-together of yet another team, ranging in age from 11-61, in one week’s time; serving shrimp Provencal – prepared by our trip leader, Jude, and his sous chef, Jeannie – to 180 children; basking in the encouragement, wisdom and love of my Haitian brother, Anderson, who is young enough to be my son; observing the tears shed on the last day by the orphans who had bonded with my three older children; having them need me even if only for translation and dispensing anti-malaria meds; delighting in my older sister Clissy’s laughter, energy, skill and fortitude. While we were playing with as well as protecting the orphans in the ocean on a precious beach day – a first for them – she spontaneously proclaimed to me, “We were born to do this!”

– Caroline Watkins