A Vapor (a puff of smoke, a mist)
I remember feeling shocked when my grandfather passed away. It didn’t seem right, it happened so suddenly, it was too soon. As I processed through my emotions that day, I was surprised those feelings were my immediate response. Why? Because my grandfather was 101 years old when he died. It didn’t matter that he had lived a very long life, nor that he was ready to meet his maker, looking forward to it even. None of that mattered to me, it still felt wrong.
We all know death is a natural part of this life, but somehow it always feels unnatural. The feelings of injustice are magnified when we see babies, children and young men and women die. We’re left dazed, confused, befuddled.
Why? Why? Why? The word rings loud on repeat in my mind.
I have seen death over and over and over in Haiti, yet I know I’ve only experienced a fraction of what the general population experience in a lifetime.
Why? Why? Why? The word rings loud on repeat in my mind.
I sat with a group of Haitian women this morning, catching up on life, and talking through recent tragedies. News of a miscarriage came in the early hours of the day, the mother was a little over 4 months pregnant. I explained to the group of women, in North America you generally can assume you’re “safe” once you reach 3 months in pregnancy, and that this is often when couples share their pregnancy news. I watched as the women processed what I was sharing. Edith turned to me and said, in Haiti you generally can assume you and your baby are safe when your baby is 3 months old. I’m still processing this statement, but it’s true. How many Haitian babies have I held that later died before they hit the 3 month mark? How many mother’s names have I written on orphanage intake forms, followed by the word ‘deceased’ ?
They say life is but a wisp of vapor (a puff of smoke, a mist) that is visible for a little while and then disappears. The winds in Haiti seem to be much stronger, the vapors vanish all too quickly, and without warning. We are left searching in the wind.
Why? Why? Why? The word rings loud on repeat in our minds.
We don’t get to know, friends, not now anyway. We just have to trust, that He who is able to do immeasurably more than all we ask or imagine, knows what’s best, even when we can’t see it, even when we don’t agree, even when our hearts cannot fathom and our minds cannot accept it. We just have to trust, and then pry this confusion out of our hearts and lay it at the feet of the cross.
Why? Why? Why?
I don’t know.
But I still believe that He is good. Even though it’s hard, I still believe.
Please pray for Jean Remy, who lost his bride yesterday, just a few short weeks after she lost their second baby. Please pray for our friend Pastor Galeme’s wife, Guirlene, who lost her second baby in the early morning hours today.
Thank you,
Rachel
We all know death is a natural part of this life, but somehow it always feels unnatural. The feelings of injustice are magnified when we see babies, children and young men and women die. We’re left dazed, confused, befuddled.
Why? Why? Why? The word rings loud on repeat in my mind.
I have seen death over and over and over in Haiti, yet I know I’ve only experienced a fraction of what the general population experience in a lifetime.
Why? Why? Why? The word rings loud on repeat in my mind.
I sat with a group of Haitian women this morning, catching up on life, and talking through recent tragedies. News of a miscarriage came in the early hours of the day, the mother was a little over 4 months pregnant. I explained to the group of women, in North America you generally can assume you’re “safe” once you reach 3 months in pregnancy, and that this is often when couples share their pregnancy news. I watched as the women processed what I was sharing. Edith turned to me and said, in Haiti you generally can assume you and your baby are safe when your baby is 3 months old. I’m still processing this statement, but it’s true. How many Haitian babies have I held that later died before they hit the 3 month mark? How many mother’s names have I written on orphanage intake forms, followed by the word ‘deceased’ ?
They say life is but a wisp of vapor (a puff of smoke, a mist) that is visible for a little while and then disappears. The winds in Haiti seem to be much stronger, the vapors vanish all too quickly, and without warning. We are left searching in the wind.
Why? Why? Why? The word rings loud on repeat in our minds.
We don’t get to know, friends, not now anyway. We just have to trust, that He who is able to do immeasurably more than all we ask or imagine, knows what’s best, even when we can’t see it, even when we don’t agree, even when our hearts cannot fathom and our minds cannot accept it. We just have to trust, and then pry this confusion out of our hearts and lay it at the feet of the cross.
Why? Why? Why?
I don’t know.
But I still believe that He is good. Even though it’s hard, I still believe.
Please pray for Jean Remy, who lost his bride yesterday, just a few short weeks after she lost their second baby. Please pray for our friend Pastor Galeme’s wife, Guirlene, who lost her second baby in the early morning hours today.
Thank you,
Rachel
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