Saturday, January 16, 2010

The world just became a lot smaller. My firstborn daughter now lives in China, where she sleeps when I wake, and wakes as I'm going to bed. But when we chat on Skype, it feels like she's still just a bus ride away in NYC. But my separation anxiety and restless nights are nothing compared to the anxiety and despair faced by my many, many sister-mothers in Haiti. Many have children that have not been found; many have children that will never be found. My heart breaks everytime I turn on the news. As a liturgical dance leader with connections to some very precious Haitian dancers in our area (including a member of my own team),their pain has become a part of my heart. But amidst the pain projected daily from the news coverage, I saw one mother who stood out from the rest. She gripped her child with the same agony felt during childbirth, as that 9 year old endured surgery on her damaged leg --- without anesthesia. Then, when it was all over, she hovered over her 3 children on the ground, and smiled with sheer joy into the camera. Why the smile? Because her children were alive, and all she felt was thanksgiving and the certainty that GOD LOVES HER.
Shortly after seeing this, I went up to my 13 year old's bedroom, and just held her head in my arms. Maybe that's part of this epic disaster in Haiti: A call, not to proclaim disparaging judgements as to why something happens to certain people, but rather,to reach out to those far away, and hold those who are close. Because we're all in this same world together. And it's really quite small.