As I write this note a small scared teenager attempts to sleep in the room below me, cradling her unnamed 4 lb baby boy. She was admitted at the women's program today to learn to breastfeed- as her baby has been losing weight since he was born last week.
At the guest house next door, across a 10 foot cinder block wall topped with barbed-wire, a group is singing worship songs (in English) that take me back to my days as a camp counselor. We still have city power, so they are sitting in a circle on folding chairs, two guitar players at the top, surrounded by blinking white Christmas lights. Someone in the neighborhood is burning their trash, so every once-in-a-while I catch of whiff of smoke and my eyes start to burn.
It's my first day in Haiti. I arrived around lunchtime today, after traveling all night, and I'm aware of how exhausted I am –both physically and emotionally. Sarah and I were greeted with hugs and dancing and lots of joy. As soon as we were inside the big metal gate, my friend Cherline demanded "pick me up". And it really was a "pick me up"--seeing her brings me so much joy! She's a small waif of a girl my age, who could easily pass for 14 or 15. She works here at the Maternity Center and is one of my dearest friends. So I did pick her up and swing her around and it was a silly happy moment that almost brought me to tears.
As I was listening to the worship circle tonight, I remembered that in the confusing days after the earthquake, the field hospital staff (including myself) ate dinner together each night in that building. I could never have imagined that almost three years later I'd be staying in the apartment next door feeling like I was "home". And yet I am.
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