The People I Love

My feet are tired. Lately I have a pain in my foot that bothers me most when I wear flip flops or unsupportive shoes. It’s not very painful, but it is constant when it is there.

My heart is also very tired. Tired from loving. Tired from wanting others to know Him. Tired from inviting people to mass, hearing them say that they will come, and finding a church that is somewhat empty. Why is my love not enough? Maybe because it’s mine and not His. I can invite, but when He invites they could not refuse, I hope.

I am tired from being interrupted during breakfast by a woman who can’t feed her children. It makes me uncomfortable that I feel annoyed putting down my fork to go hear about her hunger. Isn’t that it? The poor make us uncomfortable because we know that we live a life that is unjust. So I put down my fork and let my eggs get cold while I pack up rice and beans, but she also can’t send her children to school. I give her money from my top dresser drawer because I don’t want to go through our community donation process this time.

I love the days when Franso comes by with his report card. A 17 year old kid who we are sending to school this year for the first time in his life. His grades are very high so he must be naturally smart. An 11 year old boy named Wendi comes by often too. He has also never been to school. I hope next year we can help him also. And then there’s Mari-Carmel who often comes by. She is pregnant. She said she was having twins and she would leave one in the hospital but she knows Fr. Louis would be mad. Her daughter Medjina had to have throat surgery recently.

Bibi works in our kitchen. Her 20 year old granddaughter Antoinize passed away this year. I can’t help thinking that I wish we could have done more for her. Not just for her to not die from the abortion that she had, but also to teach her more about His love. But I waited until tomorrow on that one and tomorrow never came.

Sweet Islan. I never know what to do with her. She has many, many children. The newest one is only a couple months old, a sweet girl named Saraja. I was told she named her after me. Islan is Wendi’s mother also. I will be Saraja’s godmother. Islan just started washing my laundry every once in a while. I know it won’t be permanent since I will leave Haiti soon, but for now it will help.

I don’t know why but I don’t let my heart break while I am in Haiti. I can’t let it break because I have to love the next person twenty minutes later, or sometimes in the next instant.

There’s Niva who has had a skin disease for most of her life. She has seen different doctors but never found what works. Her family doesn’t have the money to feed her every day, much less get her medicine.

Mika is a girl who has seizures in our neighborhood. Sometimes her family can’t afford her medication and so Mika seizes in their yard and pees on herself. Mika is sweet and they love her well. Her mom died recently but her sister takes good care of her, the best that they can.

And so I ask myself – will I ever be comfortable living in what my mother calls “the real world”? Could I ever hold a paycheck without feeling guilt for the people I love who don’t eat even one meal on some days?

I know deep down that I cannot fix everything for these people. I wish I could. I wish I could feed them all and clothe them well and give them shoes and all the medicines that they need. I wish I could send them and all of their children to school. But what I have will never be enough.

One day, when He wipes away every tear from our eyes, I know that He will fill the stomachs of the hungry ones – because that is important to Him. Maybe that is what He means when He says we will never hunger and thirst again. I know plenty of people who hunger and thirst every day.

Or maybe, maybe it is we who are supposed to take care of each other. Maybe if we were really Christians, all that Jesus says could really come true. Maybe if we ate our leftovers instead of throwing them away. Maybe if we lived in houses smaller than we think we need. Maybe if we buy used cars and keep our computers and phones until they don’t work anymore instead of until the new model comes out. Maybe then we could really feed the hungry, clothe the naked, send kids to school, share our medicines, and skills. And maybe, maybe we would even have the courage to share the Gospel with one another. Maybe we would have the courage to love one another instead of forget one another. Maybe we would, for a moment, open our eyes to the world – to our brothers and sisters who are just like us but happen to live in other places.

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