A few days after the earthquake in Haiti, a family stood up in church and asked for prayer. They held hands and fought back tears as they explained their situation. For months they had been waiting for their adopted Haitian daughter to be cleared and flown to the US. With the earthquake a few days before, they were desperate to see her and hold her and tell her everything was okay. At 6 years old, they were unsure of her emotional state and how much she would be affected by the terrible things she had seen.
A few weeks later, the church service had just begun and the congregation was singing.
When peace, like a river, attendeth my way,
When sorrows like sea billows roll;
Whatever my lot, Thou has taught me to say,
It is well, it is well, with my soul.
A family walked in and took their seats in the back. There she was- the one who had experienced disaster, tragedy, pain- holding her new mother's hand. Bundled in a hot pink jacket and snow boots, she stood just a few feet tall. She was introduced to the crowd, and as tears welled up in our eyes she buried her face in her mother's coat. She doesn't speak English, and her family only knows a bit of Creole. She doesn't like the snow, and she hates wearing shoes.
How different is her life now; how drastic are the changes. But she ran and played with the other kids after the service with a silliness and happiness in her face. I smiled as she passed me. She patted my hip, covered her face and giggled. She is still a child.
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