When I heard the report on Tuesday evening's news that there had been an earthquake in Haiti, I was terribly saddened. But I had no idea the magnitude of the disaster until a couple days later.
I don't usually watch much of the news. It depresses me. Or it's just nothing that interests me (i.e. political). Or we're watching Curious George instead. But the last couple nights, I have been giving Leah a bath at 5:30 and have watched the NBC Nightly News.
To say that my heart is broken is an understatement. The piles of dead bodies burning because there is no room left in the cemetery. The injured babies lying in their mothers' arms. The babies who are now orphans because their parents didn't survive. The utter despair in a husband's eyes as he searches for his wife. And the numbers. Oh, the numbers. 40,000 buried already. At least 100,000 dead. It's incomprehensible.
This country first captured my heart 12 years ago. And even though it's now been six years since I've been there in person, it doesn't take long for everything to come back to me. Just watching Brian Williams walking down the street, I can practically smell the combination of sewage and something burning. I can see the faces of the abandoned babies at the orphanage. I can see the Hotel Montana, where we enjoyed an afternoon swim, and which Ron Allen made mention of on the news tonight. I can see people walking around with nowhere to go. Just walking. As I'm sure they're doing now.
God, bless Haiti. Bring them the people and resources that they need to recover from this mess. And give them hope that life will get better. But give them comfort until it does. Amen.