I’m bombarding my eyes with words and images tonight. I can’t help but soak in some information on what’s just occurred in Haiti. I almost feel like my heart is slowing down, recognizing our mortal nature. These stories and photographs are making my soul churn. The country has collapsed. God have mercy on Haiti and her people.
I look back on my day, much like any. I drank coffee with friends, shared meals, wrote emails, etc. But I also had to call Gary our landlord’s handyman to come over. Apparently our water’s been mostly pooling under our house. We didn’t know. I just thought the pipes were still frozen. Gary stood still in our bathroom for a second when he first came over. Quietly. And then he just knew. He said, “What’s that sound?” I nodded with a lack of ideas. I was growing dumber every minute. “Sounds like running water,” he said. Sure enough, we walked outside and underneath our kitchen was water gushing into a puddle some two-inches deep. I could have prevented this, if we’d only consistently left our faucets running.
But does knowing tolls and numbers of Haitian deaths make any difference? prevent any of it? I rarely have been following the news, as if knowing makes anything change. I was worried about not showering for a couple of days. Earthquakes put things in perspective. Yet I don’t feel any better because my soaking up information isn’t helping the matter. Knowing about the devastation can’t take anything back, can’t fix anything, can’t save lives. According to The New York Times, Royal Caribbean Cruises still have scheduled ships to go to Haiti by Friday, and three more slated to stop next week. Tourism resumes as planned.
I hate it that tragedy brings me to write again. I hate it that Haitian deaths cause me to cry. I am cheap, and I have nothing to offer but my prayers. Please Christ, send your peace.