I've had two favorite moments in the last five days (and please, forgive us our absence, dear blogfriends).
One moment was last week at a "welcome home" potluck for our friend Shelley. After the quake, Shelley and the kids had gone to the States while Corrigan stayed here to continue teaching at Quisqueya. (Rabbit trail: there are three families we are close to who are still in this tough separation time where the wife and kids are in the States while Dad stays here to keep teaching. Special prayers for the Herseys, Days, and Bleshes, please, as they're all going on 3 months apart). After many weeks and weeks apart, Shelley, Keziah, Zebedee, Jackson, and Ember all returned home to one joyful husband/dad.
This family runs a women's program where very poor mothers create jewelry that is sold in the US, and all the ladies in the program were there with their (many!) kids, including an 8-day-old baby who Corrigan pretty much helped deliver (the mother was in labor at his house!). As we surveyed the food table and compared it to the growing crowd on the Clays' rooftop dining area, we could see it wouldn't be nearly enough for everyone. I had made salsa, and, let's be honest, I was really hoping none of the Haitians would like it so I could eat a good bit/most of it myself. Also, there was pizza- a treat. Also also, I was really hungry.
Ben followed my gaze, coming to the same conclusion- not enough for this growing crowd. He turned and said to me quietly, "hey, let's not eat dinner here". I was totally in love with him. What a good man I'm married to. I admire him most when he's Jesusy.
Favorite moment two:
This afternoon we had a staff meeting. Afterward, B and I went upstairs to our apartment to cool off. I was reading and he was checking email when we heard a child crying. Not unusual. The Haitian kids who live on campus are always running around, usually screaming, and we have three walls of windows in our bedroom- lots of kid noises 24/7. But this kid was really screaming, and it sounded like a small child, and it kept going for awhile. I asked Ben to peek out the window and see if the crying child was being attended to. He said, "I think it's Sarah."
Within 3 seconds both our shoes were on and we were out the door. We walked down the stairs out of our apartment, and there was no child in sight, crying or otherwise. We waited a minute, and there came Sarah bounding around the corner. She ran up to us, jumped in my arms. Bliss. No tears- must've been another kid. We talked to her for a second, and then she ran off. Bummer. Where'd she go? B and I stood there for awhile, and she ran back from the direction of the art and music building, where our Haitian staff members are living. She had a black small trash bag tied in a knot. After some creative point-communicating (our specialty), we figured she wanted us to untie the trash bag.
Inside was her little pink baby- the one we gave her last week. All the pieces were there- the baby's pink hat, the magnetic pacifier, the bassinet, the baby's pink blanket. Much dirtier- much loved.
She couldn't get the hat on the baby, so Ben helped her. She layed the baby sideways in the bassinet, so Ben helped her lay the baby straight. She motioned for Ben to put the blanket on the baby, which he did. She pursed her lips, made a "tisk, tisk" sound, and repositioned the blanket, spreading it out just so, as if a silly boy couldn't possibly do it right.