to bind up the brokenhearted...

I'm not sure what to say about last week.  Blogging has definitely helped me keep some sort of semblance of sanity, I believe.  God and I have talked a lot about the things going on, and how much it hurts me to see them.  I know He's given me that tenderness and compassion to be His hands and feet to the ones in my path.  I've told him I don't always want to do that, because it hurts.  Can't I just do what needs to be done without being emotionally attached or involved?  He told me no, because that's what love does.  Love feels, and breathes, and touches, and rejoices, and cries.  It does all of those things when it is a love that has come from God himself.  I am convinced this week, that the love filling me for the people in my path is anything but my own, I know it is coming from God and that it is a great gift from him.  God has graciously put people in my life here to walk through things with me.  To hug me, and cry with me, and rejoice with me, but most importantly, to steer me back to the Lover of my soul, my Creator and Sustainer, who knows me far better than anyone else.
In the midst of high school students, Pierre being gone, and a baby dying, other things were happening as well.  Things that have stretched me even more, and forced me into trusting, really really trusting, that God is who He says He is.
A mother visited the orphanage to talk with Fifi.  Fifi came into the office completely emotional (something that just doesn't happen).  The mother has no food, no place to sleep, and the the father of the child they have together suggested she sell the child to get a place to live.  She didn't know where to go for help, so she came to us.
Samantha came to the orphanage again this week.  She came on Wednesday afternoon, when I was on a conference call.  Immediately after the call I received the news about Sondy, and I forgot to go talk to her.
She came back on Thursday.  She said her tent had been broken to pieces.  A man had come and kidnapped Monica again.  They both have injuries on their heads where the man hit them.  Somehow, Monica is still with her.  The person who broke her tent took every single thing she had.  All her clothes, all the things she had for Monica.  Gone.  She shared other deeply personal, tragic things that have happened since the last time I saw her.  We talked about health concerns.  She wants to leave Monica at the orphanage.  My.heart.was.breaking.
Samantha had a friend with her, who told the story of her nine year old daughter being kidnapped last week on her way to school.  She hasn't seen her since, and doesn't expect to.  She told the story as if she were sharing what she did last night with her friends.  It.was.unnerving.
We asked Samantha to come back yesterday to talk with Fifi. She didn't come.
I couldn't go to the hospital to inquire about Sondy.  I couldn't bear to hear that everything was fine when he left, or else they wouldn't have sent him.  I didn't need to hear those words, so I didn't go.
I'm out of explanations about life in Haiti.  I know things happen no matter where you live.  It just seems like they are all in my face this week.  Every single one of them, on my doorstep, in my heart, in my mind, ever in front of my eyes.
I don't want to leave my house for fear of what will be asked of me today.  So I sit here, listening to a sweet baby snoring for his morning nap, sharing my life with whoever happens across this.