I Remember Still

Haiti has been consistently in my thoughts in the past eight days, sometimes in the forefront and sometimes in the background, but always there.

When I first moved there as a child, I hated it. Everything was so completely different. But it wasn't long until it became home.

Gonaives in 1985

To me, Haiti is a nation of contrasts. There is great beauty and overwhelming ugliness. Friendliness and suspicion. Love and hatred. Affluence and poverty. Generosity and theft.

My family was robbed when we lived in Haiti. That's a longer story than I want to spend time sharing today except for this: Everything of value was taken from us and our Haitian help including Leiz, our yard man. But when Leiz saw that my dad's watch had been taken from his wrist, Leiz took off his own watch and tried to give it to my dad. Even in the midst of his own loss, he wanted to give what he had to help comfort us in the overwhelming realization of what had just happened and that we had survived.

St Marc in 1994

I've watched the news and followed blogs of survival lists and orphanage updates. I've looked for news of missionaries that we know. I've wished that I could give a little Haitian girl a home.

Another earthquake was felt in Haiti this morning. This one was a 6.1.

Please don't stop praying for Haiti. In the words of one Haitian woman, "Pa Bliye'm" Don't forget me.

M-ap prie pou ou, Haiti. M sonje toujou.

Read The Livesay [Haiti] Weblog for current stories of endurance, perseverance, and hope.