One of the first days we were there my youth pastor said that he planned to have us take a hike up to a small Haitian village tucked into the mountainside. It sounded peaceful and really exciting, until I found out that the hike would take about two hours and we were to get up around 6:30. Getting up at 6:30 wasn't so bad because who wants to sleep in when your room is stifling because you have no air conditioning or power to make the fans work? I'll tell you, not this girl. As for the two hour hike, well, let's just say I'll probably never do anything that physically demanding again, unless I climb the mountain again. Or hike in the Himalayas, but I don't foresee that happening in my future anytime soon.
BUT, I did make it up the mountain and what I saw was a village in need of some real love and care. The houses were made of wood and metal slats, and looked like something that wouldn't exactly survive 20mph winds let alone a hurricane. Those who inhabited the sickly looking homes themselves though were some of the happiest people I had ever met. While they were hungry, thirsty, and very very poor, they found a reason to smile each day.
We continued our trek through the village to their church they had made in the center of "town". When I say church, I mean cinderblock walls and slabs of wood mounted on a few huge rocks to look like pews. But that church service was one of the most powerful services I'd ever attended. But the main event of my story happened while in the church. After the service had ended our group of ten-along with a few Haitian kids from the orphanage we were staying at-handed out juice and bread and dresses for the little girls. After about five minutes, the church erupted in chaos and the village people were grabbing and clawing for more juice, more dresses, more bread, more more more. This is the part where I broke down, sat myself in the corner of the church and cried. I wanted to be so angry at these people for not being orderly and patient, but right as I was about to push everyone away I realized that this is probably the only food they will have that day, or this dress is the only pretty thing their daughter will ever own. And that fact is what broke me. While I'm sitting in the corner sobbing, a little boy crawls up onto the stage of the church, sits in my lap, and wipes my tears away and smiles.
This is Makinglove. Yes, that's actually how you spell it. Regardless of his name though, this little one had a big heart. I have everything these kids will never have and HE is wiping away MY tears. That one small gesture of love stopped my crying on the spot and me and the Makinglove started giggling uncontrollably. The whole church stopped and stared and then laughed with us. That one moment was so beautiful and I don't think I will ever forget it.
One little boy's finger wiped my tears off my face and it is one of the most memorable moments I hold.
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