Wednesday, January 18, 2012
This little entry was written on the 2nd anniversary of the Haiti earthquake. It is dedicated to all the first responders but especially to Kez, who was exactly where God wanted her to be at that moment. Right next to me.
It didn’t rain. All day it had looked of rain, and night was usually the time of day when the look became reality. The heavens would open and -if we were so fortunate- flash too, thundering, crashing, pouring wet and light down upon the streets of Port au Prince. Lightning storms in the rainy season: God’s unrestrainable exhibition of power, danger, mysterious beauty. But it didn’t rain.
Tonight snow falls. And unlike that night I will be warm, I will sleep in a bed under a roof, and the world around me will be as silent as the snow. And I will remember the earth that trembled, the women who sang, the nurse who labored, broken bodies, peanut butter sandwiches, January cold, sky that broke, the bright silver loneliness of a moon looking down upon our chaos. And it didn’t rain.
Thank You, God, for your mammoth and miniscule provisions. For circumstance and routine, community and conversation. Thank You for presence and absence, for limitation and ignorance. Thank You for adrenaline and exhaustion and grief.
Thank You that it didn’t rain.