Mail lay scattered across the kitchen table. I couldn\u2019t put off sorting through it any longer. I flipped through the envelopes, putting aside the ones addressed to my husband.<\/p>\n
It had been over three years since Bob had died from complications after minor surgery. To friends and family it looked like I had moved past the worst of my grief. I took care of my house, socialized, kept up with church committees. On the outside everything appeared to be normal.<\/p>\n
But inside I was anything but. I worried I would never get better. Never be myself again. They say grief has no set time limit, but I was so tired of feeling empty and hopeless. My grief was sharp and fresh as ever. It was like a wall of pressure in my chest, crushing my heart.<\/p>\n
I snatched up a piece of Bob\u2019s mail and held it out to tear in half. Will this feeling ever go away? <\/em>I thought\u2013and stopped myself from ripping the envelope to shreds.<\/p>\n The letter was from an organization that funded a Haitian orphanage called My Father\u2019s House. Its founder, Carol Hawthorne, had given a presentation at our church. Bob and I had donated, and Bob ended up on the mailing list to receive the newsletter with updates on the children.<\/p>\n I hadn\u2019t read one since Bob died. But just three months before, in January 2010, the country had been hit by a terrible earthquake. In my depressed state, it hadn\u2019t even occurred to me to wonder whether the orphanage had survived.<\/p>\n I opened the newsletter and was relieved to find out that My Father\u2019s House was still standing. Of course now it was more crowded than ever. At the bottom of the page was an announcement about an upcoming mission trip to visit the orphanage in person. I should go.<\/em><\/p>\n The thought wouldn\u2019t leave me. I contacted Carol Hawthorne. \u201cWhat would I do if I go?\u201d I asked. \u201cBuild houses?\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cThe Haitian people there are eager to work and they know what they\u2019re doing,\u201d said Carol. \u201cWhat they need are raw materials, and we provide them. We also visit with the children. We go to clinics and schools, pass out supplies. You\u2019ll be very busy, I promise!\u201d<\/p>\n I reserved a spot but didn\u2019t mention it to any of my friends. Just a few weeks later, I was at JFK with seven strangers, waiting to board a plane to Port-au- Prince. Even after takeoff I wasn\u2019t really sure of what I was doing.<\/p>\n In Haiti we were met by Pastor Ronald Lefranc, the director of My Father\u2019s House. We piled into an old school bus and drove over bumpy roads full of potholes, gravel and mud.<\/p>\n We passed women wobbling under the weight of huge water buckets balanced on their heads. Piles of refuse littered the landscape, and the land was dotted with ragged tents and tin shanties.<\/p>\n Finally we pulled up to the orphanage. A crowd of children\u201352 in all\u2013rushed up to greet us. I couldn\u2019t understand the words of the welcome song they sang in Creole, but with the smiles on their faces I didn\u2019t need to. Each child planted a big kiss on my cheek.<\/p>\n Carol and Pastor Ronald led us into the main building. \u201cWhat are those over there?\u201d I asked, pointing to a collection of flimsy tents. \u201cIs there not enough room in the building for all the children?\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cWe have the room,\u201d said Pastor Ronald. \u201cBut many of these children came here after the earthquake. They still don\u2019t feel safe sleeping under a roof.\u201d<\/p>\n There was no sign of fear in the playroom inside. I played dolls, patty-cake and beauty parlor. Children I\u2019d just met presented me with pictures they\u2019d drawn and letters written in Creole. They\u2019d lost so much, yet were so joyful.<\/p>\n <\/p>\n In the evening the children gathered in the dining room for devotions. They passed a Bible between them, taking turns reading aloud. One of the older children stood up to speak and then they all joined in song. The words were strange, but the tune sounded familiar. \u201c\u2018Amazing Grace!\u2019\u201d I said.<\/p>\n Carol grinned. \u201cI\u2019ll bet you\u2019ve never heard it sung in Creole!\u201d<\/p>\n The children recited the Lord\u2019s Prayer and settled down. In the silence, a quiet buzzing noise began. I looked around for its source. Had some tropical insects gotten into the place?<\/p>\n Then I realized the buzz came from the children themselves as they prayed, each one in a whispered, intense conversation with God.<\/p>\n As Carol had promised, it was a busy week. We drove up to villages in the mountains and visited medical clinics. We passed out toothpaste, soap and special buckets that filtered out bacteria from the water. There was so much to do I had no time to dwell on my own feelings.<\/p>\n But one afternoon toward the end of the week, sitting in the playroom of the orphanage, I felt like something was missing. It was as if something I\u2019d carried for a long time was gone. What was it?<\/p>\n One of the girls handed me a note in Creole. A translator read it out to me: \u201cDear Michelle,\u201d it said, \u201cI am very happy that you came to Haiti. I think that you are very happy too.\u201d<\/p>\n Tears sprang to my eyes. She was right. I was happy. The wall of pressure in my chest had disappeared.<\/p>\n My love for Bob was there, strong as ever. I still missed him and I knew I always would. But I was myself again. The children here did more than distract me from my grief. They taught me through example that I could feel joy in spite of it.<\/p>\n The next day the children sang us a farewell song. I kissed each of them good-bye. \u201cAre you coming back?\u201d one of the girls asked.<\/p>\n \u201cYes,\u201d I said. And I would, as often as I could. Because My Father\u2019s House was filled to overflowing with little angels who\u2019d given me far more than I could give back in return.<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":" Mail lay scattered across the kitchen table. I couldn\u2019t put off sorting through it any longer. I flipped through the envelopes, putting aside the ones addressed to my husband. It had been over three years since Bob had died from complications after minor surgery. To friends and family it looked like I had moved past […]<\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":2,"featured_media":29493,"comment_status":"open","ping_status":"open","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"_acf_changed":false,"ep_exclude_from_search":false,"footnotes":"","_wpscppro_dont_share_socialmedia":false,"_wpscppro_custom_social_share_image":0,"_facebook_share_type":"","_twitter_share_type":"","_linkedin_share_type":"","_pinterest_share_type":"","_linkedin_share_type_page":"","_instagram_share_type":"","_medium_share_type":"","_threads_share_type":"","_google_business_share_type":"","_bluesky_share_type":"","_mastodon_share_type":"","_selected_social_profile":[],"_wpsp_enable_custom_social_template":false,"_wpsp_social_scheduling":{"enabled":false,"datetime":null,"platforms":[],"status":"template_only","dateOption":"today","timeOption":"now","customDays":"","customHours":"","customDate":"","customTime":"","schedulingType":"absolute"},"_wpsp_active_default_template":true},"categories":[246],"tags":[19,51],"ppma_author":[1038],"class_list":["post-21684","post","type-post","status-publish","format-standard","has-post-thumbnail","hentry","category-healing","tag-angels-on-earth","tag-inspirational-stories"],"acf":[],"yoast_head":"\n