Broken Houses, Broken Homes and Broken Hearts...

The damage is easy to see. Everywhere you look there are broken houses. What is harder to see is the broken homes.

Late last night we found an older man with severe injury to his hand. He had lost one finger and two others were severely crushed along with a deep cut in the palm of his hand. His bandages were makeshift and old. Dried blood covered the rag. When we told him we wanted to take him to a Doctor, he followed us to our truck. He must have thought the Doctor was at the truck. When we asked him to climb on to go to the clinic he told us he didn't want to go. He said he was waiting for his wife to come back and if he left, she might not find him. We asked how long she had been gone. He told us he hadn't seen her since the earthquake. It was heartbreaking... he still had hope... and he was willing to suffer to keep it alive. We begged him to go, promised him we would bring him back... the neighbors at the refugee camp said they would tell her where he was when she comes... after a while, he climbed on board. It is heartbreaking to think he may never see her again.

I asked God tonight, how many times can my heart break... cause it's breaking all the time.

I've been staying at Troy and Tara Livesay's house. A missionary family from Minnesota. They have been not only gracious to let me stay but have also taken in other children from other missionaries that have returned to the US. Two little boys have been staying in my room. The youngest Amis, about 5 years old wakes up every morning around 3AM and climbs into bed with me. It is so precious and at the same time heartbreaking to know that this little child of God has no one other than me to hold and comfort him in the middle of the night.

Tara told me today that the boys were flying to the US. One was going to his adoptive family in Houston Texas, the other to a family in Dallas. When I got back from my days work, the boys were all dressed in their very best to meet their new families. They were so excited. I was so excited for them. It was hard to watch them go.

Later in the evening after dinner, the truck returned from the airport where 27 children were flying to meet their new parents. In the front seat of the truck was Ronel, the 6-7 year old that was staying in my room. I asked why he was still here and Tara told me it was because they needed one more paper for him. The other children got to go. She said she hoped they could get the needed paperwork tomorrow. I would never wish for you to see the disappointment on Ronel's face because it would crush your heart... it did mine. It was dark and the power was off. He went into our room, laid down on the bed, pulled the sheets up and sobbed. It was so sad. Tara came in and talked to him in Kreole... I'm not sure what she said but I know she was trying to comfort him. After a time she got up and left as I sat across the room. I could not leave him by himself. I went over and motioned for him to move over and I laid down next to him. The tears were pouring out of him. He was still in his new clothes as he fell asleep. Here is a picture of him as he slept.

As you read this this evening, or tomorrow morning, please keep Ronel in your prayers. Pray that God will provide the necessary documentation that will allow him to go home to his new family... pray that God will grant him peace and comfort until that happens. Heavenly Father, we need you now. My heart is breaking. You are our hope.

Ronel loved to play with my digital camera. Here are a few of his pictures he took.