Normal is a Dryer Setting.

"Life isn't normal. . . normal is a dryer setting."
This is a quote from Jessica, a Canadian nurse, last night at dinner.

That quote pretty much sums up where my head was at yesterday. We headed out to tour the city again: same buildings still down, much of the same sights, the center of the Palace is crumbling even further. In a lot of ways I'm pretty immune to seeing destroyed buildings, but I am NOT yet immune to the human suffering that these tours reveal.

At the clinic Rosemon is an 8 year old boy who was trapped for 3 days in rubble. All his siblings and parents are dead. It's just him and grandma. (Whole story on Jared and Jalayne's blog). He is a miracle and has been bouncing around the clinic for the last few weeks with his bandaged head, goofy high pitched voice, and gimpy little walk. He's ornery and a sweetheart--always getting into something, but always smiling. After we got back to the hospital in the afternoon we noticed he was completely silent and reserved..he wouldn't walk with us or anything. In Jessica's ear I heard him barely whisper "My dad is dead. My mom is dead,"-tears spilling down his face. That rattled me a lot.

I snuck away to the swings to try and clear my head, and I kept getting hit with the realization that THIS is now what is "normal". How can everything an entire country once knew change in 50-some odd seconds? Normal now means living in a sweltering tent. Normal is begging for food. Normal is missing body parts. Normal is continuing life without the ones that used to fill that life.

Grief is definitely a processes and Rosemon reminded me of how intense and long that process is going to be all across this country. I wish I knew where to start. Haiti is a whole nation grieving, that will one day have to process this grief. Haiti is now an entire country full of people scared to go into buildings. How do you treat that?

We had a 4.7 aftershock this morning around 4:30 am. I slept through it mostly, but many of the other medical team members were jostled out of their sleep (some even heading outside). Winni, a Haitian nurse at the field hospital, said all the Haitian people on her street went running outside. We had another one mid morning. I didn't really notice that one either, but the last two days I have been feeling some tremors--the ground just seems a little more active the last two days. According to geologists, there is a 90% chance of a 5.0 quake in the next month.

Last night's church service rings loud in my ears. Jon said the safest place on Earth is in the middle of God's will. How true this is. I know He called me to be in Haiti for this time, and I know His hand is on me and the others that He brought together... so that is my comfort during my time here--aftershocks, predictions and all.

"I will lie down and sleep in peace, for you alone, O Lord, make me dwell in safety" ~Psalm 4:8

In Christ in Haiti (as Jon and Beth say),
Alisha

Things to keep in prayer here:
Those in the tents as rainy season approaches (it's rained a lot more this last week)
People here grieving over lost loved ones
People (Haitian and Volunteers) that are wrestling with their faith and God
Jon and Beth McHoul as they continue to run this hospital
Jared and Jalayne Coblentz