We were blessed in Haiti. You may have noticed. We can’t seem to stop talking about it. Everything reminds us of something there. We hope we’ll never be the same. I really wish you could see it when our team gets together. It’s like a family reunion. Minus a few members a ways down south. (You know who you are.)
We thought we’d had our adventure and returned to the real world. Time to get serious. We kept saying psychically proper things about readjusting and processing and sharing and all that. The psychologists would have been impressed. We thought we were out of school and into a quiet, meditative evening.
Well, we were wrong.
It started with Kent getting sick. Fever. Hospital. Doctors weren’t quite sure what to call it. Then it was my mom’s turn. Then Alnetta. Then Michelle. Then Larry, Josh, and Brandon. We were dropping like flies. On Sunday, we counted our numbers and asked each other who was going to be next.
We were only half-joking.
Yesterday we got the call from the local clinic, asking us all to please report. They had a state official waiting specially for us. And masks. And a very official sign taped to the door. “If you are coming from Haiti, please put a mask on before entering clinic. Thank you.” In pink. And please don’t use the front door.
We were starting to feel like we’d unwittingly walked into Area 51. Or the Einstein Project. Or something. But we donned our masks like good little children, took a scolding for being too cheerful inside a very soberly-run professional clinic, had our blood drawn, and were let loose and infectious out into the world again. Obviously, whatever we have, they didn’t think it was catching.
The next day (today) three of us checked into the hospital. Three of us that are still there. Low blood platelet count. Which as far as I can tell means that your blood is turning into Gatorade when it ought to be more like clam chowder. But if you want a more professional version, ask my sister. There’s a reason why she holds a stethoscope, and I hold a guitar.
So, my mom and Josh and Alnetta are still in the hospital as of tonight, 10:38 p.m. We had an hour and a half prayer meeting at the church and came away encouraged. But it’s pretty easy to be encouraged when you’re one of the healthy ones. The God who defeated all hell and the grave is the same God who has power over a nasty microscopic virus whizzing around on the wings of an obnoxious mosquito. A mosquito I very much hope has been squashed beneath some colorful Haitian flip-flop.
Our God is a faithful God and a God who is mighty to save. We have prayed, even though we’re not always quite sure precisely what to say. We are asking you to pray too.
