Haiti.

Dear Haiti,

I'm thinking of you. I didn't think much of you before, I'll admit. My focus has been on other times, other places. My Haitian friend always told me life was hard there; but she certainly loved you very much. Now the whole world is watching. It took a 7.0 earthquake to get the world to stop and see you - a beautiful island, independent, and torn by tragedy and corruption. Now books will be written AND read - about you and your people. Your tumultuous history, your struggle for sovereignty and freedom. The wealth that was deprived you. I'm sorry that it took so long to notice - that it took so much death and destruction for us to notice.

I want to go to you. I long to go to you. Nothing would please me more than to be there, sifting through broken walls and dismantled lives, side by side with you. Why it feels so close to my heart, I don't know. Why I feel like I've lost a distant cousin, I don't know. Your children, siblings, and parents will be missed. I hope you find all of them. I hope that no one gets lost in the rubble because it's too much to clean up. As you travel by foot to the hospital in search of your friends, know that the delay is not because they are unimportant. The world is watching, waiting, and praying that you will find your friends and family. The doctors are doing everything within their abilities to save their lives.

I'm sorry that everything is so scientific. I'm sorry that the day after, an article is published about why Haiti is prone to dangerous quakes. I'm sorry for the unintended "I told you so" attitude that is filling the gap that should be filled by prayer and compassion. When you go to your home, and see it in a pile, I pray that God will give you the clarity to remember that you were able to survive it's collapse and that God is your home. He is your roof, wall, and floor that will never collapse. When you see your child's school on the ground, remember that learning happens everywhere. Learning doesn't need walls. And if your child is among the missing, you know where to look. Remember that love, like learning, has no walls. Your love for them will help you to endure through the hours of recovery. You will not sleep, nor will you stop to eat. You will move planks, boulders, metal, and glass. You will cut your hands and feet but will not notice. You will hear the cries of other parents, and you will brace yourself. That afternoon you saw them - the memory of their tiny voice and beautiful smile renews your strength. You will find them and hold them again, even if they cannot hold you back. But when they are able to put their arms around your neck, and you feel the warmth of their body, you will be whole again. How I wish I could help you find them.

Husbands, wives, lovers - as you search all of the likely places for your partners, be prepared. Their workplace is eerily quiet. As you survey the scene, a hole grows in your stomach. But you hear a familiar voice calling your name. Blood rushes to your skin and you run in the direction of the voice. When you can't find them at work or at home, you go to the hospital. There are many bodies to look through. When you find them, you will take a moment to remember the beauty and color they added to your lives when you see their empty faces. How I wish I could comfort you. Children, when you said goodbye to your parents that day when the earth shook, remember that YOU are their purpose. They'd be pleased to know that you survived. Don't stop searching for them. Don't give up hope. Soon you will know, and when that time comes, you must take care of them.

Brothers and sisters, as you run to each others' houses in urgent hope, what you see won't make you stop crying their names and tearing through the ruins. When you hear them quietly call your name from beneath the mess, your heart pounds through your chest and you dig until your fingernails are nearly coming off. When you don't hear them, and you can't decide where to start digging, you take your best guess and it won't always take long to find them. I'm sorry that no one is there to help you.

As you're pulled from the wreckage, Haiti, I'll be watching and waiting. You're cut up and bruised, but breathing. You will never forget that day, and you will use that day and all the days following to build a better future. All I can do is pray for you. I wish I could do more.

Sincerely,

Missy