Connections

Cyndi Sax
Haiti Mission Team

Imagine a Norman Rockwell-esque portrait of a young father, dressed in dark, tailored slacks, a clean, starched white-collared shirt and impeccably knotted necktie. He is well-groomed, his hair closely cropped, head held high. In his left arm, he holds a young child, hair in pigtails and dressed in a frilly pink dress. Her arm is wrapped tightly around his neck, and she looks pleased and confident to be viewing the world from this elevated position. Holding his right hand is a slightly older child, similarly dressed in pastel, with white Mary Jane’s on her feet and what appears to be a Bible tucked under her free arm. She swings her arms as she walks, skips a step, and smiles up at her father. In Rockwell’s world, the backdrop would be a serene, suburban neighborhood with green grass, manicured yards, a family dog happily frolicking at their side.

Now change the color of the trio’s skin from fair to rich ebony. The girls’ pigtails are not blonde, but black; tied not with two silken bows, but tens of colorful, plastic barrettes. The three walk down a hilly, rocky dirt path between rows of shanties roughly constructed of cinder blocks, rock, sheets of metal, tarps, cardboard and an assortment of other odd materials. Although a family pet is not immediately visible, I note two chickens hopping alongside and a goat tied to a post not far away.

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It is Sunday morning in Port-au-Prince. Like families in our homeland and around the world, this family appears to be on their way to church. They capture my attention as we quickly drive past, one vehicle in the chaotic mass of motos, tap-taps and pedestrians that make the way through the bustling city streets and alleys. 

I keep the three in sight for as long as I am able, which is not long enough, for I am curious; and they are walking in the opposite direction from which we are driving. I want to know them. I want to know what their daily life is like, what is important to them, what makes them happy, what are their needs. And yet, they have answered some of my questions without me ever needed to speak to them. The physical connection between this young man and the girls expresses love and tenderness. Their step is light, their facial expressions relaxed and content. Do they call one of the shacks their home? Do they have enough food to eat? Where is the woman they call wife and mother? What are their prayers? What do they know that I could learn?  

I feel connection with this young family. I recognize that regardless of whether we live in poverty or affluence, in a third world or first world country; regardless of the color of our skin or size of our home, we all crave connection and closeness with each other and with the Creator.  I say a prayer of gratitude for my family and those to whom I am closest.  I pray that this young family in Haiti will be blessed with the love, support and comfort that I have received from my family and community. And I pray that we will all learn to look past our differences and to see our shared humanness with compassion, kindness and love.