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| A view of Delmas 31 from the rooftop of the school |
I have this really great teacher chair in my classroom in New Hampshire. It fits under my old-fashioned desk perfectly and gives my tall self plenty of room. It's simple and wooden and is comfortable without being too cushy. My students have to work out a system to take turns sitting at my desk because the seat is so coveted. It sits on rollers and can spin slightly, but will start to squeak out in distress if a kiddo decides to turn it into some sort of a carnival ride. It's easily the most favored seat in the room. Last year my principal organized new furniture for my classroom, which was supposed to include a new teacher chair. I was greeted by the unwelcome sight of a big, black, cushy monstrosity squished behind my desk and had a little moment of panic. Where was my simple little wooden teacher's chair that fits so perfectly and comfortably into our classroom? Thankfully with a little bit of persuading, my principal agreed to let me keep my old, squeaky hatchback-of-a-chair and gave the black SUV-of-chairs to another teacher.
Today I was thinking about the importance of seats.
This morning we went into the ravine with the baby feeding program. This program is one of the ministries of the Christian Light School, which seeks to serve the community living in the nearby "ravine." From ages 0-3 years, the children of the ravine are provided with vitamins and food and medical care by the school. At age 3 the children start school where they recieve two meals a day. It's all a part of a larger vision of giving a whole community access to education. A community that would never be able to afford to send their children to school otherwise.
Going with the baby feeders is always an emotional experience. We are walking through one of the most impoverished parts of the city and entering into some of the most humbling moments of the lives of the residents there. What's more, we stand out as the only white people in the vicinity. It's easy to note our foreign status as kiddos (and sometimes adults) shout out to us, "Blan, Blan!" "White! White!" These shouts are always friendly and welcoming, but it makes you feel kind of like you're part of a strange parade working the way through the neighborhood.
The ravine area has grown up a lot since I visited last summer. The biggest change is a beautiful bridge that some friends of the school built to make access to the ravine easier. I don't usually bring my camera into the ravine when we are just going to visit because it feels like a big intrusion on the families who live there. I'll do my best to describe today's experience with words.
When you walk from the school to the ravine you walk through the street market of Delmas 31, the part of the city where the school and the families are located. The ravine opens up as you walk through small, crowded alleys surrounded by walls on concrete and tin, music and boisterous conversations. Today there were the three American summer school teachers walking along with Mr. Wisnal and Mr. Jude, who carried the food for the feeding program. Normally we would make multiple stops along the way, standing around in the heat and sunlight while food and vitamins are given to the precious children. This year though, there were seats! To be more specific, there were benches that were stored in the little church area of the ravine. When we arrived at our first stop, there were about 20 little ones waiting with mothers and older siblings for their food. They were seated comfortably on strong wooden benches placed carefully in the shade of a concrete wall.
In this moment when these mothers look to the generosity of others to care for the most basic needs of their little ones, it seems like having a place to sit can affirm in them a bit of dignity. No matter how much we smile, wave, and try to converse in broken Creole with the mothers and their children, the reality of the situation is staring us in the face. We are outsiders coming to see someone else feed these children. It is both a beautiful testimony to the gospel of grace and a heart-breaking declaration of the brokenness of this world that is wrought with poverty and sickness and need. Thankfully these mothers tend to be very gracious with visitors. They smile and converse politely, sharing the names and ages of their little ones as we try to greet them with a sincere love that speaks without language.
As those mothers and little ones sat on the benches, I reflected on how such a small thing can make such a big statement. You are valuable. You have worth. We care about your safety and well-being and even your comfort. We want to partner with you, to come alongside you in the task of raising children in a place where food and shelter and clean water can be difficult to come by. We want to empower you and your families with the hope of the gospel of Jesus and the opportunities that education can afford. This is a small piece of a larger puzzle - seeking to bring empowerment to a people and place that have felt the despair and hopelessness of poverty and systemic corruption.
This bench reminds me of another seat, of sorts. It reminds me of the humble resting place of the infant Jesus. Born into humanity, taking on the humble form of flesh, he was placed in a manger - an animal's feeding trough. It wasn't the shining throne that He rightfully deserved, but that crude wooden structure served the purpose. It provided for the need - a place for the God of the Universe to enter into humanity. The story of Jesus as Emmanuel, God with us, is a beautiful story of humility and servanthood and above all, love.
Today, as I watched Wisnal and Jude dispense vitamins and distribute mango and eggs and bread and peanut butter, I couldn't help but think of the humility and servanthood and love they were living out. As I watched these mothers gratefully accept these important gifts, I prayed that they would know the true source of this love - Jesus, who came to earth as an infant in a manger and died as a scorned, mocked and rejected Savior, and rule, seated on the throne, as King over heaven and earth. He has suffered all to redeem those He loves.
Thank you for following along with me on this summer's journey to Haiti! We start summer school next week and I look forward to seeing my teacher friends and working with the students and staff at Christian Light School. Thank you for your prayers and encouragement! Prayers that you would be keenly aware of the grace and love of God, where ever you may be sitting!
Much love in Christ, Jessie
