Quiet

Haiti girl falls sad last night and the language barrier makes trouble shooting all but impossible.  She skips lunch and dinner but shows no sign of being ill.  She falls asleep on my lap late afternoon and spends the evening moping about, not interested in play or food or anything.  We pull out Haiti photobooks and turn pages on her past and remember friends and her Haitian home.  She asks to go to bed early and I pray over her as she falls asleep.

And today she continues to mourn her former home and we mourn with her.  Even the sky is cold and grey.  No food.  Very little drink.  An occasional silent tear.  And today is the first day I ask if she’s ready to go home when we are out and she shakes her head “no”, so I ask if she wants to go back to Haiti and she nods “yes”.  And my heart breaks for her.  Homesickness and sadness can be so consuming.

And this inability to really communicate has so far been the hardest part for us. No easy way to understand what she’s really feeling.  No easy way to convey what we want to say.  And if this is the hardest we get then praise the Lord, because we know that this is only temporary and the words will come.  The Lord is merciful and gracious and He is with us, but right now the silence is deafening.

For His Glory ~

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