HELP ME TO REMEMBER
I write this as I travel back from Haiti, sitting on an
airplane in the comforts of air conditioning. Walking through clean terminals
where garbage cans are plentiful and the floors are mopped. The furniture my
fellow travelers rest upon is in good condition. Food choices seem limitless
and water fountains are stationed every couple hundred feet. The people around
me wear clothes that are clean. They reach into their carry-on bags and nonchalantly
remove personal belongings to keep them entertained - magazines, books, iPads,
cell phones, snacks.
This day of travel is proceeded by a week of intense heat and dust. A week of walking around bumpy, gravel streets lined with rubbish. Passing people in ragged, worn clothing and some with no clothing at all. Seeing children whose bellies protrude and whose hair has turned orange due to malnourishment. Peering into homes where furniture doesn't exist beyond the dirt floor that lies beneath the home's inhabitants.
I sit on this plane amongst the comfort and familiarity I have known and taken for granted my whole life and I want to cry. I want to cry because I don't want to forget...and I fear that I will. I don't want to allow myself to fall victim to "out of sight, out of mind”. Because when we forget is when the compassion and helping stops.
This day of travel is proceeded by a week of intense heat and dust. A week of walking around bumpy, gravel streets lined with rubbish. Passing people in ragged, worn clothing and some with no clothing at all. Seeing children whose bellies protrude and whose hair has turned orange due to malnourishment. Peering into homes where furniture doesn't exist beyond the dirt floor that lies beneath the home's inhabitants.
I sit on this plane amongst the comfort and familiarity I have known and taken for granted my whole life and I want to cry. I want to cry because I don't want to forget...and I fear that I will. I don't want to allow myself to fall victim to "out of sight, out of mind”. Because when we forget is when the compassion and helping stops.
So I turn to God and ask him to help me remember…
Help me to remember the little orphan girl trying to fix her
broken shoe with playdough, because she doesn’t have a spare pair or a mother
to buy her new shoes.
Help me remember the poverty stricken families fighting desperately
over water in the slums.
Help me remember the disabled children and adults lying in cribs
suffering from life threatening illnesses covered in flies and vomit.
Help me remember the man who suffers from leprosy and has
nobody to care for him or ease his pain.
Help me to remember the frail, suffering neighbor who is stolen
from, who is hungry, and who eats the food we bring as quickly as we hand it to
him. He eats to live in the truest sense.
…Dear lord, help me to remember, because I don't want to forget. Help me remember and I promise to help them.
Emily Brau
Well written Emily!!!! I hope we can go together agin. Hugs. (Ann)
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