The clinic we served in a few weeks ago was the same clinic we were in days after Hurricane Matthew.
When I walked into the clinic this time, I immediately remembered what it was like back in October; I remembered where the hospital beds were lining the hallways, the faces of the people, & the weary doctors & staff.
I looked into each of the rooms & reflected on who was in those rooms & beds in October:
- the babies with cholera & those literal life-giving IV bags.
- the mamas & daddies standing over the beds holding their little ones’ hands praying the medicines would work.
- the strength of each person as they had their wounds cleaned & bandaged.
This time, that very same clinic was vastly different. There is still a great need in the community, but there was order in the chaos. There were scars instead of wounds. There was a calm healing on faces of the clinic staff instead of a chaotic uncertainty of what to do.
I rounded one hallway where I vividly remember a beautiful little girl lying on a bed with an IV in her tiny arm, pumping life into her frail body. This time, there was no bed, but a waiting room full of parents & their little ones waiting to be seen by the Haitian malnutrition specialist to try to get their babes strong & healthy. What a gift!
This little girl marked me. We locked eyes, she pretended to be timid for about 2 seconds, & then she busted out giggling. I greeted her with a kiss on each cheek, which she returned again & again & again – giggling each time. A nurse next to me picked up my camera & snapped a few photos. I cherish these. This very same clinic hallway is where I was weary at the brokenness of this world & the hell that people go through, is the same hallway where I saw a tangible redemption & grace of God.
Redemption is evident. The Lord is making things new. It’s a promise & He’s faithful. And often, He gives us tangible glimpses of this holy work that He’s up to & that He’s invited us into. That week was a glimpse for me. He’s good & He’s doing good, always.