Running. Fleeing. Taking with them only whatever they can carry. Where will they go? Where will they sleep? Will they ever get to go back?
How long will it take to unpack the trauma? How many nightmares will the children have? How many rapes and murders and killings will the mamas witness while they scream and run and hide from flying bullets?
Can you imagine? You can’t drive to the next city. You don’t own a car. You can’t use a debit card to buy groceries and stay in a hotel.
You don’t have a bank account.
You can’t call family members, there’s no electricity to charge a phone.
You can’t run to the police. You can’t use food stamps. You can’t find help because there isn’t any.
You’re on your own. Running. Fleeing. Trying to stay alive because life is still worth living. That’s the reality for some.
My heart breaks because these streets use to be walkable. The ones we’d take to go to grocery stores and restaurants. Trips to the airport to fly in and out and all the excitement for each entry and exit.
And then everything changed. A plane took a bullet the other day. Another bullet broke glass and entered the departure area in the Port Au Prince airport. Supposedly 1,100 people were hurt, killed and/or kidnapped in January alone according to some statistics. All around people are starving and hurting, feeling hopelessly alone living in a war zone crying out to God for help.
I wonder all the time if when my 2 baby girls died had they been in another country with better medical care, would they still be with me… and that was several years ago when the country was actually functioning. Now hospitals in the Capital barely can stay open or have
already shut the doors completely because of the gangs.
Just put yourself in their shoes for a minute. Feel the pain and fear their daily lives face. Take the time to pray for these people who live a life we’ve never imagined. Count your blessings. We have so many. And remember, it is not their fault. They don’t deserve this. It’s heartbreaking and it’s not fair.
Jesus, come.
