It's not that I don't have anything to say...
I have a lot to say.
To complain about.
There are relationships in flux: some in ascent, some in descent.
Others are no longer viable, it seems.
There are letters and emails to be written.
A book or two as well.
There are phone calls that are long overdue.
And several that will most likely never be made.
Apologies to extend.
There is a lot to say.
There is a lot to do as well.
Gym classes to attend.
Meals to be planned, cooked, cleaned up after.
Food to be purchased and stored.
Lessons to write and rewrite and then teach.
Books to be read. Notes to be taken.
Journal pages to be filled.
Floors to be swept and mopped.
Carpets to be vacuumed and cleaned.
Toilets to be swished and sinks to be swiped.
Bills to be paid.
Taxes to be filed.
But for the past week, none of it seems to matter much
because I keep thinking about mothers in Haiti.
About mothers in mourning over lost children.
Mothers in anguish over hungry children and sick children.
Mothers who have no idea of the status of their children.
Somehow I can't imagine that there are too many mothers in Haiti who are worried about whether their sons are winning tennis tournaments two states away. Or whether they have burned enough calories at the gym to eat a vegan peanut butter cookie after dinner. Or where the free vouchers are for the local car wash. Or how their children will do on standardized tests in three months.
For the past week, I have prayed for Haitian mothers and daughters and fathers and sons. I have sent some money. And I have prayed some more - and none of it feels like enough. I have called friends with ties to Haiti to find out what they have heard: the news, as we all know, is mostly dire. I translated a plea for help on Sunday morning - a remarkable Haitian man making an appeal in Spanish to Latino people. I translated his words into English for the Americans in the crowd. I was glad to be of assistance - and managed to hold back my tears...for the most part.
I can't get beyond how helpless and useless and so very selfish I feel for thinking about calories and cookies and shampoo and saving for college and homeschool assignments and holes in my socks and organic salad and biodegradable laundry detergent. So I am keeping my petty concerns to myself - for the moment anyway.
No, it's not that I don't have anything to say. It's just that most of what I was planning to say doesn't matter much these days. And the only stuff that matters right now is being muttered under my breath, through clenched teeth and fists, over and over and over.
"Lord, have mercy.
Please let the food and water and tents and medical supplies get distributed soon.
Christ have mercy.
Why Haiti? Didn't they have enough problems already?
Lord, have mercy."