Sun and Sand for Christmas

December 24-27th,

Merry Christmas to our friends and family.

The Christmas holiday in Haiti, we are told, is quietly celebrated with family. Patrick and I, partly escaping homesickness, partly relieving our partners from any obligation to entertain us, left for the beach Christmas Eve. With us we took the closest people to family we have here: the French couple who have been in Haiti almost as long as we have undergoing one setback after another in the adoption of their beautiful Haitian child, Christanor. They are without easy transportation or an organization that can show them the ropes, so when we offered to drive them to the beach and take them to an affordable hotel by the ocean for the holidays, they eagerly accepted.

I’d like to mention here that in the matter of 2 or 3 weeks since our last trip north, Haiti has done remarkable things to the National Highway. We quickly noticed a smother ride, less potholes, new asphalt, less dust than our previous endeavor that left the Galloper limping badly.

We spent Christmas by the ocean, letting the marine breezes wash away feelings of homesickness, inviting the hot sun to bring feelings of warmth and relaxation. The ebb and flow of the tides, the waves licking the beach were the perfect meditative background to a time of reflection.

We enjoyed spending time with the Soulier’s, learning a bit of French as they learned a bit of English, together delighting in Christanor’s tactics and mannerisms. He is child that is eager to please, dances to any beat, and loves cars and the swimming pool beyond all else. He is child that is easily affectionate, yet carries a lifetime of separation behind his eyes. Silvy and Jerome tell us of the nightmares he has in his sleep, of his crying and head banging against his pillow. It must devastate them in the darkness of night. But in the day, Christanor comes to animated life. He makes us laugh, and recognizes when he is funny. He pretends to have a mouth full of water, and squirts us instead with air. He walks like a clown, and shoots us with crazy-man-eyes to watch us dissolve into laughter. How can a 3 year-old be so accommodating? But he is. He is heartbreaking and delightful. And the love of the Sulier’s trumps all others. I trust that their love for him will heal the wounds of his earliest years. Christanor seems willing to try. He is vying for an audience, and he has found an easy one.

We spent many moments in the ocean, on the beach finding countless perfect seashells. On my trips to American beaches, we felt lucky to find a perfect shell… they were always so expertly combed. But Haiti has yet to find the consumerism of the beach industry (well, lets say the consumerism was cut short by political upheaval which sent consumers running to different Caribbean islands that didn’t throw poverty and violence into their sunny island vacations.) The beach was full of perfectly spiraled seashells… a Floridian beach shop on sand without teller or price tag.

We spent hours just floating. I let myself lay back in the salty Caribbean sea, easily buoyed by the ocean, my hearing dulled by the acoustics of water, meditating on my body feeling weightless, warm water carrying me on a wave, sun kissing my face, insecurities, fears and frustrations dissolving into the salty depths.

We watched sunsets together with the reverence that comes with a spiritual moment recognized, a togetherness celebrated, a visual feast to the end of day noted.

And now we are back home, sun kissed, more relaxed, with a bright new perspective.

Today we were asked to attend a meeting for with an unknown agenda and an unknown audience. We arrived at the time we were asked, but apparently an hour late. My initial flair of frustration subsided quickly. It didn’t’ matter if we’re late. The meeting isn’t about us. We were introduced in the end and welcomed heartily. The subject of the meeting, largely lost on us without a translator, didn’t matter in the long run. This was Haitian business for Haitians. We are here in solidarity. We are here to help when asked. When it is important for us to know, we have to trust that we’ll know. In the meantime we take the peace of the ocean with us. We learn from the ebb and flow of the tides. We hope that the fuchsia splashed colors of the Caribbean sunset keep us humble in our expectations, remind us to be a presence of service, not demanding of information.

Ah the New Years resolutions. To take the lessons of yesterday and apply them to tomorrow. To foster the positive, the hopeful, the capable and the shun the doubt, the frustration, the teeth grinding. To leave self-interest at the doorstep and enter with an openness to learning, to seeking, to serving, to entering into relationships.

Any time of difficulty at best can be times of self-reflection. If we are honest with ourselves, we can look at the dirty parts of our soul and do some spring-cleaning. There is always work to be done, always growth to be fertilized, always fruits to be harvested if we are willing to be that honest, to be that dedicated. And hopefully out of a dive into the depths of self, we can arise and bring a better gift to the people around us, to our partners, our friends, our family, our neighbors, our community.

May the resolutions begin.