First Church

Sunday March 08, 2009

I'm sitting in our "office" listening to the chimes ring in the Sunday afternoon breeze, and there is a little baby laying on my chest completely cashed out.

Today we had our first church together. I have to admit, I woke up early this morning with nerves fluttering in my stomach. I shuffled about the dark apartment while the boys slept getting everything ready, making sure Solomon's one "nice" outfit was clean and dry (have to hand wash his clothes at night) to wear to church, started worrying about our first public appearance together as a family. I packed a diaper bag, but knew we'd have to leave it in the car. Solomon would have to eat before and after church only... no need flaunting fancy diapers and bottles amongst children of the church, some of whom wouldn't get more than one or two meals today. I was nervous largely because I was afraid how we'd be perceived.

I've always cared a little too much about what people think. Despite the fact that I've never felt so sure of anything as I have of this little warm body on my sleeping on my chest right now, I struggle with encountering a public who might not know our intentions or understand know our heart.

I admitted my worries to Patrick when he got up. He was worried too. "First days" are hard at anything.

A group is in town; they arrived last night. Its our first group of teenagers. Of course they went crazy for Solomon last night meeting him for the first time. He was wildly popular and the girls' first glimpse of Haiti. I'd like to believe he made a good impression. At least a lot of love was declared for his chubby cheeks and dark brown eyes.

Church, despite all my fretting, was beautiful. I was aware of stares as I entered with Solomon in my arms. I tried to exude as much compassion and love as I greeted the church-goers upon our entry, hoping my own attempts at bridging barriers would be received well and would help dissipate distrust in a white woman toting around a tiny Haitian baby. Thankfully today we visited a church Patrick and I had been to before. The pastor knows us and is on the CONASPEH board. We introduced Solomon to him, told him that we were "taking care" of this baby, but hoped to adopt him some day. The pastor accpted our news with a smile and welcomed us in. Solomon then sat through an entire 2 1/2 hour church service looking around with his big brown eyes, being passed from one teen girl to the next, taking in the music and the noise and the prayers and all the holding and touching as if it were just another day at the office. Not even so much as a peep of discontent.

I felt emotional at church... likely from a morning's worth of relief flooding off my shoulders when we weren't met with hostility but rather love. After I settled the needless worry and relaxed, I became immediately aware of all the Haitian women behind me smiling at Solomon and nodding at me.

The most bizarre moment of the day came when a woman behind me reached forward and shared her bible with me during the scripture reading. I thanked her graciously, and looked down at the page she had marked. But no enlightenment was to be had for me in that reading... at least not from her book. The bible was written in German. I'm guessing her own bible study has been a bit fruitless with that book, likely a gift from a well-meaning soul. I wondered if she was even literate... wondered if she had any idea that her bible was written in a language most around her couldn't interpret. I could write an entire blog on the significance of this observation, of the way it represented so much of the outside world's best intentions on "helping Haiti" yet is often done in a way that isn't sensitive to what Haiti needs. But I will save that post for another day.

So today marked our first public appearance, one of many such encounters. And I pray Patrick and I will get better and more confident at it as Solomon becomes more and more our own. As much as he can be.

The little king and I bowed out of the afternoon activities with the group today. He slurped down a bottle, did a lot of talking to me and has finally succumbed to sleep. He was only down for 45 minutes when he started squaking... was looking tired, but making the "my tummy hurts" cry. So I cuddled him a bit. He then proceeded to explode with great gusto something mighty in his pants. He then, feeling much better, promptly fell asleep curled up on my stomach. And here I sit, with a dirty pants project to anticipate. I was warned how glamorous motherhood can be...