Church in Lebou

*View of church*

This morning we were guests at a church in a very poor neighborhood outside of town. The building was designed by a network of wooden poles and billowing, patchwork walls of plastic and cloth creating a tent-like atmosphere. Unlike in more sturdy, concrete churches, light illuminated the walls and a breeze danced through the space. The poorest of churches seem to have the warmest of hospitality. I sat in the women-with-children section and soon had several rows full of new acquaintances who were more than happy to help me take care of my overly energetic 10-month-old as he walked from pew to pew, balancing on strangers knees, holding all sorts of hands, and being scolded by many a concerned face as he tried to put rocks in his mouth. The church was as ragged as we've seen, but full of spirit and fresh air.
*Childcare help from the community*

I have to admit, I love my new "mom" status that allows me a realistic excuse not to sit up front and center, but in the pews with the people (usually toward the back in case a quick escape for an emergency diaper change is needed). In this new vantage point, I'm allowed quick bonds of friendship with the people of the church, and I relish that. I can't tell you how quickly the status of "mom" takes me into relationships with women here. I have somehow passed a test and am admitted into a warm community of women who take care of each other's children, have incredible patience with baby-antics, and delight in the silly thinks our kids do.

Today is my birthday, and Patrick leaked the news to the preacher. As my cheeks blazed red (heat or embarrassment? hmmm probably a combo), the entire church sang me the "happy birthday" song, first in French, and then in staggering English that sounded a lot like, "hoppy berf-day to yoooouuu." It was great and loving and energetic. I was newly amazed at how quickly a church we've never been to before can feel like our own community church in a single visit, such is the hospitality and welcome here.
*Paying attention to the sermon, Soloman?*

Patrick preached on the palpable spirit of worship found as the people in Haiti lift up their voices in song. He celebrated all that we have come to love about the people and the spirit of this country. His message evolved into what the Haitian people have taught us about our call to be the mind of Jesus, to walk as Jesus walked.

I greeted the congregation giving them a little ditty about Sol and about our work in Haiti. Curiosity and whispers are easier dispelled when we can explain to a group at large how Solomon came into our lives. We've heard (usually amongst children) whispers debating whether Solomon is really our biological child and he just looks like a Haitian because he was born in Haiti. I like this rumor.
*Post-church consultation*

After church I had a mobile consultation time. Sundays I offer a session after church if requested by the pastor to simply be available to answer medical questions, do quick exams and write prescriptions if indicated. No meds are passed out, no money exchanged. It is instead a time where I can offer a little education, push some to seek a further medical evaluation and reassure others. The time has proven to help introduce communities to the CONASPEH clinic, and some of my "regulars" there came after we met in church. These sessions, however, are always potential minefields if the pastor doesn't do a good job of educating the congregation about the nature of the consultation and what was being offered. But this pastor was well informed and did a beautiful job.
*Patiently waiting a clinical exam*

I saw what felt like the entire congregation, but in a quick and efficient way... mostly giving advice, reassurance, writing a few prescriptions and recommending several follow-ups in the CONASPEH clinic. It was a happy morning. Hot, but happy. The pastor was pleased, and scheduled a mobile weekday clinic for later in October.

While I was seeing patients, Patrick started up some games with the neighborhood kids to pass a breezy Sunday afternoon. *Patrick starts ball game with neighborhood children*

*jump ball!*

The kids in the zone we visited don't have much for toys, so the beautiful orange basketball in our car caused quite a ruckus. Always up for a little pick-up game, Patrick had fun letting the children toss and kick and bounce the ball around a field next to the church. He's a favorite with the kids here with his relaxed style, expressive face and easy laugh. And true to form, by the end of the day, mothers were bringing their babies for him to play and hold.

*Patrick loving on the kids*

Now I'm settling into a lazy Sunday (birthday) afternoon. Patrick is off running errands. Sol is sleeping soundly--an early afternoon nap after entertaining the entire church sans lunch or milk all morning long. He was exhausted, hungry and grumpy when we got home, but after water and food he sleeps soundly giving mommy some down time to. Thanks baby boy.

I wasn't sure what to anticipate on my first birthday in Haiti. Wanted to treat it like any other day, fearing that homesickness might sink its teeth into my celebration. However, I was pleasantly surprised how "at home" I felt today in a church of sticks and cloth panels, in a congregation of folks with worn shoes and warm faces.

My brother, sister-in-law and nephews Skyped this morning and sang me happy birthday over a plate of candle-adorned cupcakes they had made for my special day (if only skype could share tastes too, it would be a near-perfect world!). After leaving church, my voicemail was filled with "happy birthday" songs sung by family and friends. Thanks to modern communication, the world shrinks a little when you need it, bringing loved voices to your ear, precious faces to see and talk to. Tonight Patrick is making a special dinner, Solomon will provide our nightly entertainment, and I will sink into that special feeling of being happy exactly where I am.