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Haiti 2011: June Eighth

We played soccer again this morning. I did well as goalie-- that is, until I let five goals past me. Oh well. Our day working was more relaxed compared to previous days. We painted the ceiling of one of the girls' rooms. The smell of urine reminded me that these kids don't have near as much as we do. Maybe, though, they have more. This place is rich with relationship and love, which can't be said of many homes in the U.S.

Later, we painted the second floor of the children's dining area (a floor which houses the boys), a few of us climbing a ladder to paint the banister face. Afterward, we bought souvenirs from merchants who come specifically for guests of the Hands and Feet, then went to a local market for snacks and coffee, among other things.

As we get to know some of the kids and people, I'm learning more about Haitian culture. Driving here is like charging into battle, a vehicle passing at near-highway speeds and honking at anyone who might be walking on the side of the street. A teammember noted, though, that there is a cooperation among drivers, pedestrians, and motorcyclists. Perhaps-- like any country-- they enjoy the practice and privilege of unwritten rules. There is, it seems, so much that is unwritten here, so many stories of malnutrition and disease and poverty. Still, this orphanage is an oasis. Amid the crying, fighting, rebelliousness (especially the boys), this place is safe. If much of Haiti remains a tale unwritten, this place stands in stark contrast to that trend. These children are known, fed, cared for, and loved. Mine is only a single pen among countless, but I see the same thing that so many others before me have seen-- as so many after will see--that God will leave a legacy here. Indeed, I'm sure he already has.

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