A Peronal Word from Haiti

Dear All,

It’s been two and a half months since our world changed. Since then, Rodney has made three trips back from Haiti, Nancy has just left my side for the very first time, dozens of visitors, hundreds of calls, and thousands of notes have inspired my soul and hastened my healing.

Yesterday afternoon I saw pictures of the rubble that was our apartment. Last night was a horrible night. The night before, we saw a re-enactment of the Last Supper. I cried -- not just for me and Haiti. The day before that was a breakthrough – I finally remembered how to get to the therapist’s without getting lost. Wow!! -- -- the flood of emotions that are triggered by the big events are reflections of countless ones that make up the moments of every day -- -- and night.
I am convinced there is no way to even try to thank each and every one of you personally. The emotional roller coaster would just be too great. I watched my husband cry as he put on a pair of shoes given to him by an old friend – and understood the depth of sorrow and meaning. I’ve seen Nancy strengthen by phone calls from new friends giving counsel on medicines, or doctors, or the horrible quagmire called insurance. How can one begin to say thanks for a line in an email that brings back hundreds of memories of good times or shared pains. The offers of help, a flower, a card, a chocolate Easter bunny, a visitor from a hundred or a thousand miles away or a borrowed car or home; how can I begin to say thanks.
Behind all the tangibles are the prayers which have gotten me to here – wherever ‘here’ is at this moment. Thank you each for the memories, and prayers you have so unselfishly shared.

Rodney is here in Florida with me for two weeks. Nancy will return when he leaves for Haiti. Friday I visit the spine doctor again and hope the back brace removal begins. Frustrations with not remembering, not being able to type or figure out the computer, blurry vision, or just the impossibility of doing everything expected is slowly turning to successful conquests., for the most part. Walking is a joy – small steps, not many, exhausting, and bracketed by a walker but still a joy.
Rather than looking toward a very confusing “ahead”, I find great comfort looking back each week to see how far I’ve come.

Sharyn