My roots...and other stuff

I've been reflecting on how it's been to be removed from my church community the last few days. What things have been evident and how much I've missed being with that group of 150 or so people. Even without having conversations with everyone each week, they are all my family. I need not be anything or say anything, I have a place there. I have people that keep me accountable, just by existing. I need not be asked hard questions but just by their presence I think more about my actions from day to day. I want to be a better person when I'm rooted in a community. I want to serve and love and become a better disciple when I know that I am journeying with them. After 9 weeks of being away, I'm beginning to really see the effects of it. Church here is well, different. Not only is it in a language I can't understand (they talk WAY too fast at church) but it's a different style then I'm used to. We haven't had bible study, I haven't heard a message that I understand, I haven't had a group of people to talk, share, and pray with. I haven't had a close friend to share those inner thoughts and feelings with and pray about and for with. So, even though I'm really not looking forward to leaving here, I am looking forward to being back with my community. With those that know me, love me, and care for me on this journey.

In other news, I was informed today that the patient that was staying with us at the house (Roselande) passed away this week. Her funeral was today (or possibly tomorrow). She didn't want to live, and that was so evident. I guess I'm only half shocked. It's really sad for her family and for those that loved her. For her as well as the future she could have had here. But I can't help but think about if she had kept on fighting. The struggle to continue receiving, paying for, and taking her medication. The effort to test her blood sugar and monitor her diet. Things are just so difficult here, not that it means you should just give up. It's hard here. In Canada, well, I don't even want to think about how things are different for someone exactly like Rose. That's enough to make you sick.

The realities here are different. People will risk their lives on a boat to try to escape to the USA to find some kind of work to support their families back home. A boat sank a couple weeks ago and there was only 1 survivor. He was returned on Tuesday to Haiti and there were crowds waiting for him. No one knew who survived, and once they did they knew who didn't. I was happy when I saw him arrive and being carried and saw the cheering people around him. But afterwards, I noticed those crying. Realizing their loved one's were on that same boat. There's so much I don't realize and understand here, especially initially, but God has been opening my eyes little by little to different things.

I'm scared to come back. Life will return to what it was before...and yet I'm different. How I fit back into those same places will be different. At least I hope so. People have changed and continued living their lives, as have I. So here's to the last 2 weeks. Late nights, early mornings, and lots in between!