The atmosphere in Port au Prince was tense. Demonstrations, unrest, and anger were visible everywhere on the streets. The ride in our van to visit the Orphanage, Missionaries of the Poor, run by missionaries, was long and hot. We parked under a tree on shady, dry grass and dirt. Entering the main pavilion of the building, several residents cried out excitedly as they came toward us in wheelchairs, on crutches, and limping. Melanie, dressed in a bright orange dress, crawled toward us. All recognized Lindsy, David, and Lynn with joy and anticipation — a joyous reunion for this small group of friends. 


Later, we walked to another building, entering a spacious, clean room filled with cribs. Little brown arms reaching out to be embraced, kissed, spoken to, sung to, and loved. Beautiful children born in a country too poor to provide medical care for a disease or defect that would outlast the little person in that crib. Living daily in a clean bed, fed and clothed by loving hands caring for them. As I looked into dark brown eyes, I recognized a brave spirit that was brave and accepting of the tenderness and love I could offer for a moment, changing my heart for eternity. Nancy Chatterton, September 2019

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