I stood outside the church doors, in that blur of people streaming from Haiti’s version of a mega-church.
How would I find ever find him in this mass of people? He knew I was coming to his country, but what if something happened: What if he didn’t get the message, or he couldn’t afford a ride? What if he was sick?
My shoulders slumped, and the Nikon camera hung from my neck. I clutched an envelope in my hand with the words written on the front: For Claudel. The girls had drawn pictures and given him a lamb lapel pin with the word “Jesus” written on it.
In his letters, Claudel always calls me his mom. But a mother and father do more than pay for schooling and a few meals. A mother holds her child, reminds him that he’s loved and adored. I’ve had the ache of empty arms.
He was barely a man when we signed up to help him finish his schooling. He was living in a tattered shack on a eroded hillside in Haiti. His father had died, and his mother was living in a tent. He needed help, and we signed a check and made a commitment.
In letters, we told him that if we ever visited his country, we would try to see him. As God ordered things, my first-ever trip to Haiti landed me just a few miles from his village.
We’d arranged to meet at church, the day before I would board a plane for home. This day was our last chance to meet.
I scanned the crowd, looking for a face I’d memorized from a two-inch tall photo I keep in my office.
I could not find his face, and my bus waited.
And then, the voice from behind me. “Mom Jennifer,” he said.
and we embraced.
Sharing my “God-Incidence” of Haiti with you today. A God-Incidence is an event that some would choose to call coincidence, but we like to give credit to the Father. Feel free to share your God stories, God-Incidences, and God-Bumps with us in community today. Write your story, add a button to your post, and then drop your link below. Now that I’m home from Haiti, I’m so eager to catch up with all of your stories!