January 14, 2010

Many years ago, perhaps 20, I attended a pastor’s conference on the campus of Eastern Mennonite University in Harrisonburg, Virginia. I found out over lunch that I was not the only representative from west of the Mississippi. His name was Paul and he was the pastor of a small church in Corvallis, Oregon. We hit it off and stayed in touch once we got back to Oregon. I remember Paul this morning as I read the news of the devastation in Haiti. At the time I first met him, he had a daughter who was living in Haiti doing volunteer work. I remember him relating how dangerous it was and how he was concerned for her safety but also how proud he was of her servant’s heart.

I cannot imagine this still morning what it must be like on that island that once held the title “Flower of the Caribbean” but I’m sure there are many volunteers like Paul’s daughter who are now caught up in the aftermath of the earthquake and probably some who were injured or killed. Their lives are of no greater value than the impoverished Haitian but they do provide for me a thin thread of connection to the events unfolding.

Memory….woven into the present.