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    updated 8.29.11

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Which Of Us Is Not Like The Other

I wasn’t awakened by my Blackberry’s chime this morning, but rather by the gentle cry of my six month old.  Five AM found me standing in our master bathroom holding Piper as the vent fan droned overhead.  For reasons we cannot explain, the sound relaxes her when nothing else will.  If iTunes offered a sixty minute mp3 of a bathroom fan, I’d buy it in a heartbeat.

There I was, hostage in my own bathroom.  My feet were a little cold because of the tile floor and my arms were growing tired because Little Bug is not the featherlight that she was when she was born. I really could have used some more sleep – it had been a late night and I have a lot to do today.

It was in amidst this predawn whine that reality came for a visit, when I remembered that 2200 miles to the southeast, another father was was standing in the dark, consoling his six month old.  He loved his child too.  He was arguably far more exhausted than I was.  He had no bathroom fan to help him because the house had no bathroom, and what was left of the house was now just a knee high pile of rubble.

I could look for help in a while.  Kelsey could be called on, of course.  If we needed to get ready for our day, my mom lives in a studio apartment that is a part of our house and is more than happy to play with Piper.

The other man has looked for help, but so far, he’s found none.  He’s a little perplexed at how dozens of tv crews have managed to find their way to Haiti, but so few workers.   The modern world can beam this father’s photo to a satellite thousands of miles overhead and back down to a guy having a bagel in Kansas City, but the technology to move a piece of concrete off the dead body of his wife seems to be unavailable.

My day will be busy.  Emails, meetings, writing and prayer.

He will spend his day trying to do what I will do in the next five minutes – accessing fresh water and something to eat…except he has no guarantees of success.

Minus abject poverty and an earthquake, are we really this different?

We both love our children.

We both want to live peaceable lives.

How two people with so much in common can have such different existences is simply beyond my comprehension.  I don’t know exactly how it got this way – and those of you seeking to teach a quick history lesson in the comment section can save it for another day.

All I know is on a different day, it could be me standing in the rubble, it could be Piper crying in the dark, both of us wondering when help would come.

Go to www.criout.org now to help send a team of emergency responders to Haiti. The exploratory team of six leaves today, followed by a rotation of people who have been trained to do search and rescue.   The leadership of this organization are personal friends of ours and we know many of the first responders.  This is money well invested.

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7 Responses

  1. I had many of the same thoughts while calming our sweet 4 month old at 4AM. I really wanted to be irritated with her not yet getting the “sleep through the night” thing down. I was vividly reminded what a blessing it was to be cuddling her in my own warm, quiet, bedroom.

  2. not so different, it’s just location. Amen, Randy.

  3. eye opening. thanks for this.

  4. Very true.! That’s definitely something to stop and remember when you’re becoming desensitized to disasters happening around the world. How on earth do we grow so numb to tragedy? All until it hits our own backyard.

    Ps. a little tip in regards to Pipers love for the bathroom fan. My children loved the bathroom fan or the vent from the stove and what I did was bought a box fan and put it in their rooms. Works like a charm!! You can hear the baby through the monitor just fine and it drowns out the noises from a louder home, they don’t wake up over the drop of a pin. Obviously, pointing the fan against the wall or just away from them directly. its a little miracle worker itself and has become one of my first recommendations for a good sleeping baby!

  5. Randy,

    Thank you for this, we have a 6 year old son from Haiti and I look into his eyes and see strength I never knew humans to have, Haitian people are so stong, so brave, I dont think I could go thru what they go thru even on a daily basis before the earthqake let alone now. Thanks again. Kristy

  6. My 16 year old son is in Bolosse and I cannot get him out because his adoption file is now somewhere in the rubble. But, we can help by sending as much help as we can. May I please use your blog to read to our church this Sunday morning?

  7. I feel the Father’s heart in these thoughts. Thank you for your humble honesty, and thought-provoking real perspective. Glory to God! Have mercy on us all.

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