The Walls Came Tumbling Down

Time spent here in Haiti looks different for each person, as soon as their toes hit the gravel. As for me, the Miriam Center Director, my days usually consist of paperwork, organizations, dreams and, of course, smiles from the little ones who experience a world of opportunities outside of their disabilities on a daily basis. Now that list pretty much kidnaps my time for the most part; however, for the last couple days a new player has come to town, and it has taken priority: it is simply me staring at walls and dreaming. No, they are not metaphorical walls but are actually 8-inch thick concrete walls.

I have been dreaming big about the new space the birthing center move gave to the Miriam Center and all the walls that can come tumbling down to make space for playrooms, a dining room, bedrooms and the joy that will fill it. So, as I stared for the last couple days, I calculated that it would be months ahead before I would actually smell the concrete dust and feel the vibration of the sledge hammer. As I stared, I dreamed big and waited.

This morning came, and with it I really thought the excitement in my life would be limited to the fact that I got to add an armadillo to the puppets coming in next months. I was very wrong, and I realized it when I felt the first vibration come from downstairs and saw the cloud of dust that followed. Who knew that rain days before would limit a trip for the team here and open the door to the ability to pick up a sledge hammer and just go to town on my walls? As the walls came tumbling down over the hours, a new hope grew, not just in my heart, but in the team, the workers and in the kids. In my kids, there grew an acknowledgment, as they watched sweat pour down the faces, the dust fly and doors appear that they were loved, loved in such a way that in a culture that hid these kids behind walls we worked on bringing those walls down, in gigantic concrete pieces.

During this time, I was in and out in giddy joy as they moved from room to room creating hallways, doorways and dust. I stepped over enthralled children playing with assortment of educational toys, and there sat Den Den in utter stillness, and it made me wonder. I wondered why this beautiful little boy with Spastic Cerebral Palsy was holding a small toy hammer, staring at the team members going after the walls. At first, I thought he had misplaced the rest of the toy that went to the hammer, but as I gathered the pieces for him to play with, I realized there was a greater meaning to this stillness: he was helping. In his mind, even as his crippled hands could barely grasped the hammer and his twisted frame was never in control, he too was knocking down those walls. The look on his face was the look of one freed from a disability, one that found JOY through others, and just for one moment he, too, was free from those walls in his life. So, today as those walls came tumbling down, what was built in their place was hope, joy and self confidence, especially for a little boy holding a hammer.