The Third Time

I'm trying to tell my story of why I want to adopt. It's a long rambling story that goes back, oh, almost 15 years ago. Here is another piece of my heart.
_________________________________________________________

There we were, singing Christmas songs in Creole. Whenever I sing "Silent Night" I still think "ach chante..."

I was in Haiti with a choir for one week, singing in the heat. Did I mention it was hot? And dusty? And filled with super cute kids?

After one especially bumpy bus ride we arrived at what we called the Fishing Village. Maybe that was it's real name, I don't know. Our first sight was of naked kids running. By the time our bus had stopped most of them had found some clothes. It was the most poverty stricken place we had been to.

Our group found some shade trees and started singing. After awhile someone told us to take a seat and they shared the gospel with the village. I sat in the dirt with the rest of the choir. Soon I found this little girl, maybe 4 or 5. Somehow I convinced her to come sit on my lap. As she leaned on my chest I could hear the noise in her chest. It sounded awful. I'm no doctor, but wheezing like that? Something was wrong.

She hung out with me, or on me, for the rest of our time there. Oh the sweet thing! God jumped-started my mother's heart right then at 19.

Then it was time to say our goodbyes and get on the bus. A lady came up me, obviously connected with the little girl. I tried to give her back to who I assumed was her mom or guardian. But the lady put up her hands and motioned for me to keep her.

I have to admit, the thought of just taking her back to the States with me did skip through my mind. Hello! I had to remind myself that I was 19 and really didn't know what the lady meant. Maybe she was hoping I could take her to the nearest clinic to get her medicine. Who knows.

But what I did know is that little girl was in a desperate situation. If they didn't have money for clothes or food I can't imagine they had a lot of money for doctors. And yet, here she was, obviously sick from who knows what.

So what's a rich teenage girl to do? I didn't know either. I climbed back on my bus with empty arms. I waved goodbye. Soon the little girl was out of my sight.

Oh Jesus. What could I have done? What. do. you. want. from. me?