2 small updates
- According to Lori: Dalonne is doing better at connecting to and loving on Job and Job is up to 8 pounds and they will likely be discharged from RHFH on Friday.
- Geronne's Dad is with us for the week. He is so quiet that we keep forgetting he is here until we see his tiny little crumpled body curled up sleeping on one of the couches. I worry one of us will not notice and sit down and crush the poor man. The hospital would not see him Monday. They said they had 2,000 people to see so could he come back next Monday. Geronne just sort of shrugged as if to say "This is Haiti." We all like having him here. Lydia walks up to him and stares at him while he sleeps. That is sort of creepy.
My oldest friend that I met in the fifth grade at Park Brook Elementary wrote me at 1am the other night. She said, "Hey What is going on down there, I am a little worried about you guys." I read the message in bed on my phone and wondered how she could possibly know there was elevated stress. In the most loving way you can think this, I thought, "What a freak!"
I never said anything was wrong. She just knows me. She can tell when my tone changes even when she cannot actually hear my tone because it is all only in writing. She is tuned in. Freaky sixth sensed friends are a gift.
I am certain that things will eventually simm-ah down. For whatever reason the hits are coming frequently of late. I am not trying to be mysterious in any way I just don't know what to think yet. Some things have happened lately at Harbor House that feel like failure. Once I am able to make at least a little sense of it I will share more of the details. If I never make sense of it, you'll know by my ongoing silence. :) I'm waiting on God to lift me out of this discouraged muck before I spew that stuff on the inter-web.
A different friend sent this today.
I love the last paragraph.
Wishing to encourage her young son's progress on the piano, a mother took her boy to a Paderewski concert. After they were seated, the mother spotted a friend in the audience and walked down the aisle to greet her. Seizing the opportunity to explore the wonders of the concert hall, the little boy rose and eventually explored his way through a door marked "NO ADMITTANCE.
When the houselights dimmed and the concert was about to begin, the mother returned to her seat and discovered that the child was missing. Suddenly, the curtains parted and spotlights focused on the impressive Steinway on stage. In horror, the mother saw her little boy sitting at the keyboard, innocently picking out "Twinkle, Twinkle Little Star." At that moment, the great piano master made his entrance, quickly moved to the piano, and whispered in the boy's ear, "Don't quit. Keep playing."
Then leaning over, Paderewski reached down with his left hand and began filling in a bass part. Soon his right arm reached around to the other side of the child and he added a running obligatio. Together, the old master and the young novice transformed a frightening situation into a wonderfully creative experience. And the audience was mesmerized.
Whatever our situation in life and history--however outrageous, however desperate, whatever dry spell of the spirit, whatever dark night of the soul-- God is whispering deep within our beings, "Don't quit. Keep playing. You are not alone, Together we will transform the broken patterns into a masterwork of my creative art. Together, we will mesmerize the world with our song of peace.
© E. Elliot 1997