Devastation in Haiti

If I had been asked to imagine the worst thing that could happen to the country of Hait, I don't know if I could have imagined this. A 7.0 earthquake. After escaping our home, we sat on the dirt road out front and looked out over the city of Port au Prince in the distance. Everything was obscurred in a cloud of white dust. Plumes of black smoke could be seen billowing into the sky. I could picture driving through the city and up into the mountains and what the densly populated city with concrete buildings of such poor construction must look like now. Nothing I imagined was even close to the pictures I have been seeing on the international news or the first hand accounts from Haitian friends that were there when it happened. The influx of injured people that streamed into our clinic immediately was overwhelming. I imagine now the adrenaline coursing through me kept me going even with what I was seeing. I saw things and did things I never thought I could handle. I held a flashlight for Grant while he stitched up a woman with a badly broken arm where the bone had torn through her flesh from back to front. I watched as Grant and Dr. Cheryl reset another woman's femur bone that was sticking right out of her leg. Her anguished screams of pain tore at my heart, there were no pain medications to give her but it had to be done so she could be stitched up and infections could be avoided. One of the young men that works as an interpreter for us walked over to me with tears in his eyes. He was holding a limp baby in his arms. "Madame, how do I tell the mother her baby is dead, I have no words". I had tears in my eyes as I put one hand on Sadrac's shoulder and the other on the cold leg of the child and prayed that the words would come to let this young woman know her baby was in the arms of Jesus now. While searching for supplies in one of the clinic rooms, a member of our visiting team walked in with a child in his arms. He had tears in his eyes as he layed her on the table and in an anquished voice told me she had just died and the medical staff needed room for the next patient. We gently wrapped the little girl in a sheet, I layed my hands on her beautiful head and tried to pray. "God I have no words in my heart, only tears". Grant's stories will slowly come out in the coming weeks. He is beyond exhausted, physically and emotionally. He feels as though he has done and seen more in the last 48 hours than he could have done in his entire career as a Paramedic in Ontario. I have heard so many on the team here that have been working with him speak of his great skill, his cool head in the midst of extreme chaos and his heart of compassion for those he is treating and those he is leading. The children are shaken up but OK. There is fear with every tremor we feel and there are many. We slept inside for the first time last night which I hope means a good restful sleep for them. Emotions are running high and tears come easily even though they don't know exactly what made them cry. They want their Dad here with them because he makes them feel safe but they understand there are people that need him to stay alive and that is more important for right now. I am working from the house as the communications hub for our mission. Communicating with our staff on the grounds by radio, our staff in the US by internet as well as our partners in Canada and all the media. It's not a job I would have chosen but my recent health issues have forced me to not be able to do anything more. I know God knew that and knew I would be needed right where I am right now.Please pray. Please donate to help. www.ftccanada.ca (in Canada). www.mohhaiti.org (in the U.S.).We will be in touch, The Rumfords