9-9-13. I sit on my front porch spending some precious time with my Jesus, preparing for the day ahead. Thanking him for safety and for loving me the way I am. Asking for a message for the prisoners today and experiencing His peace. I sit with a soft pillow behind my head, with my IPad plugged into electricity, with a cool welcoming breeze blowing across my body, before the heat and humidity of the day begins. I sit.
It is still dark and and the sun is just starting to brighten the sky into a beautiful medium blue hue. The trees making a dark silhouette against the sky, as if praising The Lord for creating them, reaching their branches in worship.
I sit and reflect and listen. It is quiet for Haiti. Too early for the shouts of children playing soccer on the road in front of my house. Too early for a heated game of marbles, played in the dirt. Too early for my neighbor to blare his radio so loudly that I can't have a thought of my own. I sit.
They do not. They are the women heading for the market. I hear them before I can see them. I hear their footsteps, walking quickly and with a purpose. I hear their shoes struggling to stay on their feet as they walk through the mud and the puddles left by the previous nights downpour. (A downpour that filled my home with 3" of water as it came pouring in through my electricity box.). I hear a few talking, but most walk quietly, determined. I hear a song, someone is singing her praises to The Lord. I hear clip, clop, clip, clop as the donkeys and mules and sometimes horses parade by carrying the wares to be sold. I hear an occasionally swish and thud as the freshly picked branch connects with the 4 legged cargo van to reminds the mule who is in charge. Then I hear, click, click, click, click, click as the donkey picks up the pace. I hear the squawks of many chickens, not enjoying their journey to their final destination. And the loudest of all, the squeals of a pig, declaring his objection to his upside down ride to the market, wishing he could have been the little piggy that stayed home.
The day is dawning, and I begin to see outlines of them walking. Tall and straight as they balance baskets, tubs and even their chair on top of their heads. Their eyes dart back and forth but their heads are fixed,allowing the perfectly balanced objects to stay afloat. Some hold hands of their small children, who are required to help mom for the day. Some are pushing wheelbarrows full of freshly picked mangoes, pineapple, potatoes, carrots, and many other vegetables that I can't identify. Their shoulders sagging under the weight of their job. Some walk unobstructed, allowing their mules to do the heavy work, holding only a switch in their hand. All are focued.
A few are carrying phones that are being used as flashlights, but most walk confidently in the dark, a feat that would be miraculous for me to do. A few carry umbrellas that will protect them from the blazing sun during the heat of the day.
I am told some of them have been walking since midnight, bringing their wares from miles away. Only to repeat the journey after a long hot day in the sun.
They are going to the market. To sell the organic grains and vegetables that they have raised. The only source of income most of them have. They will set up shop, laying a tarp down on the dirt road, and placing their finest selections in small piles, arranged in a way that looks appealing to the passerby. And then...they sit. Waiting for someone to buy their wares so they can buy food that can't raise for their family, so they can pay for their children's school, so they can buy clean water to drink. They sit.
And I sit. Enjoying the cool of the morning, thinking about making a cup of coffee, and reminded of how blessed I am. Even the spaghetti that has become my new breakfast food, is sounding wonderful. Time to go and cook food that I purchased from these women.
Thank you Lord, for the reminder of how blessed I am. And bless these women today. Amen!
