Charity’s eating peanut butter
Peanut butter on her bed.
Charity loves laughing
Laughing from her head.
She’s asking all these questions
For example ‘for real?’
But I can’t think of the answers
Because I’m thinking of our next meal.
Now back to the peanut butter
For her it tastes like home
A little bit of comfort
When she needs to be alone.
Peanut butter is brown and creamy,
Like Charity’s suntanned skin,
Haiti has some bright sunlight,
Like the Light that shines within.
Charity’s thinking of South Africa
And all the people she will meet.
But now she’s still in Haiti
Is the peanut butter spicy or sweet?
-my talented teammates I love so much!
(I’ll show you a picture of us being crazy sometime later when my wifi is a bit better.)
Have you ever hidden on your bed with a spoonful of peanut butter? I have. A few times this month, actually. It’s my little bit of luxury and maybe my way of finding a bit of peace and alone time in a place that’s full of people and all their noises.
I usually have a bit of background noise as I ‘hide’ on my bed:
– there might be people walking past the window that my top bunk is right in front of
– two of my teammates serenading each other
– more often than not the cooks are making cooking noises in the kitchen right around the corner from my window
– there’s also the conversations between the cooks and Emmanuel, the gardener, as he tends to the rabbits or picks up leaves from the storm the night before
– laughter can be heard from the dining area on the porch where some people gather while we wait for Shamma, our interpreter and driver
– the squeals of a few children from outside the compound wall
– snippets of conversation drift over the partition that separates our room from another team’s room
– the soft sigh/snore from some of my teammates who are taking a bit of a snooze before heading out for the day
– the slam and locking of one of the bathroom doors – we have two, one inside and one outside
– then there is the very rare occurrence of a flushing toilet (the motto here: if it’s yellow, let it mellow; if it’s brown, flush it down)
– the rumble of Shamma’s moto as he arrives to drive us to our ministry for the day
– the happy coos and squeals of Baby Misha who we all love to pieces
These are only a few of the noises that have become normal and peaceful in the last weeks. Granted, some of these are harder to get used to than others and they also might be the reason I’m running to my bed and hiding.
Why do I hide on my bed? Well, the fish house and compound we stay in doesn’t have a whole lot of places to hide. Sometimes we are eating a meal and I just want to breathe for a bit, so I run to my bed. Where can I process all that happens in a day of ministry? On my bed. I eat snacks on my bed (like a piece of bread and yes, peanut butter). Quiet times, journaling, writing blogs; all these can be done from my hiding spot. Some people may not want to withstand the heat and no air movement, but sometimes you do crazy things just for a bit of space. You know?
But as I sit here and enjoy my ‘alone’ time, my ears catch all the beautiful sounds around me and I know I will miss this place of peace!
