15 July 2010

K, continued...

Singing with children is one of my favorite things to do, hands down. It’s part ego-massage, I guess…they always think you’re good, and by comparison to them, you usually are. But other than singing with my students, it’s usually reserved for group situations in church and for the shower.

So when K asked me to put some songs on CD for him…I balked a little. “I don’t have a CD,” I told him. “You could get one,” he said. “I don’t know what kind of songs you’d want,” I said. “Church songs,” he replied, “plus the alligator song.” I had taught K and his cousin, who is also our neighbor, a song about an alligator when we’d first arrived, and they thought it was the greatest thing since football. “In English or in Creole?” I asked. “Both,” he replied.

One beef I have with God is that He often asks me to do things that I am certainly capable of doing, but would rather not. This was one of them. I asked my mom to send me some CD blanks, which she faithfully did, and since then, they’ve been sitting on the shelf, silently, blankly, waiting for me. Since we’re leaving on Friday, I finally summoned up the courage today to record a few songs and burn them to a CD for him…it was nothing special, but it was the best I could do. I also put a few books of the Bible in Creole on another CD and threw that in as a bonus.

On the way back from getting water this morning, I hollered at him across the yard to come find me later…he’s been at a kid’s camp that’s being held here at the school all week (and loving it, I might add). You should have seen his face when I gave them to him. I hardly got a whole sentence out, before he was dashing off to get his portable CD player to listen to it. He stopped by again later to say what great music it was and thank you again and to say goodbye. I was relieved, in a way, that he already knew we were leaving, because I’d been dreading telling him. Pignon’s rumor mill is quite effective, and I’d set things in motion the day before, when I told his cousin.

“My stomach hurts, because you’re leaving for Port-au-Prince,” he said. “You’re sad?” I asked, unsure of what he meant at first. “Us too--we’ll miss you,” I told him. In Creole, to miss someone and to remember them is the same concept, which I always find poignant. “God forgives you,” he told me, which I think he meant as a blessing. It’s sort of breaking my heart to leave him…he’s still got a lot of healing to do, and he doesn’t want to go back to Port-au-Prince, which he’s scheduled to do in August.

I did give him our e-mail addresses, so we’ll see if we ever hear from him again. If not, we know who holds him in His hands. Thanks for praying for K.

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