“The living must share space with the dead. Tears and anguish are plentiful, shelter and aid are not. Three days into Haiti’s tragedy, help is coming but many still have nothing.” –www.cnn.com

It’s hard not to cry when I read headlines such as the one above.  As a native of Haiti, my heart bleeds for my people and for my native land.  I feel the tears and the anguish and can understand only too well the scarcity of shelter and aid my native countrymen are facing.  My people are hard-working, loving people, but wealth, luxury and privilege has eluded most of them for most – if not all – of their lives.

I have not been able to turn off the news.  My mind can’t seem to grasp the enormity of the destruction.  I still cannot comprehend Haiti’s famous Palais National lying in ruins, crumbled to the ground as though it was deliberately imploded.  The Palais National is the official residence of Haiti’s president. The Palais (pronounced Peh-lay) – as it is called – is to Haiti what the White House is to America. It is the quintessential representation of power, strength and authority in my native country.  It is also one of the greatest representations of honor and freedom from slavery for descendants of Haitian slaves, who won their freedom from the French in the early 1800’s.   My heart breaks when I see pictures of the crumpled building bowing to the force of nature. I pray my Haitian brethren view the crumpled mess not as a sign of defeat, but as an opportunity to strengthen the country and its people by rebuilding the Palais. Such an effort would hopefully revive the country’s memory of its ability to overcome and conquer seemingly insurmountable odds. The people may need such a reminder of who they are.

As I recount the memories of my childhood: playing soccer in the streets, the warmth of our neighborhood encircling each child as families cared for and looked out for each other, and the sense of hope that with hard work we would one day escape poverty’s cumbersome grip, my heart grows heavy knowing the devastation my beloved neighbors, community…country has suffered.  How does one express the depth of grief and sadness that my people have to now endure?   Will they be strong enough to carry the burden of pain and hardship that our beloved Haiti now faces?  Will they have the faith to look for and see a ray of hope in this tragedy that appears so inexplicable, so inconceivable? I pray, respectively, that they will and that they do.  I also pray that the world will continue to do what it is doing:  letting my beloved people of my native land know that they are not alone in their darkness. I have committed to doing my part in sending such a message to my Haitian brothers and sisters.

My effort is a simple shoebox ministry called, “Shoebox 4 Haiti”.  It’s an expression of love that I pray will strengthen the faith of each Haitian it touches by providing them with simple daily essentials.  These items are so small they can fit into a shoebox.  But they are so important in restoring and maintaining a person’s sense of dignity and decency.  The ministry asks people to fill a shoebox with items such as deodorant, a can of soup, a package or two of crackers, some peppermint, band-aids, a toothbrush and a small tube of toothpaste.  We will also welcome shoeboxes filled with items for children.  Shoebox4Haiti is a simple way of sending the message that other people in the world understand and care enough about the people of Haiti that even the smallest needs of the survivors of the earthquake will not go unmet.

I know the people of Haiti well.  I love them dearly. They are in my soul. In this moment of devastation, they must remember who they are: a beautifully strong people who love and cherish the life of freedom fought for and won by their forefathers and foremothers. I hope you will join me in my effort to encourage, strengthen and support these beautiful people in need of a little reminder of their strength and their beauty.