By Karen Bell

Last weekend I heard a representative from Hands Together speak at the Mass I attended. I have been haunted both by what he said and how he said it.  Hands Together is a non-profit which has established schools, orphanages, nutrition and feeding programs, medical clinics, and sustainable-development projects in Haiti for almost 40 years. Haiti, as you know, is the poorest country in the Western hemisphere and currently has no working government. The country is in the grip of disparate criminal gangs who control nearly every aspect of daily life.  

The gentleman who spoke at my parish has been involved with Hands Together and has been caring for impoverished Haitians for decades. Reminiscent of Job, he wore his weariness like an ill-fitting, heavy cloak. The toll that the work has taken on this husband and father was obvious. Being in Haiti is dangerous business. He has been kidnapped. He has had a gun held to his head. He has been threatened with knives by drugged out gang members. These types of episodes have almost become routine. Someone asked him after he spoke at another parish, “Why do you keep doing this?  Why don’t you do something you enjoy?”  He has often asked himself that question.  Then he followed up with this story.

He saw a little girl outside her home with a coloring book. The neighborhood was a desolate place of total squalor. She was singing and smiling as she looked at the book. She showed him the picture and said in her native language, “Isn’t it beautiful?” to which he agreed. She then asked, “Do you know what it is?” He replied, “Yes, it’s a butterfly.”  Her eyes grew wide as she asked, “Are they real?”  He said, “Oh, yes, they are real!”  The girl suddenly grew sad, closed the book and started to go inside.  She turned to him and said, “I will never see one.”  

After sharing this story, he commented to us in the congregation that we all have a mission. His mission is to do what he can so that children like that little girl don’t have to live without hope of ever seeing something beautiful in life. God gives each of us a mission, he said. It isn’t always easy and we might not particularly enjoy it but it is our mission.

I thought about the sacrifices he and his family have made, the challenges he has faced and the unknown dangers ahead for him. I thought about how God has sustained him all these years to do this necessary work. For me, I think this would be mission impossible. Then I recall the line from Scripture – with God, all things are possible. 

And I wonder, what then is my mission?