A Heart for Haiti
January 12. A Tuesday. Just before 5 p.m. Something evil happened. A 7.0 earthquake ripped apart the poorest country in the western hemisphere. Like poverty, repression and hopelessness wasn't enough to live under, the survivors in Haiti are crushed by loss and covered in the broken remains of their lives.
For four days, I've avoided TV and reading about Haiti. But I just couldn't avoid it anymore. I Googled "Haitian Earthquake Images," and viewed photographs and videos of twisted, collapsed buildings, bodies decaying, Haitian children covered in mud, their hands outstretched to be noticed, to be helped.
Worlds Apart, my novel about a boy who spends the summer of 1966 in Haiti with his missionary father and two younger brothers, seems horribly insignificant.
It may seem insignificant now, but it is ironic. Heartbreaking really.
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