I can still hear the worship flowing down the mountainside as we made the journey up to the highest point in Cabaret. Vision Church representing the city on a hill that could not be hidden. The vibrancy of the worship rings in my head as if I’m still there. A joyful expression of love and gratitude to God who gave us His only begotten son to live and die on the cross so we could be free from sin. I asked Pastor Rosinel what the lyrics (sung in Creole) meant. So beautiful and so simple: “to God all the glory”.
As I took my seat my eyes were drawn to look around at the congregation. Men, women, and children that were proud sons and daughters of a glorious King. Their God the same as my God.
In the front row sat a woman about my age. She was dressed in a long brown dress with a white jacket to covered her shoulders. On her lap, laid a sleeping baby girl. I recognized this woman’s face. Staring, I studied her, in disbelief. Her arms wrapped around her sleeping child, her index finger holding her place in the Word. I knew her gaze well; I often wear the same one. It was the gaze of an exhausted momma. The gaze of a momma just trying her best and still feeling like she was failing. The gaze of a momma that was a hard worker and an even harder lover. The gaze of a momma that gives so much to others that she has little to nothing left to give to herself. She was me. I was staring at my soul sister; the face that shared my mother’s heart.
After service, Andrew and I met a Haitian man that spoke English well. Children were playing at his feet. I think Andrew saw himself in this man; an active father who told us he and his wife had five kids together. It was then that he waved to someone across the church. The next thing I knew that same woman who had stolen my gaze during service came walking over to us. It was the man’s wife. I embraced her and felt a warmth roll from her body to my own. I got her and she got me. Truly it was a God thing.
When we said goodbye I walked away feeling lifted. Our circumstances may be different but our motherhood journey the common ground between us.
HEATHFAMILYEXPERIENCE 