On my second day in Haiti, we got up early in the morning and started to the hospital that was now being facilitated by Community Coalition for Haiti (CCH). On the way to the hospital, we stopped at the depot where the medical supplies were stored. Upon arriving at the depot, we saw members of a team from the midwest that came to Jacmel to work with CCH and the nuns from the school, sleeping outside in tents. Even though the school buildings were still intact, the nuns were afraid to stay in them at night for fear of another earthquake.

When we arrived at the hospital there were over 200 people lined up for medical care. It was a pitiful sight. There were men and women, young and old, guarding their place in line and loudly speaking and shouting in Creole.

There was another aspect of this crowd that I had missed the day before: they had bewildered and lost looks on their faces. They seemed to be asking, “What’s going to happen to us next?” They seemed to be asking, What's going to happen to us next?"As I walked through the hospital trying to console and minister to the people that spoke some English or the ones I could communicate with given my limited French, I noticed the operating room. Patients were cared for in a very small room that reminded me of an army field hospital. I was told that there was a shortage of anesthesia medicine and that many patients had to be operated on without any drugs for pain. The two doctors that came with us, a general practitioner and orthopedic specialist, and the Haitian doctors were working as fast as they could to attend to the people, but it seemed like the line kept getting longer.

Around noon, the minister from the Richmond, Virginia area that traveled with us and I decided to go visit an orphanage located across the street from the hospital.

A Haitian man met us, and after telling him why we were there, he took us to the building where the children were housed. When the Haitian attendant saw us, the children, about 15 or 20, dressed in tattered clothes were brought out to meet us. On cue, the children began to sing a welcome song for us. I had to draw on my inner strength to keep from crying when I imagined the lost potential of this group of beautiful young people. They were excited by our presence and even became more excited when I gave each of them one of the 100 lollipops I had brought with me. Inside the building, we saw rows of iron cribs with babies standing in them holding on to the rails. Their clothing was like the older children. The iron cribs made it look like they were in jail. They all looked like they wanted someone to pick them up, hold or touch them. I thought to myself: Surely we can do better than this. The other minister offered a word of prayer for all the children and the dedicated Haitian attendants that we met.

It was now about two o’clock and we had not had any food since breakfast. My minister friend and I decided to go to one of the hotels that were still in service for lunch. During lunch, we both reflected on the events of the day. I believe we both had our catharsis time. At that moment, I was convinced that our trip, with all of the uncertainties and inconveniences that we had to endure had not been in vain. Our team brought some sunshine and a ray of hope to a dark and hopeless situation. That night, at our debrief, we all agreed that while there is much work to be done that sometimes can seem overwhelming, our efforts were making a positive impact in the lives of our brothers and sisters in Haiti. (This is the second of a two or three-part series on my trip to Jacmel, Haiti).