Now in Haiti

I went for a walk during the cooling part of the day at dusk. Sources Chad, the small village where I now am, is an oasis fed by hot springs, and is surrounded by a dry desert environment. I ventured out in this desert for the first time, refreshed to feel the breeze cool my skin. To my left I saw a very old cemetery. I find cemeteries to be entrancing—headstones speak of history and entire lives, reminding me that man’s life truly is just a breathe of wind, a vapor. These particular headstones were quite large and at one time ornate. But now they were precariously positioned on steep and eroding ledges. It appeared flooding had eaten away at the cemetery making it now appear like a mini Grand Canyon. It occurred to me that with such deep trenches now in the earth, the bodies once laid to rest must have been swept away.

I was in the midst of receiving a hug when I saw what seemed to be part of a skull in a nearby shallow rivet. It was. A jawbone still with teeth lay close by to it. We walked away disturbed, but not as horrified as I imagined I would be if I ever were to see an uncovered dead body.

I don’t think it is morbid. Cemeteries display man’s frailty, which only highlights God’s immortality.