Ward church service

This morning I woke up with one thing on my agenda: church service on the ward. I've been so tired from the time change and overwhelming feeling of change that I didn't know what to expect or what would be expected of me. We made our way to the ward just down the hall and on the same deck that I stay where there were maybe 10 patients and more volunteers. The drums and clapping started along with the singing to This Is the Day the Lord Has Made except I didn't realize it for a minute because it was in Fon as far as I could tell.

There was a particular patient that brought me pretty close to tears. She was singing so joyfully. I met her in the hall the night before when she was walking up and down the hall. We may not have walked down the hall towards her direction, which was the opposite ways of the rooms, if it hadn't been for her son who was running down the hall screaming at the top of his lungs while throwing his arms in the air. He ran straight to me. He couldn't understand what we were saying and his mom was just smiling and laughing. We walked along with her and would chase him down the hall to retrieve him. I ran back with him stopping only to swing his legs between mine. I was able to use the extra bit of French I learned on the plane from my seat mate when he was discussing the Jamaican runner in the newspaper he was reading: tres rapide. I said this to the mom and she just smiled and laughed.

At church I was watching her rejoice while the nurse next to me held her son as he clapped to the music. He soon fell asleep even with all the commotion going on. It was a beautiful experience.