Something's Bugging Me

Popcorn Tears

Theology in the Trenches

By Kathleen Kjolhaug

It began slowly.  As if simmering on a back burner, the little crackling voices were soon one.  It was early evening when the babies within their cribs were beginning to nod off.  It had been another day in Haiti, and the heat was exhausting.  Little minds within the orphanage needed rest, but it did not come easy.  The thirty-eight children in various stages of life were vying for attention, food, and clothing provided by the half dozen workers within the compound. 

Once tucked in, they rested but not without interruption from those upon the floor near the wooden frames.  First, however, plates needed to be filled with the daily dose of corn mush before going down for the evening.  Side by side the taut blue cots awaited little bodies ready to crash once tummies were satisfied.  One by one they landed atop and settled in for the evening…sort of.

Next up were the oldest children.  Most notable was the fact that the room with the cribs also held the T.V.  And, as the generator kicked in just about the time the littlest heads were dozing, the temptation to simply meet their own needs was just too much.  With lights flashing and energy levels increasing as light pushed away darkness, the nightly celebration began.  With eyes fixed upon the newest video, it was the highlight of their day.  Being able to identify with like minds upon the screen bringing forth dancing and dreaming of anyplace but where their present reality was, was sheer delight to watch.

Soon, even the generator gave way to one final kick, and once the lights were out, these teens were quickly shuffled to their room.  Settling in was easier for the older ones because they were, after all, capable of taking care of themselves.  They’d had many years of practice.  Lights out, even when there were no lights, meant the end of another day in Haiti.

And, just when all of the children appeared to find rest, it began.  Slowly, but surely when all was quiet, the first of the cries were heard.  Little heads that had been solidly sleeping yearned for comfort, for reassurance.  When comfort was nowhere to be found, another voice would join in as if reaffirming that the cries had indeed been heard.  Soon, the little ones upon the taut blue cots began to stir.  A worker would rouse and lift a hand or voice to reassure them that they were not alone, but her arms were not big enough to wrap all thirty-eight within.  The voice must carry the weight here and it did.  More tears joining the ones already at work were like popcorn coming to life.  Little by little they joined forces, and trust me on this, there was no silent night.  

Each night the cries would begin, and as the round of tears yearning for comfort were not stilled, they continued on into the night until the weary just wore themselves out.  Tears beget more tears until the wells went dry, and there was nothing left.  Once worn out, they quieted and somehow found comfort enough to doze…until the next round of popcorn tears would begin anew.

Revelation 21:4 puts it so beautifully.  “He will wipe every tear from their eyes; and there shall be no more death, neither sorrow, nor crying, neither shall there be any more pain.”  Amen.