Though we were completely alone in the house, she beaconed me close, as if to tell me a secret.
"I am pregnant", she said.
Her eyes locked mine and spoke the words of disappointment and worry her lips did not utter, before she looked away.
"Men Bondye Konnen (But God knows)". She added.
"God knows", spoken out of discipline and prayer, hope and trust.
Often when Haitians speak of something they have no control over, something that is difficult or painful, they will add, "Bondye konnen (God knows)". I have struggled to know how much of this is fatalism and how much is dogged trust in a God so omniscient that to put their trust in him is the final logical solution to any pain or problem, but whichever it is, it is a common Haitian response to difficulty.
The story is old, though the circumstances often different. A women faces an unwanted pregnancy due to hardship of one kind or another, and fears for what having that baby will mean. Milouse was already over 40 years of age, had numerous "female problems" and just months earlier had carried another challenging pregnancy for a number or months, before losing the baby to miscarriage. Afterward, the doctor had told her and her husband that she should not get pregnant again, as her body could not handle pregnancy and it would not be safe for her to have another baby. In fact, Milouse believed she could no longer get pregnant, so she was all the more surprised and dismayed when she found herself, very much so…
Milouse has been an important part of Children of the Promise (COTP) for many years. Though some might find her job unimportant, she does much more than clean houses. She blesses households. She prays for and delights over the inhabitants of the homes she cleans, not to mention works with diligence at mopping floors, clearing cobwebs, and washing dishes. She considers children a gift from God and prays for families to have many of them. She invites her boss to church, prays for her employers, and sometimes lays her needs before them.
The day she told me she was pregnant, she asked me to pray for her. She asked me to remember her needs before God and I could feel the weight of burden she carried for herself and her unborn child.
"Bondye konnen" -- God knows.
Months passed and her pregnancy progressed. Her feet swelled, her hands became sore, but the baby seemed healthy and she neared full term. She seemed bulky and uncomfortable as women often do as the end of pregnancy looms, but she continued on with her work, with her patient way, her gentle smile, and her trust in God. Bondye konnen -- God knows.
And then the day after Christmas, a child was born. A beautiful baby girl like a ray of light with solid black hair, and delicious carmel skin. A baby perfect and plump, and hungry and good… a baby whose coming brought unexpected joy like a gift at Christmas time. It was as if God knew she was needed. It was as if God were telling Milouse that his care for her included this precious blessing even though she did not realize she wanted or needed it. And Milouse was filled with delight.
And I pray for Milouse and Danisha, for her teenage sister Ketley and her father Fritzner, too:
“‘“The Lord bless you
and keep you;
the Lord make his face shine on you
and be gracious to you;
the Lord turn his face toward you
and give you peace.”’
and keep you;
the Lord make his face shine on you
and be gracious to you;
the Lord turn his face toward you
and give you peace.”’
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