First observation:

God is God, regardless of where I am and what I am doing.

Isn't that just exhilerating to know?!

Second observation:

I am not a good swimmer. Out of shape entirely; although I'm not sure I was ever in it. Swimming out to that little "rope with floaties on it" today was quite the workout! And the experience of being out in the ocean alone... in deeper water... was interesting. Still, I love the ocean. Especially this corner of it. (Do oceans have corners?)

My life right now is very interesting. It involves changing diapers, making bottles, rocking restless babies to sleep when they wake up at night, taking them on little walks, playing with them, laughing at their antics and expressions, taking them swimming... motherly things, I guess. Don't get too jealous, girls. I know, it sounds like a dream. I have it good.

And yet, it has been so evident to me this week, again, that it is not the place or the circumstances or my opinion or emotional status that makes life good; it is Him. Jesus. The Author of life and beauty and music and laughter and truth...

There are challenges to life here, too. Things like getting up in the night, having an adorable little bumkin share some of their lunch by spitting it up on your clothes, and having to do treatments and house-purging to get rid of scabies. Being so far away from everything I know and love is an interesting experience, too; though of course I am well taken care of and have excellent company in Gerda and Annie and the babies. But in all of this, Jesus keeps drawing me back to what has seemed to become a major theme in my life:

It's all about Him.

Really, truly, seriously. He is the one who gives life, and the one who sustains it. He is my joy and the lifter of my head. He is my song, my food, my drink, my friend, my Father. When I get tangled up and turned around, it's because I have taken my eyes off of that fact. But if I keep my eyes on Him, abide in Him and He in me, then I cannot be shaken. By anything.

1 Peter 2:6 says it well: "...he who believes in Him will not be disappointed."

Thursday - Arrival in Port au Prince, Haiti

They're talking about me. I think. Every once in a while I catch a word, a glance; but since I can't understand most of it, I just mind my own business. All the 'busboys' sitting on the concrete wall on either side of me can just carry on their own conversation, I guess. Occasional honks or squeaky tires from the street on the other side of the chain link fence make up the background music.

As soon as we started coming in for a landing this morning, my heart began to open wide to this big, beautiful, hurting land. At first, I saw only the sea out my airplane window. I followed it out as the plane tipped and I saw no division line where the sea turned into sky. But before long, faint mountains emerged, and on the other side of the plane, I could see the city. The closer we got, the more clearly I saw the trees and houses and little shacks, the more I knew...

Haiti. I would come to love this land.

"Welcome," I whispered, "to my heart."

So here I am. I got to meet Heather, and her Stateside director, Michelle. I met some precious babies at a hospital. I went to an amazing hotel for lunch. I bumped through the crowded streets of Port au Prince in a rickety little van with Annie, Heather, Michelle, and a few others. I hauled my stuff into the sweet little apartment that I will share with Gerda and Annie and the babies for this next chapter, and heard the ocean from the balcony. I met the sleepy little ones, and then went with Annie to see the crèche (where the kids live) and meet several adorable babies. Among them was Mercy. Mercy is a precious creation of God, but she doesn’t have much time left. No one would be surprised if she got to see Jesus today.

How do you deal with things like that?

I’ve heard about it all my life, but being here is different. Holding a tiny little fist in your hand and whispering pleasant things to a dying baby is something you read about… right? Oh, Jesus...

It's been a full day; I think I fit about as much into a 24-hour period as you possibly could. Even after we visited the crèche around midnight, the craziness was not over. Our car broke down. We had to rent a ‘tap-tap’ and ride home in the back with stuff piled all around and on top! Quite an adventure.

I think again of little Danilo in Mexico, and I smile. I feel like a little Danilo, holding tightly to a strong hand as I walk into this unknown. I might hide behind my Father’s leg a little, glad that at least Someone knows where we are going and what we’ll do when we’re there. I look up to Him eagerly, openly. What should I do with what I’ve seen, Daddy? How should I react? What do You want me to do? And I’m so full of joy, so at peace, because I know He will never, NEVER let me down. He can’t—He is good, He is a Rock, and He never changes, never lies.

I’ll bank my life on that.