August 31, 2012: The day I left Haiti.

It was just barely getting light when my ride arrived. Annie walked with me to the stairs, and Gerda walked the whole way, very South African. We hugged, and I climbed into the back seat of the car and closed the door. There we went. Just like that, up the palm-lined driveway and out into Haiti.

As soon as we passed through the gates of Club Indigo, I saw three Haitian women carrying buckets on their heads. Early in the morning, heading up the hill, skillfully balancing the 5-gallon buckets.

T.I.H., as the saying goes among foreigners here. This is Haiti.

I thought of that as I rode through the little town of Montrois, along the coastline, through towns and past banana plantations and shacks and people and animals and colorfully painted buildings. T.I.H. Driving is a little crazy there; I found myself praying that no one would get in the way of our car as we careened down the road, sometimes passing a slow, overloaded tap-tap even though another car was in sight coming the other direction. T.I.H. We passed a tent city in Port au Prince on our way to the airport. I had never actually seen one before, but I guess the sea of blue plastic is a common scene there. T.I.H. Occasionally, you see empty plastic bottles all over the edges of the road, or a tipped-over dumpster, or burning tires in the middle of the road. Protests. T.I.H.

Now I am home, back in the United States of America. The streets where I live are not lined with trash. We have reliable hot water in the house. The grocery store across the street carries almost every kind of food I could ask for. People observe the traffic laws, for the most part. It is familiar here; I know the language, the customs. The general public appears more busy than hopeless, even though I know many of them are.

T.I.N.H. This is not Haiti.

 

It’s been almost three weeks now that I’ve been home. Leaving Haiti was hard on many levels, but coming home was a delight. I don’t know when I’ve ever found so much delight in being with my family, cooking dinner with my mom and sisters, and settling my things into my cozy little room. It’s been great.

One day as I went about my room, unpacking things I had in boxes and making the place beautiful again, my heart just filled with thanksgiving. And then I thought about those people—those many, many, children and adults and elderly—who have no home and family like I do. And I sat in the corner in my room and cried.

Do I miss Haiti? Parts of it, yes. I miss Annie and Gerda and Lily and Reese and Nessa and Carla and Annika and Hunter and the cleaning ladies and the teal-blue water and the colorful busy streets of Saint Marc and… so many things. Here’s a couple pictures of some of the people I miss (the really good ones were taken by Annie Wesche):

 

 

 

 

You want to know something funny? I get encouraged by my own blog posts. I know, it sounds weird. But the things that God teaches me, sometimes I forget... and then I read what I wrote, and I remember.

Like tonight. Someone commented on an earlier post, and it made me think about it. Then I went and read it, and I was challenged and convicted by what I had written just a few weeks ago! But I guess that makes sense, since it was Jesus who was teaching me, not just my own nice thoughts. J

I really need to go. We are preparing for a graduation of some students in the year-long Ellerslie program tomorrow, and then early Monday morning, a group of us plan to leave at a ridiculous hour to head down toward México! I am super excited about what God has in store for this trip. It’s definitely going to be all Him, not us… (inward laugh) but He’s the only one who can change hearts and save lives, anyway, so that’ll be great. I hope to keep up blogging on the trip. We need any prayer we can get!

So… tonight I just want to declare His goodness, and His faithfulness even when it’s not blatantly obvious in the natural. There are a few things about my future that in the natural cause me a lot of fear and self-protection--just unknowns about what I'll be doing for this next season, etc.--but I choose to hand them over to my good and faithful Father, knowing that He will guide, He will keep me, and He will never leave me.

Why? Because I’m so good that He is obligated? NO!

It is just because that is who He is.

 
 

Learning love...

 

Oh yes, I have love. I find it very easy to love snuggly little brown babies who look up at me with twinkly eyes and give a huge smile. I have friends and family that I love, and I enjoy talking with them and sharing memories and investing in their lives. Even strangers I can love, when I look at them with God’s eyes and see not just a dirty little beggar on the side of the street, for instance, but a precious creation of the Almighty Father who is desperate to find his way home.  

I know what love is.

And yet, God has used this time in Haiti to show me how much I don’t know about love, how much He still needs to teach me and mold me into His image. He’s shown me this in the middle of the night, when I stumble out of bed for that same smiley brown baby, who is now wiggling around and screaming because I didn’t get her bottle ready fast enough, and I find myself frustrated. He’s shown me in the afternoon, when I would rather have some rest during the babies’ naps than spend time with some other little needy one. He’s shown me in my reaction to a friend’s suggestion that we help take care of little Daniel, the little Daniel I love and have longed to help, thinking it would be too much work with the babies we already have. He has shown me how little I know of love when I realize that I care more about being the one to love a little one than about that little one getting the love they need. It’s pathetic.

But it is not just my lack that God has been showing me. I am seeing something more, and it’s beautiful. I’m seeing a love that is not tainted by selfishness and not limited by fear. I’m seeing a joy that comes from complete abandon to the One who Himself is love; complete freedom to let Him move in me and do what He delights in, do what love does in a person, through a person. I do not have the fullness of that love yet, but I want it. I’ve seen glimpses of it, too, here in Haiti. And since the Fullness of Love is my Lord, then I know that His love is accessible to me. Oh, Jesus, let it come!

I was thinking this afternoon about how love and self-protection are so opposite; how whenever I operate in the fleshly pattern of taking care of self first, love is squashed and hindered. And then I remembered 1 John 4, and I drew a sharp breath in excitement. Perfect love casts out fear… (1 John 4:18) I had never before thought of that including the silly “little” fear of discomfort, pain, or loss; but I see it now. Self-protection really is fear; fear that God won’t take care of me well enough, that I have to guard myself against giving too much, trusting too much… whatever it is. And “there is no fear in love.” No; “the one who fears is not made perfect in love.” It all makes sense. I cannot abide in fear and in love—in God—at the same time, because they are opposites.

I have so much to learn, but I'm excited. The more we know Him, the more we know love. Oh, may we never stop or grow weary in this pursuit!

 

"... that Christ may dwell in your hearts through faith; and that you, being rooted and grounded in love, may be able to comprehend with all the saints what is the

breadth and length and height and depth,

and to know the love of Christ which surpasses knowledge,

that you may be filled up to all the fullness of God.

Now to Him who is able to do far more abundantly beyond all that we ask or think, according to the power that works within us, to Him be the glory in the church and in Christ Jesus to all generations forever and ever. Amen.

Ephesians 3:17-21

 

Sweet Gerda and her little friends

It’s been a fairly quiet week here on the shores of the Caribbean. A trip to town for groceries, some blood work for two of the babies, and Annie leaving for a trip home pretty much sums up the “big events”… though of course, each day has its unique aspects, its challenges and joys and simple pleasures. Sometimes we take joy in the smallest little things. Like pancakes in our room after the babies are in bed. Or a cupful of bran flakes, which have been sitting (opened) on the shelf for months, but are still somehow more appetizing than noodles with a fishy-smelling sauce. J Or a video of one of the babies trying to sit up on her own, but eventually toppling over with a big grin on her face. (Sometimes I wonder why we enjoy watching videos of the same children we are with all day and all night… but such is the life of a mother, I suppose. J)

I don’t have a lot to share today. Many things have been on my mind and heart, of course, but nothing that wants to come out in any intelligible matter, I don’t think. Only this: I have been learning from Jesus about the concept of being poor in spirit over the past days, and it has been beautiful. I know I have barely scratched the surface of all there is to learn about this subject, but He has given me a deeper understanding and I am beginning to see how huge it is, how foundational.

That first part of Matthew five that we call “the Beatitudes” is such an amazing passage. It looks so upside-down to this world… but that’s because the world is hanging by its feet as it looks at it. J I believe that the One who created reality has the true perspective on it.

Being poor in spirit doesn’t mean shuffling around in rags with a sour expression. So what does it mean? Why not look at it yourself, and ask the Author to give you understanding on it? If you want to know what I have been learning, try looking up these verses and seeing how they connect: Matt 5:3, Matt. 11:29, John 5:19, and John 15:4.

We serve a big God, people! And a good one. So big and so good, in fact, that knowing Him is life! (John 17:3) Why not throw ourselves upon His grace today, and allow Him to be big and to be good in our lives? 

 (Here's a little extra... )

Kelsey held my hand lightly, awkwardly, as we walked down the concrete stairs and out toward the beach. I swung our hands back and forth, smiling at her. She loosened up a little. Her red-and-white checkered dress looked happier than her eyes.

The beach is pretty packed on Saturday afternoon; I had forgotten that. I made a quick decision to veer right, and we headed down the shoreline, away from the crowd. Since Kelsey’s English is limited and my Creole is even more so, I couldn’t explain to her that I just wanted to hang out with her, enjoy the water, and just have some fun. Who knows what she thought I wanted to do. So I tried to show her. I shook off my sandals and stepped into the water. She did the same.

“Kisa ou fe jodi a?” I asked her. What did you do today, supposedly.

She squinted up at me and repeated the phrase a couple of times in different ways, probably trying to figure out what in the world I was asking. Finally she seemed to understand, and answered, “Travay.” Work.

I nodded. I’m sure she’s right. She lives in a small half-apartment next door with about 8 babies and toddlers and two nannies. “Ou remenm travay?” Silly question, I know. Do you like to work? She said yes. Her older brother lives in a similar apartment a few doors down. They are both incredibly helpful to the nannies. I don’t fully understand why, but for some reason they, and their two siblings, are not adoptable. I think it’s because of HIV.

After a few minutes, I picked up my sandals and smiled at Kelsey, facing down the shore. “Try to catch me,” I said, and started running.

She ran too, beside me, farther up the sand. She ran fast. She laughed, her eyes and her smile as bright as her dress.

We stopped, panting and laughing, at a spot where some sandstone and pieces of coral made the beach more rocky. There we played for the next half-hour or so, building little houses and pools in the sand and rock, playing “marbles” with some choice stones (at least, she played; marbles is not one of my skills), and sifting through handfuls of sea gravel to find interesting shells and pretty little rocks. A couple of people walking by stopped to see what we were doing. I’m sure it looked a little silly, an adult building little houses in the sand. But at least this time I had a child with me, unlike the other day. J And who cares what they thought?

We talked a little as we played, both in English and Creole; sometimes I couldn’t tell which. It was definitely one of those times I wished I had a better grip on the language, but still it was a sweet time, and she didn’t want to leave. I hope we can do it again soon.

What an amazing privilege we have of allowing God’s love—love that He has lavished on us without reserve—to flow through us onto those around us. And how much more amazing that what we do for these little ones, the “least” by the world’s twisted standards, we do for Him! It may not be playing with a little girl on the beach for you, but ask Him, and He will show you someone He wants to love through you today.

Warning-- long post. :)

Kourtney opened the door and stepped into the little hall that leads into our apartment. “We’re going to the crèche in about an hour,” she said.

“Great—thanks for letting us know,” I said. “I would like to go; we’ll see if it works.”

Finally—a chance to go see Hunter again. I had been asking Jesus for that, but… suddenly when I found out I could probably go, I was afraid. I know it sounds silly, even now writing it down, but it’s true. After thinking about Hunter so much in the last day or two and carrying a heavy heart over the fact that he was doing worse and facing the reality that in the natural, he will only get worse… I was afraid of what I might find. I was afraid he would be doing badly, and I would just turn into a mess. But then Jesus kindly showed me that that was just fear and self-protection, and a very sorry excuse for not going. That’s right, I agreed. I am freed to love, and to love freely, even if it hurts. Even if it kills me! So I went.

As soon as I could get there, I walked into the baby room, the yellow room filled with cribs and babies and cute plaques on the walls. My eyes scanned the cribs until I saw one on the far right with a… bigger baby in it. Hunter. I walked over, still with a twinge of apprehension but ready to face it.

There he was, lying on his back in his little orange polo shirt and blue shorts. He looked up at me when I talked to him. He smiled. I was so glad I had come.

For those of you who don't know Hunter, he is 4 years old and diagnosed with hydrocephaly (water on the brain) and stage 4 leukemia. Yet despite the fact that he mostly just lays in a crib all day, he's one of the happiest kids you'll meet. Pure sweetness!

So there he was. Yes, his head did look a little enlarged on one side, but other than that he looked pretty good. Still the same smiley, happy Hunter that I know. I couldn’t pick him up right then, since I had been sent on a little errand, but as soon as I was done I came back and got him, and we had a great time sitting outside. I took a little video, thinking that all of you will want to know him, too. (I know, it's one of those silly videos where the person taking it talks too much, but oh well. At least you get to meet Hunter!)

Self-preservation comes way too easily to me. It’s what you could call survival instinct, what you learn as you live and get hurt and figure out how to get what you want or need in this world, but it is actually contrary to the very basics of Christianity! Jesus doesn’t call us to follow Him our way, or add Him into our preexisting pattern for living. He’s asking for complete abandon of ourselves to Him. “If anyone wishes to come after Me,” says Jesus in Luke 9:23-24, “he must deny himself, and take up his cross daily and follow Me. For whoever wishes to save his life will lose it, but whoever loses his life for My sake, he is the one who will find it.”

He is asking us to completely lay down our own wisdom, our own survival instinct that says we have to hold on to what is ours and protect ourselves from hurt and fight for what benefits us. Matthew chapter 6 is full of this concept. Jesus is showing us a new way, a life abandoned to the source of true life, a life supplied and protected by its Maker. It sounds radical, maybe even crazy, but He is telling us to take no thought for ourselves, for our lives, for what we want or even need. And yet, when you realize who it is who asks this, it makes perfect sense. Besides, as He points out to us, “who of you by being worried (taking thought) can add a single hour to his life?” (Mat. 6:27)

You might not be able to see right now what God is doing with your life. That’s okay. You might not like what you see in front of you, might not feel excited about it or think it is going to fulfill your dreams or make you feel alive or… it doesn’t matter. Please, I ask you this morning, don’t hold back! Don’t wait for something better. Don’t hesitate to give yourself where God is asking you to give. Don’t wish you were here in Haiti, or back at home, or married, or single, or somewhere that God is moving more obviously. If the road ahead of you looks bleak or blurry, relish the fact that you have the chance, today, to sacrifice an offering that will delight the heart of the King of Kings, your Great Intercessor, Jesus.

That’s what He is showing me this morning. To be honest, I have no idea what my future holds. To be honest, what I’m doing here in Haiti is not necessarily “the fulfillment of all my ministry dreams”. It doesn’t fit all the descriptions I’ve drawn up in my mind, or include all the people I love and miss. Yes, He has blessed me more than I could have asked here, given me so many beautiful times and friendships and opportunities and views, but that’s not what keeps me here, not what motivates me. Sure, sometimes the place God puts you is exactly where you love to be. There are moments of extreme joy and delight… but there are also moments quite opposite, and if you were hanging on the emotions to keep you going, you’d come crashing down and probably just go home to what’s comfortable, or run off to something more exciting.

But as you get to know your King, your motivation changes. This morning as I was talking to Him about all this, about the future and where He wants me and all that, I once again laid down all the self-preservation that so quickly creeps into my view of things, laid down my desire to stay and my desire to go, laid down having in my life what I choose. And tears started to run down my face as I realized how much more it means to know His delight than to have anything else in the world.

Think about it, friends—we have the chance to bring joy to the heart of our Father! I’m not talking about earning His love or gaining his affection; that is a free gift that has nothing to do with how good we are, but only with how good He is. But today, right now, we are working either for our own pleasure, the approval of others, or the applause of Heaven itself. Take some time today to gaze into the face of your Father, and let Him show you how ridiculous it is to seek anything else.

“For whoever wishes to save his life will lose it, but whoever loses his life for my sake, he is the one who will save it.” Luke 9:24   

Nothing too grand...

Sometimes we get caught up in our own wisdom, even when going about "serving God." At least, I do. But this week, I read the story of Jesus being anointed with spikenard, and I noticed it in a different way. I realized afresh that God's economy is so different than ours. Whereas we tend to be "practical" (as practical as we can be with our extremely limited view of things), He seems to value the intent and appreciate beauty and extravagance in our love. A huge amount of money spent upon Him is not considered a waste, but the widow's two small coins is worth more to Him than hundreds of dollars from the rich.

In this light, the story of the anointing was very interesting. I heard myself in the onlookers’ complaint: “Why has this perfume been wasted? For this perfume might have been sold for over three hundred denarii, and the money given to the poor.” (14:4,5)

 But Jesus’ response was so different than they expected, than I expect. Yes, He commands us to care for the poor, to give up all we possess. But above that, or rather at its core, He commands us to love extravagantly. He does not see as a waste what we lavish on Him. “…You always have the poor with you,” He said, “and whenever you wish you can do good to them; but you do not always have Me.”

This, to me, tells me that although He does want to use me to meet needs in this world, my driving force is not the need, but love for my Master. I am His servant, not the salvation of the world.

That is freeing to me. He commissions me to love; to love Him, and to love others, and to love Him by loving others and love others through Him. It is not a waste to Him for me to lavish all my love on one little baby, or give all my money for one cause, even if it’s not ‘top priority’ by others’ standards. Not that He won’t lead us in wisdom, but it will be His wisdom, not our own, and it might seem backwards to this world.

Come to think of it, this concept is so clear in all of Jesus’ earthly ministry. He came to save the whole world, but He did not “maximize His time” so as to reach the largest number of people possible while He was here. In fact, He didn’t even hold campaigns or organize the healings. It seems He just went about each day doing the Father’s business. Whatever the Father was up to that day, whether speaking truth to a large crowd, stopping to talk to one desperate woman, taking little children into His arms and blessing them, or talking to His small group of disciples, was what He did. 

So, in view of that...

I'd better be going. Changing diapers might seem a little off-topic when on the subject of annointing the feet of Jesus, but I don't think it is at all. :)

We got to go visit the little girl from the orphanage with the broken leg the other day. She's in the hospital now, being taken care of better; but still pray for her please!

The Orphanage

A couple of days ago, we visited an orphanage in a village just a little down the coastline from here. Heather said she wanted us (and the team who is visiting her right now) to see what a “real orphanage” is like here in Haiti before they see the way it is at the crèche, to give us perspective.

It was… heartbreaking.

The pastor gave us a tour. I think he’s also the director of the orphanage, along with his son. He speaks pretty good English and greeted us all very warmly and cheerfully. But it’s… just hard to put it all together.We walked through a little tin gate into the “courtyard” where the children live. A chinsy blue guitar leaned against a concrete trough full of trash and draped with rags. Trash was everywhere. There must have been pigs next door, because the place reeked.    

It’s hard to describe what it was like in there, but you can probably imagine. You’ve heard it described; it is just like the tragically poor orphanage your mind would conjure up. But… it is real. The dirt on your sandals is real. That junky tent to your left, with piles of wet, dirty clothes thrown about and muddy water leaking into its floor, is real. Worse; it’s where real little boys sleep at night.

I know those rows of girls sitting still on wooden benches might not look it, but they’re real, too. So is the little girl lying inside the bedroom—the one bedroom where all 30-some girls sleep on a few bunk beds—with a broken leg. I knelt down beside her and asked her name. Her smile is gorgeous. I asked in my broken Creole if I could pray for her, and she nodded and gave me another smile. I told her I’d have to pray in English, since I don’t speak much Creole, and she just nodded and smiled again.

So here comes the hardest part to truly believe: the little boys, sitting also in rows on wooden benches but under a different patch of roof… they’re real little boys. They are real little boys that God carefully formed and created in His own image, with a specific plan and purpose, boys who were made to laugh and sing and grow into strong men… and here they sit. Looking into their eyes, you almost wonder if anyone is in there. The hopelessness of their broken spirits is stunning.

That breaks my heart. I know it breaks God’s.

And you know the worst thing about this situation? It’s appalling to see their “bedrooms”, their living space, and the emptiness in their eyes. It’s unbelievable to know that they don’t always have enough to eat, that they’re lucky to eat once a day. It’s horrible to see the big locks on their bedroom doors. But it’s worse to know that, at least for some of these places, it doesn’t have to be.

I cannot judge this particular pastor or his son. I don’t know the full situation. But I did find out yesterday that many, many bad orphanages like this in Haiti are like little personal collections of kids; they will not allow adoption. Why? Because if they keep their poor orphans, then people like us can come and see and be horrified and help out. They can get sponsorship money, and gifts.

Doesn’t that just make you mad?

I am not mad at these orphanage directors. Like I said, I don’t know the full story and I don’t think they live very well either; but this situation has to change.

I ended that day on my face before God, pleading with Him for these little lives. I think many of us who saw this sight did the same. We were touched, sobered, broken… and challenged. Like Heather reminded us, that brokenness should lead us to action. It is possible that bringing this to the attention of the government would result in shutting down the orphanage and moving all the precious kids to Heather’s crèche and hopefully to adoption; that would be wonderful. And for right now, and for most of us, what we can do is fight—spiritually. We can pray.

Will you join me?

We eat well here in Haiti.

For breakfast we often get spaghetti with mayonaise and ketchup, or some kind of chicken soup porridge, or a sandwich. Lunch is nothing to sneeze at; several times a week we eat at the buffet here. And then for dinner, there is a variety of things that could show up. Rice with beans and a sauce with vegetables, rice with beans and a sauce with hot dogs, rice with beans and a sauce with fish, rice with beans and a sauce and chicken, rice with beans and a sauce with pork... you get the picture. So just for amusement, I decided to keep a photo journal of a week of dinners. I got a little messed up by a suprise dinner of spaghetti, and then I forgot to take a picture one night (which is too bad because it would have gone with the flow quite nicely: rice with beans and a sauce with fish), but you can kind of see what our daily fair is like.

And then for dinner seven, I'll admit... we went and ate at a little local restaurant. :) We got both ends of the fish. It was delicious. :)

Here are the amazing girls I get to serve alongside, and some of the precious children we get to love on and cuddle and play with. I am a blessed girl.

The other evening, when we went out to eat at that local restaurant, I stopped to take a picture of this little boy as we walked by. He was accross the road and I had the camera zoomed in, so I didn't think he'd notice; but when I went to take the picture, he looked at me, stopped, and waited until I was done before continuing his walk along the road. Adorable.

It is very sobering to see the "real Haiti" out there in the little town we live near. It is such a dark, hopeless world that most of these people live in. Even having seen a lot of poverty and "third-world-culture" in other places, the quality of life here--or lack of it--amazes me. Walking by tiny little shacks and big abandoned-looking buildings and piles of trash, I waved at little children and mothers and grandmothers and fathers and uncles who sat, some under a tree braiding someone's hair, some talking, some waiting for a bus, some just sitting and waiting for the day to be over. Most people smile and wave back, probably amused by the sight of these funny white girls and their strollers and glad to have something to smile at.

Oh, Jesus... what can I do?

What are You wanting to do here?

What do You want to say to this little boy? What do You want to give to this older woman?

Show me... and use me. You're all I have, and You're all they need.

You have me here for a reason, so

here I am. ..