I would give you the shirt off my back...

But you want the shoes on my feet?

God and I had a conversation earlier in the day about giving. Tracy and I came to Haiti with about 100 pounds of gently used shirts, swatches of fabric, diapers, wipes, soap and pillowcases. It came in 2 duffel bags that were staying. We personally packed light and expected that we would leave a majority of our wardrobe as well. I love to give especially when I know the gift will be used and appreciated.

Back to my God conversation. He and I were talking because one of the room mamas who doesn't speak English pointed to my bright red skirt, smiled and said "love"! I picked up the skirt while on vacation this summer in Kansas City. I bought it with the intention of leaving it and its sisters, bright blue skirt and bright purple skirt. They were fun colors but not really my style of choice. It was easy to tell her the skirt was hers tomorrow. I thanked God that my bright red skirt could bring someone such joy. He then said "Give it all". I thought about how I would divvy up my skirts. Would it be to the mamas or to the teenage girls? I didn't really have any intention of handing out my shirts. I brought running shirts that I had gotten at races. They had memories attached. This one was my first half marathon, this half marathon was my best finish time, this shirt is white and will be ruined within a couple of wearings, BUT if you want me to I will give them. Later, I went up to Christopher's room to take pictures of his roommates. Mama Delva is Christopher's room mama. She's beautiful and about my height. She also doesn't speak ANY English, not a word, and my creole is even more atrocious than my hand gestures so there's smiling, hugging and cheek kisses to show our blossoming friendship. She pointed to my shoes and nodded her head. Wait. What? You want my shoes? No. What? These, God? Are you sure she doesn't just want my blue skirt? They're not even going to fit her right! These are my Chacos!!

For you who don't understand my dismay, Chacos are REALLY expensive (I'll just call them as she saw them) flip flops. They have an arch support, the intricate straps are all 1 piece that weave around your foot, and once you figure out how big to make each loop they fit you like a tailored glove. I started wearing them after my Chiropractor called me out for buying orthotics for my running shoes and then wearing $2 Old Navy flip flops the rest of the day. "You're ruining you feet and no wonder your back hurts..." I wore them all summer: to the pool, after races, to church, with skirts, shorts, casual, semi-dressy... I hope you're getting the picture. They were my go-to shoe.

God was not asking me to give what was easy and unnecessary in my life; He was asking me to give up something slightly more precious and valuable. I was going to feel this gift giving. As I slid it off my foot the thought when through my mind, "don't fit." How selfish and rude! God knew they would fit. God saw her $2 flip flops and all the work she does on her feet all day and said to me, "I care for her feet and back, too." I care for you both. I love you both.

At the end of the week, Emily (the missionary that lives at Lifeline) and I walked upstairs with my Chacos. I handed them to her and Emily told her they were hers. The hug was so big and it matched her smile. As we were leaving, Emily said that those were probably the nicest shoes she'd ever had and they would last her a long time. I came home in my old Tevas that I planned on leaving at the orphanage, but I came home with a full heart, knowing that I listened to the prompting of God. I will not lie, I was resistant when God first asked for obedience. I wanted to make excuses that would justify my disobedience. As I shared the interaction with a team member she said, "You can always buy another pair when you get home." True. But what if I never replaced them? What if I went without as a reminder that there are many people in this world who go without every day and I am not usually one of them? God challenged me to go beyond my own plans and I obeyed.

Will I continue to hear God's prompting and be obedient even if it's past my comfort level or my own expectations? I deeply desire that to be true.

My Chacos and my fun red skirt

Precious Mama Delva 

(Thank you to whoever took this picture. It's borrowed from someone on our team).

Feels Like Coming Home

It was the weirdest feeling. I almost didn't lean out the window to catch a glimpse of the island as we started our descent. It had been an extremely long night, sleeping in the Newark airport rather than opting for a hotel room this time. I was freezing and huddled under my bath towel for 4 1/2 hours, just waiting for the first airport restaurant to open. Our flight left Newark 4 hours after my first cup of coffee and I was exhausted. I slept a little of the 4 hour flight but mostly prayed. Prayed that I would have enough emotional energy to sustain whatever would come, prayed for our little man that he would be willing to be himself, prayed for the kids at Haiti Lifeline that we would be with for a week, prayed for the team in South Dakota who was finishing their preparations to come 2 days after we arrived, prayed that our old plane would make it across the Atlantic corridor safely into Haiti and prayed that God would use me.

At the last minute, I opened my window shade and leaned over to take a look. "It feels like coming home" was literally the thought that popped in my head. This was my third trip in 8 months to a country that I never dreamed I would get a chance to visit once. I love the people, the sights, the food and my unexpected feeling of awe at the way a country can exude so much national pride with seemingly nothing to take pride in by Western standards. We landed, walked down the stairs onto the tarmac and over to the bus that takes us to immigration with ease as though it was the way it's done everywhere. The air was cool and after a shivering night, it was not a pleasant surprise. Tracy gathered our bags after easing our way through immigration and we began "the walk". The other 2 trips I/we were greeted by Patrick or one of his Haitian helpers to get us to the vehicle. You see, as you leave the airport, the"red shirts" are immediately there wanting to help you with your bags, help you get a ride, help, help, help. They always reassure you that they know who you are waiting for and that they can help you find them. None of this comes free and so we have to be careful to hold our bags tight, politely say, "No, mesi" and continue forward as though we know what we are doing even if we don't have a clue. We hadn't been in contact with Emily or Nicole personally so the panicked thoughts went through my head of what would we do scenarios if someone wasn't there to greet us. I don't know enough Creole to talk my way out of a box! At the end of the long outdoor corridor between baggage pick-up and the parking lot, there was Emily's smiling self waiting to greet us. The sight of her melted away all panic. Soon after that, we were pleasantly surprised that Mama Nicole came, too (the orphanage director). No sooner than we had our bags loaded and we were securely in the SUV, it began to rain.

Our trip to Haiti Lifeline was a quick drive relative to Haiti travel. It was a road very familiar since there is only 1 main road that goes from Port-au-Prince to Croix des Bouquet. Christopher knew we were coming and in his coy way he greeted us with great big cuddly hugs. We got to eat right away even though it was 3:00 in the afternoon by the time we sat down. It was an enormous spread. Nicole and I had many conversations about Haiti's way of life and eating and being hospitable. I gobbled up the delicious food and any words that this dear lady had to share. It feels like getting to know Christopher's family and I am always so eager to hear any tidbit of her life and his that she has to share.


We flew in on Wednesday afternoon and wouldn't see the rest of our team until Friday afternoon. Our first few days were the 2 of us and 2 other guys from Kansas, Phil and David. It felt like Tracy got put to work right away after we got our things to our rooms. Christopher was given the choice to sleep with me, Papa or in his own bed. He chose me. I didn't bring enough clothes since I really didn't know what to expect, whether he would be with me or more independent, if he wanted what was familiar, if he was even aware of how it worked. I think he has seen enough mamas and papas come to know the routine. You get to be in the guesthouse eating all their food, wearing their clothes and being treated like a king! That's what he wanted so up to his room and his room mama, Mama Delva, to get more clothes and say Hi to all his roomies. I know many of them through their parents on Facebook. It is so special to see each face and know how loved they are by an awaiting family. I hugged and kissed them all with a little twinge of sadness for Mama Delva as I realized that she would be saying goodbye to all her babies within the next year and getting another 10-12 kids to love and take care of. She doesn't speak any English. I would love to ask her - does she ever think about the goodbyes?

There are so many details floating and I am trying to sort through what happened when. I didn't take my computer and typing on my i-Pad was too daunting of a task, especially if I took it outside the guesthouse. The kids were very eager for technology toys and I obliged until I realized they were spending more time hovered around a game than wanting to interact with me or each other (sound like any kid you know?) I resorted to taking my morning coffee to the school room with my journal which only got confiscated by more children who wanted to impress me with their writing skills. I had them write their names. That is one of my most treasured couple of sheets in that journal. It brought tears to my eyes as I thought of how each of my girls used to doodle their names and gibberish in amongst my scrawl. The thought that kept coming to me over and over was - these kids aren't much different than my girls.

My camera got taken while I was trying to journal

Always drinking coffee

I know not much of this first entry is about Christopher. This trip was longer than the other 2 trips and God had so much happen that I felt I had better start unpacking one thought stream at a time. Rest assured, I have much more to share. God has more to share with you, too, through my words. I can't wait to have time to pen them all.