They Give Their All

It is truly humbling to bring home a gift from Haiti. I have had such a hard time collecting my thoughts to share with you all. I have started and erased about 3 times now. There are no words to describe how blessed I feel by the godly women who take care of the kids at Haiti Lifeline Orphanage. Many of them have entrusted their family members to take care of their own children so that they can be with mine. They give their time, their discipline, their love to no end. 

On any given day during my visit, I would leave Christopher playing near the guesthouse and find myself drawn to the second floor dormitory where there are 3 rooms. The baby room (up to about age 3), preschool-age room and kindergarten-age room. Throughout the day the babies and preschoolers will play in their rooms and the open air walkway between. They LOVE visitors and I find myself sitting down quickly so that 3 children can fit on my legs, 1 in each arm and a couple of girls playing with my hair. They crave smiles and tickles and hugs; they can't get enough hugs! It's such a treasure to love on these sweet babies (so many of them have homes in America and that thrills my soul, too).

I am always greeted with a smile by all the mamas. They may be folding clothes, sweeping the floor, getting bottles ready for the babies, braiding hair, sitting down for a quick break OR my favorite time - they're chatting with each other. They motion for me to pull up a bucket and I listen. What they are talking about, I don't usually know, but they are always willing to include me. Sometimes, we try to talk to each other but we never truly understand what the other is saying.  When the time comes, I stand and give hugs all around. I feel loved and accepted by these women and I would love to know their stories and write them for you all. 

As a thank you, I was able to head up cooking them dinner the night before we left. Suffice it to say, God blessed us all through that time together of thanks. Delva (Christopher's room mama) stood up when they were done eating and through a translator told us that the only gift they had to offer in return was a song and a prayer. It was so amazing to hear them sing in unison and hear her powerful prayer in Creole. As the night came to a close, Emily (the missionary that lives there) told me that Delva had something for me. Delva and Mary (Christopher's other room mama) had spent the day making paper flowers for me. I remember seeing them being made and thinking how beautiful they were. The time and money put into such a sweet gift made me cry. I didn't deserve them. These women deserved more of me than I had offered. They gave me their friendship and a gift. It was hard to accept. I had brought Christmas gifts that they will get in December and my gift felt so small in comparison. 

I was reminded of the verses in Mark of the woman who gave more than all the rich combined because she gave it all. Today, in the season of giving, I am humbled by the most valuable gift I have already received. Nothing will quite compare unless I am willing to give my all.


Mark 12:41-44

The Message (MSG)

^41-44 Sitting across from the offering box, he was observing how the crowd tossed money in for the collection. Many of the rich were making large contributions. One poor widow came up and put in two small coins—a measly two cents. Jesus called his disciples over and said, “The truth is that this poor widow gave more to the collection than all the others put together. All the others gave what they’ll never miss; she gave extravagantly what she couldn’t afford—she gave her all.

A Bit Overwhelming

Coming back to America after a trip to Haiti can be a bit harsh on the senses.

I know I thought the same thing about arriving and being in Haiti my first time. When entering into a poverty stricken country we can tend to focus on the stark differences our senses are experiencing:

Smells of different spices and food, diesel fuels from the street cars, decomposing trash, burn piles, human waste, foul standing water and sweat to name a few.
Sights of broken roads, dirt and filth, poorly cared for children, trash piled on the side of the road, a dead animal and staring people.
Sounds of bartering men and women at the roadside market, children laughing, trucks honking, loud music or political rants from speakers and men telling us, "I give you good price."
Touching, well, minimal touching at first as we hesitate and wonder what we may contract or expose ourselves to.
Tasting new foods, cold Cokes, warm filtered water, dust that chokes and diesel that seems to become a flavor.
Feeling, the sixth sense, the Holy Spirit sense that grabs our heart and tells us that everyone needs compassion, the kindness of a Savior. The look I get from an old man who says, "Mesi, Madam, God. Bless. You." as I had him a $10 bill for his trinkets that he is selling. (mesi is thank you in Creole). It's singing praise songs with the orphaned teenage girls on a dark concrete porch lit by a lone bulb and then hugging and kissing them all "Bon nwit" (good night) before bed. It's rocking a teeny 3 week old baby in my arms knowing that she was found in the mud and brought to Mama Nicole because God has a wonderful plan for her life.

Overwhelming to be there at first maybe but as I stay and become a part of their life I become more at peace. While there, I don't have the urgent need to check my email every hour. No rushing to appointments, no worries about missing t.v. shows, there aren't after school activities that take the kids away. We eat together, play together, braid hair, smile, tickle, hold babies, watch a soccer game in the field and try our hand at teaching each other English and Creole (which leads to laughing).

After four trips this year I have found it more overwhelming to return home. Even on the plane, I am reminded of how lucky I am to be able to fly, a luxury that many Haitians will never in their lifetime get to experience. I step off the plane and am bombarded with sights of excess. Thoughts like, we are a 2 car family, each of my girls has their own room, I left my clothes for the Mamas in Haiti because I have a closet full of things I didn't take. The junk mail when I got home caught me off guard. Magazines for Christmas gifts, coupons for shopping, reminders of holiday entertainment opportunities that we are told WE JUST CAN'T MISS. I struggle with modern conveniences that cause our lives to be "easier" but in the end seem to separate us into our own little worlds rather than bring us closer as friends and community. The sounds of ringing phones, television, and alarms that make my heart pound as I am reminded that there are tasks to be done.

I have been home for a little over 2 days now and my heart didn't pound with anxiety when I woke up this morning. I have handed my overwhelmed thoughts to the Lord. I will make the changes in my life that God has challenged me to make and I will continue to pray that my heart will be tender to the needs not only in Haiti but in my everyday life as well.

Phillipians 4:6-7 (The Message)
Don’t fret or worry. Instead of worrying, pray. Let petitions and praises shape your worries into prayers, letting God know your concerns. Before you know it, a sense of God’s wholeness, everything coming together for good, will come and settle you down. It’s wonderful what happens when Christ displaces worry at the center of your life.

Silence is...

...golden.

But in my case, it's been painful and scary and hard. I have filled my moments where I could be silently waiting on the Lord because I fear hearing nothing.

Tracy and I returned from Haiti on August 14th LATE only to hit the ground running with the girls' first day of school the next morning. I didn't have to think or sit still, I just had to do. Hair, outfits, pictures, breakfast, lunches, hearing and telling stories, laundry, emails, work projects. The "to-do" list was great. I would sit down and process the trip later. There was no time. My heart is pounding right now remembering the anxious, overwhelmed feelings of needing it all to be done.

Fast forward and I found myself gearing up for another trip 2 months later, marveling at how time had flown. School, Bible study, running, working, family time, friend time, home management... I had spent time in the word and spent time praying but I had filled up the silence.

I didn't want to be still. Maybe there was fear of hopeless tears, maybe there was fear of being angry at God for not answering my prayers the way I desired, maybe there was fear of doubting God's grace in my son's life. Let me be honest - I KNOW those fears were there.

We found out on August 15th that IBESR would be opening their doors to new dossiers on the morning of the 16th. Our prayers were finally being answered and we would be in the Haitian system after waiting for almost 9 months after our responsibilities were completed! 2 weeks went by and our phone lines were silent. SILENT. No news, no file #, no movement. I am tearing up even now as my heart still gets clutched with frustration over not being able to control others' actions and others' hearts to be the first in line the morning they opened their doors. That's my child who sits in the orphanage an extra 2 weeks apart from us (and maybe longer because there were other files being delivered ahead of us). I didn't want to think about it. I didn't want to sit silently bawling my eyes out to the Lord. It hurt too much to dwell in silence. What good does it do to hurt?

God can heal. That's the good. He can take the hurt and the frustration and the confusion of our hearts and clean out the sinful anger and sinful desire to turn away from godly dependence. He then can stitch up our wounds, bandage them and kiss away our tears. He can hold us up and whisper words of comfort that help us know we are not alone in this journey. My prayers have turned from speaking requests to silently listening for His answer. I've made known my heart; now I need to hear His.

We have a file number. It was given to us August 31, 2012. That's almost 14 months after we started the process and 1 year after being matched with Christopher. God asks, "What's 1 year in eternity?" I will wait.

Psalm 5:1-3 Listen to my words, Lord, consider my lament. 
Hear my cry for help, my King and my God, for to you I pray.
In the morning, Lord, you hear my voice; 
in the morning I lay my requests before you and wait expectantly.