Post Traumatic Vacation Disorder

"She is bothering me, mommy" Ava says. Lilly quickly replies, "She was messing with my new purse." And so real life starts again. The quarreling, the heat, the same struggles of homeschool. Vacation can't last forever. I text a friend I'm going through PTVD ... Post Traumatic Vacation Disorder. I think one only gets this when it's been a fabulous trip so I can't complain that it was that good we are still trying to get over the adjustment of coming back!

Yesterday we woke in the dark and arrived at the airport with sleepy eyes and suitcases in hand. Time to travel back. I think of what a shame it is to have so many hours between the alarm sounding and take off but I say a line of gratitude for not being stuck in between with stress of missed flights. My little buddy holds her new purse. She looks so old to me. I remember her first day to walk into this airport back from Bolivia. We board way before 6 a.m. It's still dark and the attendant says there's no coffee?! Really?!! No coffee on a dark flight before daylight. I ask for milk for my little and she shakes her head again. We started the day with waters instead and a drooly nap on the tray table. It's never easy to walk in or out of the wardrobe and into our other world. The trip was smooth and at the end was a blond baby and a welcoming husband. The day ended as soon as possible and a good night sleep was hours longer than the one before. 

Today I find myself reflecting back on the last two weeks. It was so full. The time went so fast. I tell Mr. Farmer it was good to be filled up. Good to see faces I loved and who loved me. I tell my mom today that it was so much easier to talk about struggles of Haiti in the States than live them out in Haiti. The school girl daughter I have reigns me back in with her pencil waving. She doesn't understand. More math that she doesn't want to do. We go back to prayer and start again. The question asks how many pages are in her Reading book. She answers, "I don't know." I sit there and think ... "well, look at the book, child." I am trying to teach her to be resourceful and yet she resists it for school sake. She has no trouble when it comes to finding the right person with the right stuff. I explain in order to make a Dutch baby for breakfast, I find flour in the wrong cabinet, butter, some milk in the other fridge, eggs in the chicken coop and put it all together. I didn't see it all sitting on the counter waiting for me. How does one learn to be resourceful? Her tears continue post-breakfast but this time due to a mistaken answer and an argument that she's right. I suggest we move quickly to Bible but she insists we get to Bible later. The morning school turns to afternoon and our suitcases sit wide open full but disheveled from Ava's curiosity. I wish I could count days left of homeschool. I want a schedule that promises good days, easy ones. I want carpool lines and how was school conversations in the afternoons. But instead I make more deals with the second grader that give me hope. You have a good attitude and we'll be through by noon. You work hard Monday-Friday and I'll give you Saturday off. No one is signing on the dotted line but we do review diligence and cheerful attitude. Over and over. I get to the three year old and lie down with her for rest time. I suggest we sing. She shakes her head and says no thank you song. I say I want to sing. Singing keeps me going these days. I start to sing the Doxology and she plugs her ears. Without any warning warm tears spill over and I find myself in a lonely place, weary already, singing by myself to plugged ears but to the One who hears ... Praise God from whom ALL blessings flow, praise Him all creatures here below ... 

After rest time, we visit the orphanage and see bright faces. Lots of progress on the intern dorms and computer lab. Ydalia and the little ones come running out. My girls have bracelets from a friend for each one. It's fun to see them all giggling together. I catch up with the older ones doing copy work. It's so good to see each one of them. It's almost dark and we get back to Bible. I help Lilly repeat the verses. We get to Romans 12:11 that says, "Do not be lazy but work hard. Serve the Lord with all your heart." I absorb it into my brain again and we talk about how we've been lazy and how we could do better. We go on to talk about unwholesome talk and the one about delighting in the Lord and how he who began a good work will carry it on to completion. We mention that Papi is good at listening and slow to speak. I take a moment to pray. Please let these come to the front of my mind as I need them. Hymns are playing in the background and I hear I Need Thee Every Hour. I am grateful for that. It's truth in this season of my life. Every hour. Lean in. Dig deeper. Bow lower. Every hour.

In the rest time I talk to the farmer. He's frustrated and feeling disrespected. We go through the scenario. He says he just needs to let go and let it slide down and right off. We talk about our prayers, our struggles, what we can do better, different. I love him for his demeanor. The absolute unwillingness to pay back wrong that is done to him. The kindness that rolls off his tongue comes as a shock to me when it's consistent for him. We talk about highlights and lowlights of the last two weeks. The lowlight is Ava's unchanging sick stomach.

Ava prays, "Thank you for my Papi, for my Lilly and for the chickens." And like that I"m out of the line up. She prays for her tummy too. She's still not well. Tummy aches that can be relentless. The ones that wake her, wake us, that ball her into the fetal position and cry out something's wrong. I have an appointment for her with a specialist in December. Six more weeks of the unknown stomach symptoms. I wish she was better but it is another topic bringing me to my knees. More time in the Word. More praying. I keep thinking of the lyrics to Kim Walker's song that says Where you go, I'll go, where you stay, I'll stay, where you pray, I'll pray ... 

I read a few more pages of my new book. Dave Stone lends such practical advice in his How to Raise Selfless Kids in a Self-Centered World. I like his examples. I talked to my flight partner on the plane yesterday about how selflessness looks. She says giving up her seat at dinner or sharing her new toy with her sister. It's full of pages of how to live it but it's counterculture. It says, "We scream me and Jesus screams them." I tell my mom on the phone this morning I have to admit this is the most self-sacrifice I've ever experienced in my life. Not just the carpool drop off and one more story type. The day in and day out around the clock and then when kids are in bed, hosting teams nightly, type. I realize the long sleep last night gave me stamina to address the issues today in a self-controlled capacity. The fourth please pick up your shoes and the spilled flour I asked them not to touch was in less than a yell and I was proud of that. I can tell I've had a break. 

I miss the fish and salad. The getting in my car and ending up across the table with a decaf mocha and a friend. The long runs under various shades of tree leaves. Contentment seems like it's just barely out of reach and yet I know it's a training of the mind and not a balloon lifted by helium floating up to the sky, never to be within reach. The joy hasn't left either. It's here. It's up for the taking. It's a choice. One almost hourly in our house. Ava melts down over a stern correction. Lilly wants a longer break. I want community and a little bit of cooperation. I want, I want, I want. This is the day the Lord has made, let us rejoice and be glad in it. I recite this one back to Lilly while I sling sweat on the treadmill. This is the day, Lil! This is it! She looks at me quizzically and says, "what?" I say this is the day the Lord has made. We have to choose our joy. Let's make sure we choose it. The same book says, "If you do what you've always done, you'll get what you've always gotten." I want different and I declare it. I tell the farmer I'm trying to keep my head above water and the girls are inadvertently trying to drown me. I remember the line yesterday on the plane, put the oxygen over your own face first before helping someone else. You can't help people when you're without oxygen or under water.  

Mom is still fighting herself. She says she has to learn what it means to take care of herself and miss a meeting or a ballgame. It's a new normal. I loved every minute with her. When you almost lose a mama every minute afterwards changes. We shopped. We cooked. We made cookies. We laughed. We sat by the fire. We cheered on Bulldogs and Royals. I love her so much. It was hard to still see her dizziness, her headaches, her back in bed. Her thin frame. Setbacks must feel like a lonely battle but we all felt the weight of them. She pays a price for the good moments. I dropped her off at work and she was late going in. She stepped out of the car and had a hard time letting go of the car to grab hold of the no parking sign. But she is more grateful than anyone I could imagine in her shoes. In the last five minutes of the drive she said, "I'm thankful for my job, for a good boss, for flexibility, for the ability to work, for days I feel good, for family..." Gratitude is the highest expression of thought.

My little student filled her journal this morning with a list of thankfulness. Thank you for Baby Everett, for Tia, for them making the trip to Memphis, for making new friends, for my best friend coming to visit, etc. The list is sometimes a chore but not today. We had the best time with Sarah and her precious little guy, Everett, who is six weeks old. He is a happy, curious little one. Sarah said more than once what a miracle he is and it's true. Children are a blessing from the Lord and a miracle indeed. How could one argue that? The little cries and coos were so sweet. I only saw Lilly give him up for a diaper change and feeding time. Lilly spent the better part of the two weeks with friends and family. It was a dream come true for both of us. She was on the plane recounting s'mores with Abby and the races on scooters. I relived the long conversations and laughter with friends as we traveled back to the Hope Center. It wasn't sad. It was a grateful place in my heart that was holding on to memories that I hope resurface again. And they will. We are here for a purpose and I refuse to lose sight of God's word. He has plans for us to prosper and not to destroy.

I put babies to bed and add to my own list of thankfulness. It's all for his glory. For his glory. For his glory. 

Overjoyed In the City

A text comes in from a good friend and like that I'm at a little local coffee shop with chattering mouths, mocha smells and abounding sweets. Oh America, I love you. I try to live in the land without and I get here and I splurge on a land with too much. The lack of balance is so hard to go between. It's been a week of splurge. Two cups of coffee because it tastes so good, every meal out with a friend or family member, predictable phone reception, a lot of miles logged in my sneakers, cool weather, new sweaters, and it goes on. It's a joy I haven't felt lately. A familiar joy of the known. Of freedom. I am giddy getting in my car. The seat molds to my bum and the radio is already in English. It's so great. Lilly said the other day before our road trip that she was most excited about riding in a booster instead of car seat. Little things bring great joy! Lilly snuggles her warm body next to mine at night and consumes a hot bagel with butter at sunrise. I swim in warm salt water and run through streets of trees with changing colors. I am enjoying every minute. We both are. Dinner and a friend across the table who knows my story and my struggle lends words of encouragement. I crave relationship more than I know. I don't need a girls' night every night but six in a row and then none for months is out of whack too. I absorb the six and think can I bottle it up and take it with me and let it burn slowly like a good-smelling candle. I get a call from mom that she may meet me for a free afternoon. Her body struggles to do what she wants it too. Her brain still swelling and still slowing her down. She's thin and fragile but strong at heart and fighting for her team in the Series.

Good friends, best friends, traveled the road from TX to TN and we soaked up every minute. I can't imagine life without these two. Abby walked into the house and Lilly's jaw drop. A six year old surprised by a best friend in a world away of no best friends. I wished I would have recorded it. I am filled up by relationship. The simple swap in information of our lives. I listen to hard stories and schools starting. I hear the struggles and the joys and tell mine. It unfolds over park afternoons and outside fires. Sarah and I sit on the Main Square steps eating fro yo dreaming of our future and the girls 20 years from now. I can't stand it. I'm all filled up and on cloud 9. Lilly too. There they go, two pink scooters like a blur around the block. They can't stop giggling.

The road trip was the same way. New friends and old ones. Ones who ask about Haiti and ones who ask just about us. Unexpected gifts make grace look real. I'm grateful. I want to give more, bless more, think of it more. Dinner time with people who know my place. Who understand what we're up against with no timeline. It's refreshing. Lilly is big now. Listens and repeats. I have to speak code if I  want to get past her ears. It's a new stage. We spend time talking about discerning and wisdom and what people need to hear and what helps and what hurts.

I talk to a friend in a hard marriage and have no answers but a lot of prayer. I stay on the phone late with the Farmer to find out where he is on a heartbreaking story that unraveled itself in the midst of a messy church. We talk present and future. Treatment for Aves and homeschool strategies for Lilly. It's a hard conversation that has no real concrete answers or even steps. He's feeling fresh hurt from the church and more piled on from a co worker who skipped over offering an invitation that would have made a difference. But we hold our hands open and say out loud it was never ours. We didn't deserve it or own it or need it. We just want it. Hurt takes time to heal and the time moves slow when it's fresh.

A few more days away and we're back on a plane. I can't spend all my time on the computer. I have to soak it in.

Worlds Apart

Today I maced two dogs.


Great start to a day ... two scrawny dogs come barreling out from behind a fence and don't stop until they are nipping at my ankles. I had a rock in one hand and mace in the other. Given their close proximity I didn't think the rock would help, so I sprayed the mace. I figure between the spray and the owner calling them back in, they graciously let me go this time and I picked my heart up out of the gravel road, get it beating again and truck along. It would not have been a good time for me to check my blood pressure.

The scary turned sad this evening when Ava saw me packing a suitcase and she packed herself one. I can imagine her little thoughts in that head thinking, "oh if she's packing, I'm packing..." and there she was with one suitcase bigger than her and complete with baby dolls, toothpaste and a blanket. I wish I could just pack her in there.

Lilly and I travel tomorrow ... we are off for a little fall break ... on our own little adventure! This sad mama is excited to have her eldest along but hates to leave the little one behind. I have left an outfit for each day and lists of instructions as Mr. Farmer and Doctor hold down the fort. The team members agree to help out and the Haitian staff who make up family here are already geared up for "Ava duty."

Tonight as I put a few things in a suitcase, David Crowder's version of the Praise God From Whom All Blessings Flow started up and I didn't think twice about it until I walked past the next room and two little voices were singing along. One of which came bursting in and said he's singing the Doxogy like we do. There was a little part of this mama's heart that was smiling that those words are hidden in their hearts at the early ages of 6 and 3.

I am about to get in bed and I think about Madam Olicia from Bible study who didn't get to come today because she saw a snake slither into her mud house and then she couldn't find it. She sent her neighbor the 3 plus miles to tell me she wouldn't be there. He had his pint sized daughter with him and took a seat, figuring he mine as well stay for the study. How does one say no to a man at a women's Bible study when he's walked for an hour to help a neighbor? He sat back out of the circle and listened. The women chime in about how the devil tempts them and what they do to push him back. I think about a dear friend in the study who continues to want prayer that she wouldn't live in sin anymore and I can't understand the repetitive request every week. She wants to help with children's ministry but the Bible talks about sin being sin and where does that leave one choosing it? I get a surprising and disappointing text during the study and my mind wanders from the devil prowling like a lion to things back in the States. The farmer texts me that he's surprised too and can we reverse some decisions that have already been made. I cut the study short when the sky grows dark and the lightning strikes close. I can't concentrate. The ladies have to walk home and I don't want them wet. I am talking about wholeheartedness and in that moment my mind is split in sections over things back home and things here, sisters living in sin and wanting to serve.

We make the phone calls and write the emails about the disappointment, then jump in the truck and take the kind neighbor and another friend to their house. Lilly Cruz spots a rainbow and I smile, 'remember what I told you ... it's a sign of promise ....' We get to Madam Olicia's house. She's been upset all day about the snake that slithered in. She has ripped out all the walls inside her little mud hut and taken down blankets, etc to find that kulev to no avail. Her house is surrounded by barren land and black ashes. The neighbors burned everything around the house and the snakes are still inside. She kneels, desperate, and I pray. Alex interprets. I tell her God sees her pain and knows she has six little babies on the floor in that room too precious for bites. She is close to tears again, I can see she's spilled some over already over those threatening creatures. It's raining and we're late for dinner at the Hope Center. A night and day difference. I think on the way back how hot food is awaiting us there and she can't sleep over snakes hurting her babies. We are practically neighbors and living worlds apart.

Tomorrow we'll step out of here and into there and the bridge is even bigger. In a thankful way I realize I'm so grateful to know both worlds. God made them both and the right people to live in each.

A Good Visit

A lazy Friday. An empty Hope Center. The down time is welcomed before the teams start up tomorrow. Home school is mostly complete and checked off.

This past week we hosted family! Our first family visitors! Coco and Doodad stepped off the plane on Sept. 29 and the trip was full of hide and seeks, read alouds, learning strategies and a tour of Haiti. The girls were on cloud nine with new gifts, special attention and a lot of one-on-one time with grandparents. John and Sharon were gracious to do as we do and go with the flow. Knocks on the door, phone ringing, chickens needing attention, Haitian menus, etc. It's a new culture and it starts before you even exit the airport. Their faces beamed as bright as the two little people who were anxiously drawing pictures of rainbows with the word Welcome across them. "Coco, this is where we go to get water..." and "Doodad, this is where we jump on the trampoline..." ... Lots of showing new loved ones around our new home. Suitcases of goodies arrived and hugs all around!

We spent several days as normal. I get a break from the normal school load to nurse an ailing tooth and the girls get new teachers for a few days. Coco has her student on her lap, sky writing the cursive letters. Ava is calling out flash cards and being silly. It was a lovely break in the every day.

The freedom team ended a week of pastor's conference with a washing of feet for each local pastor and some beautiful songs from Mickenson. The team was instrumental in helping with chicken coops, VBS, youth activities and equipping leaders to lead their own communities. They were a blessing to all. I saw a young woman and a dedicated father live out what I would love to see between my two littles and their farmer dad. A relationship of trust and friendship. A day started with 'good mornin' darlin' and a hug. It was beautiful and rare and I soaked in the could be's of seeing more of it in my own family. It's good to sit in on the team meetings and hear the awestruck in their voice and the plans to go back and be different. Sometimes we see all this as work and miss the blessing. They see the blessing and sometimes miss the work (which is a blessing in itself). I can sit in and be invisible. My name's not a part of their meeting and I know God sees me in it all. He sees the service behind the doors and the investment in little girls, the quiet help in the background. He sees it. I have to be reminded because I'm doing it for him. Not for team members, not for little people, not for a newsletter, just for Him. The service doesn't get thank yous and hands clapping. The service unto people makes bones weary and hearts frustrated. There's no bargaining for reward, rather just sitting in for the blessing. And I commit again in my heart to keep up the hard work, the hours of service and don't back down.

We put the beach towels in the car and drive toward the water. It's not too long before we see the waves crashing and feel the sand. Ohhhh the beach. It's so good to be outside the walls and into vacation just that fast. Grandparents sink into the water holding babies they've been missing. I open a book on the differences between cultures and what to expect in the area of finances. It helps me understand what to expect and the thinking behind it. I snap photos with my phone. I feel overly excited to be outside here.

We get a phone call that Gislene has passed away. Tony and Mickie are on their way over to see her family. Her fight was over days ago but her body gave way to her wishes and she slipped into Jesus' arms with just a last breath. It was hard to hear that it was over. There are always the what ifs and the miracle stories waiting to be told. There is always a definitive answer to prayers with death. The yes and no all intertwined. We let a few people know she has breathed her last and wait for details of a celebration of her life. Her son feels numb and has eyes glazed over when we see him next.

We change venues from the waves to the pool and Ava is putting on bright orange, air-filled "muscles" to help her swim. I love that we can avoid the word "floaties" altogether and call them by name. Pizza comes and tummies fill. It's relaxation at its best and it's not over for two days.

Our brown skin and green hair scream for time to get out of the chlorine and go home. We meet a beautiful couple who are doing the same thing. Getting away from ministry for a few short hours between too much time of serving. We chat about the ins and outs of full-time ministry and what it calls us to and the support needed. Lots of good ground to cover. We swap information and agree to be fast friends if we cross paths again.

The sun sets before we get back to the Hope Center but the cool breeze keeps Ava from puking. A full car and the Haiti roads make for an anxious mama with a carsick baby. We roll in and hugs go to Miguelson whose truck gives his presence away. He is waiting on two little girls to arrive.

Sunday morning my counter is lined with warm and hungry bodies waiting for breakfast to go with their black coffee. "Pancakes on the way," I say. Honey spills over the stacks of hotcakes and forks start moving. Soon we're all dressed and out the door. New truck to drive and lots of thankfulness from the farmer for it. We won't have it long but it's here for the trip to church. We see friends at the door and we're greeted in English. Always refreshing. Never gets old. It's donut Sunday and I think why did I bother with breakfast. Everyone is holding an oversized circle of fried dough covered in sugar. The girls' grins couldn't stretch out any more. Sticky hands and we enter in. Our hands go up in praise. My little blondie doesn't let go of Guelson. Pastor spends time talking about our divided hearts. The locals see the trend with the Catholicism and Voodooism mixed altogether in one heart and then it hits closer to home about our old hearts and new hearts. Our mixing of religion to make our own customized God. I feel the conviction of my own divided heart. My trust in all checked categories except this and that. John moves toward the pastor afterwards to talk anthropology and I visit with a friend who is carrying around a wounded heart from past hurts. It's good to see the girls play with friends.

We end up at the fancy grocery store for a few items where friends are eating lunch in the little cafe. I suggest we stay for lunch. We kid Miguelson about not telling us his birthday. I tell Charles lets just celebrate it anyways. So we discreetly buy a big chocolate cake (since we're at a bakery/cafe anyways) and our friends join in with one big song of Happy Birthday. Miguelson didn't see it coming and is still a little surprised that the number of Americans sitting in the place have now joined in and all eyes are on him. He blushes and we can tell he's pleased and embarrassed in a happy sort of way. Ava is still clapping. Yay for birthday and yay for Chocolate cake! It's always fun to bless another. Birthday or not. The girls continued singing through the afternoon and telling the news that today was Miguelson's birthday! We went for our regular run/ride up to another mountain top with me running and Miguelson following. I look in the truck and see his little chi chi buckled in next to him. My own water girl. Patton agrees to run up the mountain with me but has labored breathing and jumps in the truck. We get to the top and it's breathtaking. Every time. But now we are behind schedule and before long we're all back in the truck and I'm driving the new truck back to Hope Center. At dinner we lit candles, sang and cut cake again. A birthday should last the whole day! What a birthday for our buddy! I slip the last quarter of the cake in the fridge outside and tell him to take it with him. He shrugs like we can just keep it but the box is gone the next morning and I grin on the inside that he's taken the cake with him and he's secretly glad we all had the day together to celebrate him.

The week gives way to no team and a slow start. Tuesday we said goodbye to grandparents with ease. It won't be long before we see them. They hug and grab suitcases. We spread out in the truck and close our eyes. Wednesday called for a Haitian dentist appointment. A rare and scary agenda for the day. Long story short it was narrowly avoided and will be most likely rescheduled in the future. We made the best of the day rather by the pool at a beautiful hotel in the mountains. It was warm and the pool was chilly. The girls claimed they had the best Haitian hamburger yet. We talked about the future and ministry, trips and friends. The girls were drawn to a little guy whose parents were from the Congo and Belgium, here on work. We exchanged small talk and our contact information. It was good to breathe deep and another break. It didn't come without a lesson. On the way there Ava was growing carsick and restless. I found myself thinking it was closer than it was. We had made some wrong turns and Alex was unsure of its exact location. I started thinking "When are we ever going to get there?" and then with my stomach turning and my impatience growing, the thoughts came off my lips and now they were audible ... My complaining grew from thought to action. I was wanting to blame it on someone else in the car. The patient farmer I married mentioned that my complaining was not resolving anything or speeding the trip. I agreed and accepted he was right. I quieted and reflected that I hate how impatient I am. Later Alex makes a comment and I want to scream on the inside saying, "I know, I know. I'm working on it. I can't seem to grasp hold of the patience I keep looking for. But I don't need reminders that I have had another episode of failure in the patience category." Growing is hard. Especially when failures meet good intentions. There was a time I would have justified my impatience and created a case for it. However, I do know that the convictions are getting closer to the sin and I was once told that in itself is progress.

I was recently listening to a sermon that was on the topic of God delighting in his people and we are to love as he loves. We are to delight as he delights. I, like the pastor, was convicted that I don't always delight in my children. I had just said to my oldest how much I delighted to see her swim in the pool. She stopped to recall that word as she had learned it and asked, "like 2 Samuel 22:20 that says 'He brought me into a broad place, he rescued me because he delighted in me.'" Exactly. I think it is changing my perspective to constantly look into my own life and ask myself am I delighting in people? Am I loving them by enjoying them? I found that my perspective is shifting. It's helping in school, in chores, in ministry, etc.

A couple of nights ago I could tell I was tired. Lilly saw my plate and there were ants crawling across it. With fork in hand, I kept eating. I was too tired to kill ants and rework a new plate. I had been up too many hours stewing over decisions made and money spent. I told the girls I couldn't help them bathe. I was too tired. Charles was busy and I simply laid down on my bed. I was in and out as one read me a bed time story and said prayers. I was asleep for 12 hours with sneakers on and fully clothed. Sometimes I hit a roadblock and have to sleep before I can physically tackle anything else. Even a bath or bedtime story or ants on my dinner.

Thankfully I lasted longer last night when we had our local pastor and his wife for dinner. What does one cook for Haitians? I never know. I went with spaghetti despite that they eat it for breakfast with ketchup and hot dogs here. Dinner was fun and a mix of English, French and Creole to discuss the church activities, ministry, jobs and so forth. Mickenson is wise and patient. He is an inspiration to us, an exception, as we have seen pastors become corrupt and crooked. He is also a gifted singer and guitarist. He teaches Lilly guitar and as I walk into her last lesson I see them with heads bowed and him praying first, and her second that God would make them into godly musicians, playing for his glory. How sweet and sacred a little moment like that is. Now she is praying before she practices and I thank him for setting the habit. Mickenson's wife, Jasmine, has a quiet disposition. She's waiting on the Lord for a job and to conceive children. Together they want to impact our community. We laid hands on them last night in prayer for their hopes to have a family, to buy a car, to start a language school and to serve this community. It was powerful and exciting. There is so much potential and God has a lot in store for them. It is a blessing to take part in that.

It's the end of the week. I run through the village and over the rocks. I play in my head an upcoming trip. I think about when I'll tell my little one that she is going too. Lots of thoughts of the time away and I get lost in the mental planning of it. I see several trucks full of men headed to the market. The truck stops by me and men yell out something I thankfully don't understand. I pray again for protection. Maybe it's the dozenth time I've prayed for protection on this run alone. I think of writing a book titled "Want to Increase Your Prayer Life? Run In Haiti" but I think this may have to be for a later date. I get back to the Hope Center with muddy shoes. It reminds me to thank God for the rain that fell so hard last night. I also think of the people who may be sleeping the day away after being wet all night. This morning I step out of a shower and she has taken a school break to recount her life to a listening ear. My mom is on the other line asking about the friends at the orphanage and her math problems. Sister chimes in that she's using her muscles to swim and we have had chocolate cake for Guelson's birthday. I love to see their faces light up and can only imagine the same for my mom's. It's a good thought. One that brings joy in a season where joy is an intentional choice and one in which I'm daily striving. So much to learn and so much to be thankful for ...

Laundry day ...