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 ...
1 comment:
What a great visit with you all! Such a delight to be with you in Haiti and experience a little first hand of your lives there! Thanks again for the warm hospitality! Love, Coco and Doodad
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