My little church diva
Mail came! Girls got a hold of some of it!
Gluten free bread ... just the beginning of a homemade egg sandwich with tomatoes from the garden and eggs from the chicken!
the Jim Gorrie at the top of the mountain!
Lilly made it to the top with me again!
Children's church in the simplest form
Miguelson with his best little buddy!
At the Tin Market ... this says United Work Shop trash can in memory of Remy Rarul Michee. Just have never seen a trash can in memory of anyone ...
Thankful she was feeling better on this particular afternoon.
Lilly Cruz helping her farmer dad
Lilly almost stepped on Mr. Tarantula who was as big as my hand. We are killing them quite frequently these days.
Ava showing Pastor Mickenson how she writes her name!
Lilly attempting to do her friend's hair with a little grease and a lot of hair paraphernalia.
My sick little one. Off and on.
Church clean up day!
Alex, Ava and Jasmine (Pastor Mickenson's wife) at the clean up day!
Christana receiving gifts from a team
Edna
Our view at sunset
Gilot!
Helene - totally recovered from Cholera a few weeks ago!
Josyln
Stephenson - he lost a tooth this week but wouldn't show it in his smile
The baby - Davinski
Tonight I walk into church and I'm one of the only ones not looking to plug my phone in. The others who come in have phone and charger in hand. They stop at the outlet and plug in their phone and they're ready to worship. It's a third world situation. When one doesn't have power and the lights are on in the church, the doors are open and the outlets are free for charging. I get it. It's a third world issue but I also know the tall walls that are between me and them. I plug my phone in at home by my bed with the convenience of electricity most nights. I can't imagine waiting for the lights in the church to go on to communicate with the outside world.
A slow day with no less surprises than normal. The bus key is missing, someone says. I look for Charles. Tony says he's trying to hot wire the bus since they need to drop off the team soon. There's Charles' legs and he's not totally visible, hot wiring the bus with Meresse and others standing around. Then I hear a much anticipated visitor won't be on the plane and hear of Tony and Mickie's disappointment.
I talk to a team member before he leaves this morning and he offers a few encouraging words. He reminds me that God sees us here and knows of our efforts despite if others miss it. I agree and respond that it was never about working for man; it was never about us. It was always about working for God. He gets choked up telling a story about missionaries trying to reach their home and it being a much longer journey than anticipated. I appreciate his tender-heartedness and have been revisiting that conversation in my head all day.
It came after another heartfelt conversation in the bedroom this morning. We have been praying and processing and praying and processing. This morning was a lot of that with a cup of coffee in hand and a three year old sleeping between us. An ailing little girl who can't seem to sleep at the right hours due to a belly that won't let her. We discuss Galatians 6 that addresses walking in the Spirit and what does that look like? What does carrying our own load look like? I ask him about vs. 9 that says Let us not become weary in doing good, for at the proper time we will reap a harvest if we do not give up. I think firstly, it's too late. I'm already weary. I passed the point of "becoming weary." I'm trying to do the good but in a weary way. Where is the sign that says "you're becoming weary - STOP!?" Secondly, I think what is the proper time? I'm ready to reap a harvest. When is that, God? Can you give me just a clue of when that will be so I can make it? We only reap a harvest if we do not give up. I'm trying not to. What is giving up? Lately I've been close. Packing up, giving up, slowing up. I want quick answers without all the waiting and trust part.
I read a missionary's account of the same feelings. A mama in the South Pacific ... different place, same struggles. Feeling inadequate in a whirlwind of service, home schooling, kids, heat, etc. It was good to share the struggles even if over the curled pages. The power is off and that means rest time ends with sweaty hair matted to faces including my own. Power has been off about 6 hours a day, usually right at the hottest part of it. The farmer tries to rest but can't sit still for killing roaches, crickets and the like. School is over. A perfect math test and a list of pronouns on the white board. We welcome the weekend. No team arrives tomorrow. The rare Saturday. We make plans with a close Haitian friend who agrees to try a new Japanese restaurant with us and our two little people. My oldest and I start water colors with a plan to cover three jars that are labeled God, Savings and Spending. Money goes in from the chores and she plots out how she wants to spend it all.
We play a slow game of hide and seek that's fast to two little legs that hide in the corner. We walk down to the orphanage and hear all their squealing in the showers. Happy faces from the boys put a smile on my own face. Ydalia looks tired and I can see her day's work just from all the uniforms and clothes hanging from the line. I think to myself that 13 of everything sure is a lot. We make a plan for Saturday and another plan for Sunday. She kneels down, puts Ava on one knee and swaps her shoes. Haitians can't stand that Ava likes those rain boots and all her shoes on backwards. As soon as they are swapped, Ava's off running and Ydalia feels better about it. I hug her and ask if she had any more questions about her homework before she goes to English class tomorrow. She shakes her head, too tired for words and gives me her best half smile that she can attempt. Na we demen. See you tomorrow we say and I stop to shoot one focused shot of the sunset with the Canon. Ava wraps all her little fingers around my one big finger and we walk up the hill where the security guard is expecting us and the gate is open.
Mickenson walks through the gate and he's ashamed. His head hangs low. He scheduled 4:30 and nearly an hour later he walks in. Grace, grace. His public transportation puts him here late. It's the one moment in the day I love that in Haiti I had no where to go, nothing it really messes up and very little that I hold against him for his tardiness. He comes with good news that Jasmine has accepted a job offer and will start right away. He pulls his guitar out and Lilly, hers and they start right up in the breezeway where they can gather the most light at dusk. The inside of the house gets dark quick without electricity and I still don't know what no electricity in the house is really like. They play the chords and fight mosquitos. I challenge Lilly because she seems shy and reserved but he wants her to sing. His voice is a gift and one that stops those who are within earshot of it.
Mickie cries out, "where is my ice?" I don't know. It's not long before the mystery is solved. Meresse took it. A bag of ice right out of the freezer. Security knows. They see almost everything around the clock. And like that, it's gone. No name written on it, no chain to hold it in the freezer. Lots that just grows legs and walks right out the door. Just lately I noticed a little girl on the hill wearing an outfit right out of the drawers in our house. Our drawers to the washing machine to line dry to another child. Just about everything here walks ... right out the front door. Sometimes I think I need to do the same thing ... walk right out the door... Catch a break.
The girls are excited when we tell them we're headed into Port Au Prince tomorrow. My little one starts to cry a little bit over a car ride in on bumpy roads that she already anticipates and the carsickness that ensues. We talk about our upcoming plans for a little Thanksgiving vacation and then a long stint in the States. The timeliness is impeccable. The week has been a weary one. Large tarantulas. Hard realities. Teary conversations. Long nights. A lot of bumps in the roads.
But some funny moments too. Like when Ava was praying the other night for Gran'Mary and as she said "we pray Gran'Mary feels better," she pops her head up and says, "mama, what's wrong with her again?" and I can only laugh. Or today after I read a book to her regarding treasures I lean over and ask her, "Do you know who my treasures are?" and she points to herself with a sheepish grin. Then says Lilly. I ask, "Who else?" (thinking she'll say Papi) but instead she says, "oh and Bailey." I never know what's coming out of her mouth next! This was the same day she wet her pants sometime in the night and came in to our room and said she had sweaty panties and that it sure was hot that night. Other than her soaked underwear she was completely dry but not convinced!
She wrote on the wall this morning and told me she didn't. I had already given her soap to wash her mouth out earlier in the week and she said it tasted good so she lied to eat more soap. Running out of leverage here. Back to the growing weary part.
We are excited to go to the beach this week and see friends but we can't totally ignore the holidays happening back in the world of fall, football and turkey. As our families gather around the table we pray for our own giving thanks on hot, sandy beaches around our own little table (of Haitian food). Mom says she already has a turkey for when Charles gets there. We have so much to be thankful for that we spend so little time thinking of what we don't have. There's no mental space for that. It's non negotiable in this place to fill up the mind with whatever is pure, trustworthy, excellent, etc. Paul says it well. So we don't give up on doing good... We just keep doing good and know that there is a point at which God will show us a reaping of the harvest.
I'm not finished with this post, but my eyes are and it will have to be continued tomorrow.
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