A Year and A Day

Our dear Mickenson and Jasmine

So glad to see these faces! These are pillowcases mom and I monogrammed. It struck me that only days later when they said they weren't using their pillowcases I found out they didn't have pillows. 

Ava and Joslyn! Best buddies

Putting in irrigation in the orphanage garden

Laundry day!

Lilly and her friends!

Doctor playing doctor with Guelson

An avocado lunch ... (next to Lilly's hand)!!

Our big back yard all grown up ...  papayas everywhere!

Valentine's Day party!!! 

Glad to be back at children's church with all 50 little ones in a tight space!

Fans back on and all of us sigh with relief ... the relief that comes with prior attempts to turn on a fan, a light, a blender, etc. when we are out of the habit of no electricity. I got soapy in the shower just in time for the water to disappear and stand there in a moment of sheer silence with birds chirping and soap running down my back but no water to wash it off. It's not the first time nor is it surprising. I just forgot it happens.

We're BACK! The last week has been a week of unpacking and readjusting. To my surprise, Ava has been the sheepish one, tucking her head into my chest when those who love her are bursting with excitement to see her smile. It has been every bit as great as I thought to return and more. When we arrived Wednesday night we were met by the team. A topsy turvy to the usual. I embraced what seemed like a skeleton of bones but the biggest heart when I hugged Julienne, our close friend who has been watching over our house for the last two months and who serves us daily. We distributed gifts throughout the last few days and rediscovered our love for Haiti all over again. 

The farmer spent the better part of the week with his hands in the dirt and reapplying sunscreen. Another farmer was here and the two talked seeds, irrigation and future dreams of 13 children learning the art of farming over the next couple of decades. 

We welcomed the hot weather and the flip flops just in time to miss a snow in Memphis. I showed Julienne pictures of the Memphis snow today and she said, "pa bon" ... in so many words she said she didn't like snow and I wondered how she knew that. Has she seen snow before? Maybe Haitians know they don't like cold weather and that translates into the assumption that snow would be less than desirable by this warm weathered nation. 

Thursday and Friday were "grace days." A little school, a little re-entry, a little unpacking and a lot of hugging those we haven't seen. The smiles I encountered were priceless and yet I didn't record them except in my mind so I'll have to revisit those smiles in my dreams when I miss them. The girls ran to Haitian friends with such anticipation. Thursday Julienne barely got around to cleaning, she was so busy staring at the girls and absorbing their presence it gave me joy. 

Those hugs started at the airport. As we walked out into the chaos of the sea of dark unknown faces, Lilly caught sight of a familiar one and then she shrieked with joy and nearly knocked him over with her 30lb of excitement. The 6-foot giant (to them) lifted both girls and carried them to the car without another care in the world. It was cute. Miguelson was the same way. Grown guys melting over two little girls who missed them as much as they were missed. 

I heard Ava playing with her baby doll on the steps, asking, "So where would you like to fly today? We have snacks on the plane." I laughed. What a normal question for her ... 

Saturday the team left at sunrise and the girls got out a variety of pinks and reds to make valentines. The girls made one and called friends to wish them a Happy Valentine's Day. I overheard Ava on the phone with Miguelson saying "Happy Vawentine's Guelson" ... "Luv Lu Anpil" (I love you so much). The day was sprinkled with meetings and then mid-afternoon 13 little ones came for a little Valentine's Day party. Talk about chaos. Scissors, glue, glitter galore. It was wild. Some jumping on the trampoline, others crafting with crayons. Little ones with markers going in any direction but toward the paper. And a Veggie Tales Valentine's movie on the projector. It was a happy sound I've missed. It was a lot of tugging on my shirt and begging me to look and requests for affirmation on a picture drawn. Lilly and Ava were back in their element. Our marked up couch will be a reminder of the fun we had. 

Near the end of the party Mickenson and Jasmine walked in. Another moment in time I wish I could freeze. Lilly and Ava leaped from the couch to run to them. Good friends reunited. Their embrace lasted an extra few seconds. I love seeing that. My girls have unabashedly given to loving those here. We moved here Feb. 17. A year and a day ago. And in that year we have given part of our hearts to those in the community. A love we can never measure. 

The evening with friends included Mickenson playing guitar and singing the girls' favorite Creole songs until they drifted to sleep, a lot of catching up, laughter and tears. It was good for the soul. The kind of filling up that doesn't take shape or get repeated. Sunday afternoon allowed us a little more time around the table to talk heavy heart issues that weren't at the surface Saturday night. We shed tears, prayed, asked God for wisdom together and took them home grateful for time together. A lot of skyping, phone conversations, emails, letters, etc don't take the place of face to face time together. My little blond sat in Mickenson's lap all the way to their house (sorry, the truck was too full for a carseat) and Mickenson had asked, "do you want to go home with us?" to which she quickly nodded. But when we arrived at their gate, they got out and her tears welled up like a crocodile's and she said ... "But I thought I was going with them." And that spoke volumes of love. 

Haiti is still hard. Waiting a turn to wash sweaty clothes, babies dying, church leaders being unfaithful, people within earshot starving but we have missed it. Charles said in church yesterday morning when Mickenson gave him an opportunity to speak, "We missed you. We're glad to be home." 

It felt right in step to unlock the church doors and feel the breeze. Bible study with the women somehow brings them from dark one-room huts to an open space where freedom reigns and conversations abound. I see their faces and they see mine and it's consistent. It's a time of gathering and fellowship. One of them smiles with hands in the air. She says, "look at my fingers and toes, the rats are gone." She prayed for eight years for a house and at the end of 2014, she moved into one. We sang praises and held hands. We also heard from another one who had been killing snakes in her home among her eight children. Now she had heard from a neighbor that snakes like milk so she had considered losing her newborn to refrain from nursing and being overtaken with snakes. But she said one night she was lying in bed and heard an audible voice say, "This is my house and I love you. I will protect you from the enemy." She said she has slept ever since and her three-month old Moses, is as precious as ever. As we bowed our heads, it wasn't all praising. There was mourning too. A sister who is usually at the study was grieving at home instead. She was numb to the loss of a baby she had birthed only 36 hours prior. We walked up the hill to find her in a dark space lying in bed. Her little home cleared out some and the ladies started in singing. She started in on the chorus and lifted her hands to the heavens. I don't know how she could even lift them. I felt numb myself and I am worlds removed from that particular loss. I hurt for her and yet saw a small miracle of watching her sing with her mouth to the only one who can restore her soul and make her whole. Tears flowed only from my eyes. Haitian women are tender on the inside but strong on the outside. Loss is much more common here and moving forward is the only possible direction to go. 

I can't put my finger on how I love it here but it's the Sunday afternoons on the stoop with Ydalia, the sunset behind the mountains, the breeze in the midst of heat, the warmth on their faces, the simplicity. It is breathtaking here. Ava's baby doll apparently responded to Ava and said Haiti because Ava followed with, "ok, well then you can meet my Baldemere, my Alex, my Guelson, my Mickenson and Jasmine, my friends at the orphanage and my home ... "