Sunday, November 18, 2012

You are the first.

I read this quote from Soren Kierkegaard a few weeks ago, and it's been on my mind a lot. I hope it speaks to you as we enter into this Thanksgiving week.

Father in Heaven! You have loved us first, help us never to forget that You are love so that this sure conviction might triumph in our hearts over the seduction of the world, over the inquietude of the soul, over the anxiety for the future, over the fright of the past, over the distress of the moment. But grant also that this conviction might discipline our soul so that our heart might remain faithful and sincere in the love which we bear to all those whom You have commanded us to love as we love ourselves. 

You have loved us first, O God, alas! We speak of it in terms of history as if You have only loved us first but a single time, rather than that without ceasing You have loved us first many times and every day and our whole life through. When we wake up in the morning and turn our soul toward You - You are the first - You have loved us first; if I rise at dawn and at the same second turn my soul toward You in prayer, You are there ahead of me, You have loved me first. When I withdraw from the distractions of the day and turn my soul toward You, You are the first and thus forever. And yet we always speak ungratefully as if You have loved us first only once.

Many times and every day and our whole life through.

Help me to be grateful for such a gift.


Friday, November 9, 2012

In which I gain some perspective on rain.

Today is the third school day in the past three weeks that has been cancelled due to rain. When I find out, inevitably at the last minute (one of the days I was outside, in my raincoat, waiting for the bus, going "...hmmm, these streets sure are empty!" when my roommate came outside and yelled at me from the porch to come back inside), here are the thoughts that run through my head, generally in this order:

a) This is ridiculous! It's RAIN! Since when did a little rain ever keep anyone from going to school?!?

b) Yeahhhh!!!! Bring on the comfy pants/reading-for-fun/movie-watching!

So this morning I got up, forced myself into the shower (the weather is FINALLY cooling down, which is great, but it makes that cold shower a rough one), and went about my normal routine. I was doing my quiet time and drinking my coffee when I got the call from my friend Toto: no school. So I asked him, "Toto, why?!? Why no school?"
He responded like I was maybe a bit of an idiot. "Kristen, there's so much rain!"
"Yeah, but it's just rain! Just water. That's all it is."
"But there's tons of it in the streets. Someone's house collapsed. Someone died."

Oh.

Well that has a way of sobering you up.

It's not like I didn't know that rain can be really troublesome around here. Last night as it was pouring, I  said a prayer for the community (non-residential) children in our program. Some of them live in houses made of cement, but others live in stick-and-mud houses. Some of them probably have very leaky roofs. Staying warm and dry is undoubtedly a challenge.

A look at the rain from my porch


And I knew that there had been a spike in cholera cases in Haiti post-Sandy. It's likely there will be even more cases as a result of this deluge. Not to mention that our community kids in their cement houses have it great compared to the thousands of people still living in tents in Port au Prince post-earthquake.

Yet here I sit, warm and dry and comfortable in my apartment. I thought about trying to go out to the area where our community kids live, but even if I could get out there, what could I do for them?

So I'm praying. It doesn't seem like very much, but it's important. And I guess I wanted you all to know too, so you could pray - for our community kids, for Cap Haitien, for Haiti. For the rain to stop. For no more lives lost, no more houses destroyed, no more cholera.



The Creole word for misery or suffering is traka. People around here often say, Gen anpil traka nan peyi a (there is much suffering in this country) - they talk about it so matter-of-factly. It's just part of life.

Which is kind of heartbreaking. And yet, also a testament to the spirit and determination of these people. They know it, they accept it, they deal with it the best they can.

So please pray for relief from the rain, for God's Spirit to descend on Haiti, and for Him to reveal to me how I can best respond to all the suffering. I can't fix it all, but I can't ignore it either.

Thank you for praying. Lord, have mercy on Haiti.

Wednesday, November 7, 2012

A proud teacher moment.

It's exam week.

A fretful time for a new teacher, right?

Well I am proud and happy to report that, after grading my 2nd grade math exams (for my learning support students), the principal and I looked at the grades and decided, "This one doesn't need learning support anymore. Neither does this one, neither does this one." That's right, three of my kids are going back to regular ed math! They can handle the work!

This is NOT me saying I had anything to do with it. These kids have been capable all along. But it sure felt good to look at their scores today and say, "Why, look at these bright kids!"

Maybe I'm working myself out of a job, but it sure feels good. This girl is a proud teacher today.