A silly story.

Just a silly story that will (hopefully) put a smile on your face.

As I mentioned in my last post, I have a constant stream of kids coming to me after school. "Miss Kristen, staple this!" "Miss Kristen, I need a band-aid!" "Miss Kristen, lend me a pencil!" "Miss Kristen, I want to do my homework in your room!" "Miss Kristen!" Miss Kristen!" "Miss Kristen!"

I love these children. I do, with all my heart. But I have to tell you, this gets exasperating.

Our story takes place after school, with the typical gaggle of children elbowing their way into my personal space. (Did I mention I love them? Because I do.) I'm listening to one of them explain what he needs from me, when, from out of nowhere, one of the others reaches up and, I kid you not, whacks me on the forehead with his notebook. Not sure whether to laugh or be horrified, I looked at him in shock. As did the other kids. One of the older students even proceeded to chastise him for his unprovoked behavior.

At this, he shrunk back a little bit and looked around shyly. And all he said was...

"There was a mosquito."




So, a big thank you is owed to my small friend who rescued me from what probably was a vile, malaria-carrying creature. Hero of the day, everybody!

Here's my little hero at our end-of-summer beach trip (sorry, it's the most recent photo I've got). 

This picture cracks me up every time...what a goofball!

I'm dreaming of my Christmas break!

It is a rainy Sunday morning, and I confess, I am not at church. I've been fighting a cold, and though I only have eleven (!) days until I go home, they are a very full, potentially stress-filled 11 days, and I'm not particularly eager to add sickness to that mix. And so I chose this morning to get a little extra sleep and then worship from home.

I've got lots of thoughts swirling around in my head, stuff that I'd like to fill you in on and stories I'd like to share, and so I will apologize in advance that this post will not be particularly cohesive. But here are the thoughts, in bullet point format, for your reading pleasure:

• I just downloaded and listened to last week's sermon from the church I attended in college, Church of the Resurrection in Wheaton, IL. The speaker observed that last week was the last Sunday of the liturgical year, and that Advent marks the beginning of a new church year. I love the intentionality that comes with certain seasons of the church calendar, particularly Lent and Advent. Haiti is not exactly the ho-ho-ho-full-of-Christmas-cheeriest of places, and so if I want some Christmas spirit around here, I've got to bring it myself. Christmas music playing, pine-scented candle burning, trying not to sweat as I watch Elf and drink hot cocoa :). But Advent encourages intentionality in my spiritual preparedness for Christmas, both looking back to the first coming of Christ, and looking forward with anticipation to His second coming. For we know that the whole creation has been groaning together in the pains of childbirth until now. And not only the creation, but we ourselves, who have the firstfruits of the Spirit, groan inwardly as we wait eagerly for adoption as sons, the redemption of our bodies. For in this hope we were saved. Now hope that is seen is not hope. For who hopes for what he sees? But if we hope for what we do not see, we wait for it with patience. (Romans 8: 22-25) I love that. Waiting with patience and hope for adoption as sons and the redemption of our bodies, and indeed the whole world, at Christ's coming.

• School has been going SO much better, and I heartily thank those of you who have been praying about that. There are still daily challenges, but I'm seeing marked progress in my students and am feeling reassured that yes, this is in fact where I have been placed and where I'm supposed to be. But if I can confess something to you, I will tell you frankly that I am TIRED. I'm ready for a break from long days of lesson planning, lesson delivering, tutoring, and students who really try my patience. But in reading through Mark's Gospel (where I've been lately), I stumbled upon something that really surprised me. All over the place, Jesus is healing people and performing miracles, and he consistently tells the recipients, "Tell no one" or "Go home but do not enter the village". I've always wondered about that - why wouldn't Jesus want people to shout from the rooftops that He was the Messiah? But this week it occurred to me: brother was TIRED! People were badgering him, all the time all the time all the time, to heal them, speak to them, provide for them. I'm not suggesting that this was the only reason he wanted them to stay hush-hush, but I felt myself understanding, soul-deep, a certain measure of what he was feeling. But inevitably, the people do go and tell - they want everyone to know that they were blind and now they see, they were sick and now they're well. And that, inevitably, leads to a large crowd of people, pressing in on Jesus, begging him to help them. I feel stressed just thinking about that, and I almost want him to yell, "NO! Just no. Go away and leave me alone for awhile! Maybe next week you can come, but right now, just...no." But he never does. He always welcomes them, he always listens to them, he always makes time for them. That was the challenge to me - I'd like to yell at the constant stream of kids who come to me after school, ostensibly needing pencils, paper, a staple or two (but really just wanting to be loved...) and preventing me from getting anything accomplished ever, to just leave me alone for awhile! I've said to God, "I'm just too tired! I can't deal with it anymore, so please don't ask me to!" and He has basically said to me, "Right. I know you can't deal with it on your own strength, but will you accept it with My strength, which is sufficient for you and made perfect in weakness?" I won't lie, I don't want to. I want to close and lock my door and keep all that crazy out. And sometimes I do, out of necessity (otherwise I really would not EVER get anything accomplished). But will I allow my attitude to be one of invitation, of receiving these children, despite my tiredness and frustration? Only in His strength.

• And finally, I just have to tell you about the Christmasy things I'm dreaming about, dreams that will hopefully be a reality in 11 days or so: A Starbucks Peppermint mocha (in a Christmas cup). Wearing sweaters and scarves. Taking an unnecessary number of hot showers and baths. Putting up and decorating a Christmas tree (I'm thinking, like, the night that I get home. Mom? Dad? Can we arrange this?). Sitting by said glowy Christmas tree in the early morning. And undoubtedly at the top of the list, spending sweet time with loved ones, particularly my wonderful nephew and brand-new (so new I haven't met her yet!) niece! Yes, I am definitely ready to get this Christmas show on the road. Christmas break, please come quick but pass by slowly :).

Thanks for putting up with this long, weird, pictureless post. I'll try to work on getting you some pictures in the near future! In the meantime, a happy and meaningful Advent season to you!

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.

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.

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.

The only place I can love Him.

Tomorrow morning starts a new school week. And I fight an inner battle.

The first party fights for the right to believe that this could be a really good week. A great week. A grace-filled week.

The other party has already been convinced that this is another week I'll spend stressed, feeling like a bad teacher, questioning why I ever thought I could do this job.

School has been in session for a few weeks now, and I would be lying if I told you it has been anything but a rollercoaster. I have good moments, good class periods, times when I'm confident my students walked away from class having learned something they needed to know. Then there are times that I feel like a horrible teacher - lessons don't go as planned, I don't communicate well with my other teachers, kids are out of control and I just want to yell and scream or crumple into a heap and cry.

And of course the Enemy (Scripture calls him the Deceiver for good reason!) tricks me into forgetting about all the good and triumphant moments, the moments where God met me in my weakness and proved to me again that he is strong and he is able, and instead dwelling on my failures, my inconsistencies, my inability to measure up (admittedly, to my own, probably unreasonable, standard).

I've heard that this is par for the course for a first-year teacher, and that gives me some comfort. And I try to remind myself that being a first-year teacher in my second language is challenge upon challenge, thereby necessitating grace upon grace (God's grace to me, and mine to myself!).

This girl. A stinker, but I love her SO much :).

I've been working through a book for the past several weeks, and though I'm not yet even halfway through, I highly recommend it. The first 86 pages of my copy are marked up with underlines and notes and ways that God has spoken to me through it. The book, One Thousand Gifts, by Ann Voskamp, chronicles the writer's journey as she learns to cultivate thankfulness, recognizing it as an essential discipline of the believer in Christ.

I want to share two passages from this book that have spoken truth to me in the past week - God used them to speak to me in my weariness and discouragement, to remind me what it is He has called me to.

Here is the first:

How does it save the world to reject unabashed joy when it is joy that saves us? Rejecting joy to stand in solidarity with the suffering doesn't rescue the suffering. The converse does. The brave who focus on all things good and all things beautiful and all things true, even in the small, who give thanks for it and discover joy even in the here and now, they are the change agents who bring fullest Light to all the world. When we lay the soil of our hard lives open to the rain of grace and let joy penetrate our cracked and dry places, let joy soak into our broken skin and deep crevices, life grows. How can this not be the best thing for the world? For us? The clouds open when we mouth thanks.

I think that one pretty much speaks for itself. Here is the other one:

Here is the only place I can love Him.

Well, if that didn't knock me on my butt. Do you know how much time I spend dwelling on the past and worrying about the future? Too much. Waaay too much. But I can't love Him back there. And I can't love Him up ahead. I can only love Him now, and here. That has been a great reminder for me because, funny thing, you can't dwell on how terrible yesterday's math class was or think about how you're going to be inadequate with your first graders tomorrow when you're focused on this moment, and loving God in it.

That was last week's challenge, and it will be this week's too. I challenge you to it as well.

And also, please keep me in your prayers. I find it so easy to get discouraged, and weary. Pray that the Holy Spirit would minister grace to me, and that I would receive it willingly. Pray for successes and for eyes to see what my purpose here truly is. Pray for the ability to love God and love children now, in this moment.

Thankful for each of you! Be blessed, and enjoy something autumn-y for me this week :).

Love,
Kristen

Clean!

One of my favorite moments in my daily routine comes at the end of the day, just before bed, when I step into the shower.

It is still quite hot here (I weep inside a little at all the facebook statuses and blog posts about fall foliage and bonfires and warm beverages), and between the moment I get up in the morning and the moment my head hits the pillow at night (and sometimes even after that…) a LOT of sweating happens. So picture me, hanging out, sweating…and then compound that with all the sweaty kids in my class. Because they sweat just like I do, and then they go out and run around like banshees during recess. And then they bring all that sweaty stinkiness into my classroom. Suffice it to say that by the end of the school day, I usually smell pretty ripe. (Sorry if that’s a little too real for you!)

I get home from school around 3, but I don’t want to get my shower until bedtime, mostly so that it cools my body temperature down to help me fall asleep. That means I’ve got another 8 solid hours of smelliness – not cool. So, by the time I’m ready for my shower, I am more than ready to be clean. There’s the initial shock of the cool-going-on-cold water when I first get in, but that quickly turns to delight. The cool water feels good on my hot, sticky skin, and amazingly enough, in a few short minutes I have gone from smelling gross to smelling like shampoo and strawberry body wash. A nice exchange if you ask me.

It struck me today in the shower that this is a great metaphor for what Christ did for us. I know, it sounds trite and overused, and technically isn’t really a metaphor. Because I know him as Savior, Christ did actually “wash” me with his blood. But hear me out: showering in the States, at least for me, is not a hugely transformative thing. Unless I’ve just had a crazy workout, I’m not usually that smelly when I get in the shower. Here in Haiti, I’m gross, every day without fail. But by the time I step out of the shower, all of that putrescence is washed away. There’s a huge change in how I look, smell, and feel.

Washing is not a huge deal if you’re not that dirty. But when you’re as dirty as I get every day, it is a total transformation. Spiritually speaking, before I knew Christ, I was filthy. Gross. Not fit for anyone’s company. Even today, though I’ve trusted Christ, I’m still jacked up and sinful. I can be prideful and petty. I’m bad at trusting God to provide the things I need. But he gently and faithfully washes me clean with his grace and love.

[Neither] thieves, nor the greedy, nor drunkards, nor revilers, nor swindlers will inherit the kingdom of God.  And such were some of you. But you were washed, you were sanctified, you were justified in the name of the Lord Jesus Christ and by the Spirit of our God. – 1 Cor. 6: 10-12

Thanks be to God for His precious gift.

A pair of ducks.

Whoa, it has been a shockingly, embarrassingly long time since I posted. Um, sorry? It's one of my goals for this school year to be better at communicating and staying in touch. So I'm officially sending that goal into the blogosphere so that you, kind readers, can hold me accountable.

Great, now that that business is taken care of...what the heck have I been up to? More than I can tell you about in a blog post, I assure you. And really, though I should update you on all the news (which I'll try to do in the near future), that's not what I'm thinking about tonight.

Tonight I'm thinking about paradox. Or, as the kids at the missionary training I attended almost a year ago learned, a pair of ducks. The ducks were named Yay and Yuck, and were designed to teach the kids about how it's very possible to have very conflicting emotions about the same event.

The event is leaving America and returning to Haiti. I was supposed to return to Haiti last Thursday, but postponed that flight due to Tropical Storm Isaac. I had spent several days running around like a crazy person, doing last-minute errands, packing, squeezing in time with as many beloved people as possible. My heart wasn't quite ready to leave.

One of many faces I'm sad to leave behind.

Then, all of a sudden, I was leaving a full five days later...and my heart changed. I was grateful for extra days with family and friends, but I was ready to be back, ready to see people I love in Haiti, ready to jump into my job with enthusiasm. I was feeling that way until, oh, 8:00 this morning. Then it was a tennis match of "I'm not ready to leave everyone" and "But I'm ready to get back and see my kids and my friends". Back and forth, back and forth.

I feel a certain peace and reassurance about being back in Haiti. But the actions required between now and then -  the saying goodbye to loved ones, the weariness of travel, the thoughts of all the people (and things...I won't lie, I have LOVED taking hot showers over the past month!!) I'm leaving behind - just seem hard. I would just as soon not have to deal with those things. But I trust that the peace of God, which passes all understanding, will guard my heart and my mind in Christ Jesus (Phil. 4:7).

Some of the faces I'm ready to get back to!

So here's to the ducks, and to acknowledging that it's okay to experience conflicting emotions. Here's to a month at home that I will treasure in my heart for all the sweet time spent with wonderful people who I love SO much. And here's to the months ahead, the new things that God has in store.

God is God, God is good, and God is faithful.

Are you my mother?

I went to a funeral today. The mother of one of our house dads passed away, so his family, plus a few other members of the Kids Alive ministry (myself included) traveled to a neighboring town for the service.

A funeral is one of those cultural things that has unspoken rules. I had been to one Haitian funeral prior to this one, but was with a large group. So when I was uncertain about what to do, I just followed the herd. This time around was a bit different- the service was different from the last one, and there weren’t nearly as many in our group. I couldn’t just slide in somewhere and hope to go with the flow (as if I could “slide in” unnoticed anywhere in this country- the lone white girl in a crowd of Haitians does not have the privilege of being inconspicuous!).

Enter Michaelle, one of our house moms. I’ve liked her from day one, but prior to today, I hadn’t had much one-on-one interaction with her. I’ve had “bonding moments” with many of our houseparents- like the time Philip and I wrangled 120-some Haitian children who really wanted balloon animals that a short term team was making, and really didn’t want to wait in line. Or the time I translated a song for Nannie, so that she could learn it in English.  Or my fist bump-handshake-whatever-thing with George.

That's Michaelle in the middle. Celamise is on the left, Herline on the right.

Anyway, back to Michaelle. I don’t know if I had awkward written all over my face (a distinct possibility, frankly), or if she just had the insight that this was a new experience for me and I could use some help, but she gently and sweetly guided me through the process, thus preventing the conspicuous white girl from making any embarrassing mistakes.

At the end of the service, she gave me a heads-up to wait until certain people had left before standing to go. As we started the post-ceremony processional to the cemetery, she said in my ear, referring to my rather tall high heels, “We’re going to be walking for awhile. Are you sure you can make it in those shoes?” I smiled and told her I thought I could. When the jostle of the crowd caused me to end up a few steps in front of her, she grabbed my hand and held it, an instinctively motherly, and also very Haitian, gesture.

             (Side note: Hand-holding is one of my favorite parts of Haitian culture. Women with women, men with men, men with women…doesn’t matter. If you’re friends, you can hold hands. If you have any positive feeling whatsoever toward a person, it is perfectly acceptable to “kenbe men” (hold their hand). I very much give and receive love by way of physical touch, so my Haitian brothers and sisters are totally speaking my language with this gesture! I love it.)

I’ve been thinking about these interactions since they happened. Under many circumstances I would balk at the help. My stubborn, proud thought processes tend to travel the path of, I’m an adult and a capable woman. I don’t need extra help, and I don’t need to be mothered. Here’s the thing, though. Sometimes I DO need to be mothered. And all the time I DO need to know that I’m loved, cared for, watched over. The Holy Spirit has been doing that work in me- softening me to the point that I can admit my need to be cared for, and filling me with the knowledge that he is that provider, caregiver, lover of my soul.

Sometimes, he chooses to use people to manifest that truth to me, and it is pure gift. In reality, I probably would have made it through okay without Michaelle’s help. I might have made a few mistakes, and I would have been 100 times more awkward, but it would have turned out okay. But this day, this experience with Michaelle, was a gift from my Father.

The Kingdom of Heaven is like… a lot of things. Today it was like a mother caring for a daughter. 


No, even more than that, like a Haitian mother caring for an American daughter. Odd? Maybe, to my small, finite brain. But very, very beautiful indeed.

This one's for the girls.

I’ve been following Rachel Held Evans’ series on egalitarianism- what she has dubbed the Week of Mutuality- in the past week, over on her blog (http://rachelheldevans.com).

But before you stop reading, or cheer, or slam your computer shut angrily, or say “egali-what?”, hear me out: This post is not about egalitarianism. Or complementarianism. Or whether one or the other is right or wrong. There are people on both sides of the debate who have my friendship and respect, and while I may be a pot-stirrer sometimes, this is not the time or place. If you want to know my thoughts on egalitarianism and complementarianism (flexible and still-being-worked-out though they may be), we can have that conversation some other time.

No, what I want to say, what I’ve been inspired to say, as a result of following this blog and other related posts is this: Women, girls, listen to me- you have a place in the church. And it is beautiful, and it is valuable. And you should not let anyone, ever, convince you otherwise.

You are called to ministry every bit as much as your male counterparts are. Will it look the same? Maybe, maybe not. But you are a daughter of God and a co-heir with Christ, just as he is a son of God and co-heir with Christ. You are the salt and light of the earth, a branch of the true Vine, one chosen and appointed to bear fruit. You are a minister of reconciliation and the temple of God. Sisters, these things are already true of you (credit due here to Dr. Neil Anderson)! And whether you are a mother, a wife, a single woman, a homemaker, a working woman, whatever- you belong in the Body of Christ, and indeed, you have a crucial role to play.

Whether it’s to your husband and children, to your friends, co-workers, teammates, or to your specific church body, you have the privilege of bearing witness each day to the resurrected Christ. Who was the first person Christ revealed his resurrected self to, the first person charged with sharing the earth-shattering news? It was Mary Magdalene (see John chapter 20)- a woman, and a sin-stained woman at that. I sense God’s tenderness as he chose to bestow upon her that precious gift. Women of God, that legacy is ours! As she bore witness, so do we, every single day.

I beg you to study God’s Word, to know it, to have it be part of your very being. I am on this road- not always good at studying the Word, but hungry for it, longing to know it better, aching for it to shape my thoughts, words, and actions. If you’re not hungry for it, ask him to make you so, and I believe he will faithfully answer.

I think maybe it’s easy for us to sit back and be a little lazy, not really feeling the full weight of responsibility that is ours as his witnesses. We sometimes think that our church's stance on male leadership in the church is our get out of jail free card. Single women, we often (instead of being equipped by the church to serve God with strength and diginity) get nice pats on the shoulder from church people, telling us that one day our time will come. I say no! My time is now! Service to God does not require a ring on my finger or a man by my side. Would that be nice? Heaven knows, yes. But it is not a requirement.

I love Joel chapter two, verse 28: And it shall come to pass afterward, that I will pour out my Spirit on all flesh; your sons and your daughters shall prophesy, your old men shall dream dreams, and your young men shall see visons. That Spirit has already been poured out. So daughters, prophesy. Prophesy and bear witness, in whatever way God calls you.

That is your heritage. Own it.

A delightfully normal day. (+ pigs!)

Lest you think I have more bad days than good, I wanted to share highlights of today with you. A good day, on all accounts.

First of all, the school year is winding down, and today was my last day with kindergarten for the school year. They each got a certificate saying "____________ is an English STAR!" They were pretty stoked.

They're a handful and a half, but I love 'em!

I still have one more session with second grade, but we snapped our class photo today too. These kiddos too- total goofballs.

Personality x 10!

After school my roommate and I stopped at a friend's house to return something we had borrowed. This exchange was a reminder of why life in Haiti is good- absolutely lovely, sweet people with generous hearts.

Then tonight after dinner (avocado BLTs...super-delicious) we went to our friend Adeline's house because she had informed us earlier in the day that the pig living by her house had just had babies! 

Now. If we're friends, you probably know that I'm a big fan of farm animals. As in, I really really love them. And I especially love pigs, because they're always smiling! Yeah, I know, they're dirty, diseased, all that. Whatever. They're still cute.

Once Adeline told us that the piglets had been born, I was determined to see them and hold at least one. Adeline had told us months ago that this pig was pregnant, and I had informed her that she needed to let me know when the babies arrived. (I'm telling you, I'm serious about this!) So after dinner we jumped in the car, on a mission to hug some piglets. The photos below (taken by Teri) successfully capture the ensuing events.

The anticipation!

Heeeere, piggy piggy piggy... 

(My friend Toto is a champ, and grudgingly obliged when I said "Toto, catch one!")

We're going in!

Win!

(At this point, I'm so excited that I'm flapping, and Toto is thinking Oh. my. word. I can't believe I'm doing this.)

Uhh...really excited.

I'm aware that we look like proud mama and papa with our piglet-child. I don't think Toto wanted to be in the picture, but we made him. He played a starring role in this adventure!

So there you have it, a really good day that reminded me of many things I love about this place. My God is so good to bless me with such sweet, unexpected gifts! I hope that you've seen and recognized joy in this day as well.

On behaving like a Christian in Haiti...and how sometimes I'm bad at it.

I would like to ask you, if you put missionaries on some sort of super-spiritual pedestal, to please stop. While I can’t speak for the majority, I can personally attest to my own daily screw-ups, and I think my friends who live and work here would also agree that the lives and actions of missionaries are far from perfect.

Take Saturday, for example. Market day. It takes a fair amount of time and energy to drive into town and enter the push-your-way-through, don’t-step-in-that-hole, watch-out-for-that-wheelbarrow-full-of-raw-meat shopping experience that is the Cap Haitien Open Market. But there are good things- the vendors who know us well and smile when they see us coming, the shock and surprise of people when I respond to their “eh, blan, ou pale kreyòl?” (Hey white girl, you speak Creole?) , and the excitement of finding new, delicious things in the market (lately, mangoes, cherries, and for the first time this week, spinach!). Overall it’s not my favorite, but normally it comes and goes without much to-do.

found this image at: http://agrarianideas.blogspot.com/2011/07/gregs-haitian-adventure-part-6-markets.html

This past Saturday, however, was extra-overwhelming, for reasons I can’t really explain- and I turned into missionary-zilla. One of the wheelbarrow pushers, who stop for no man and don’t really look where they’re going, charged right into my path and barreled into me before I had a chance to jump out of the way. I moved to the side, he acted irritated and shouted at me to ‘ale’ (go). With people on either side of me and his wheelbarrow hemming me in, ‘ale’-ing was not really a possibility. So I told him so, in Creole, in a not-very-nice tone. Then I stepped in a puddle of the virtually-ubiquitous sludge, which I try hard to avoid. Thinking about the raw sewage that was likely hanging out on the bottom of my flip-flopped foot didn’t make me much happier. Then we went in search of a fan, a much-needed appliance for hot Haitian summers. Between running into problems at the first place we went to, getting a serious ripoff of a price at the second place, and the incessant choruses of “eh, blan!” “Give me one dollar!” and “Blan, ban m yon ti kòb” (give me a little money), I had had enough. With an irritated expression on my face, I told the lady who was loudly asking me for “yon ti kòb” (again, in a not-very-nice tone of voice) that I didn’t have any kòb for her.

found this image at: http://www.traveladventures.org/continents/southamerica/cap-haitien-streetlife14.shtml

My Haitian friend Toto, who was helping us with the fan-shopping process, knew that I was in a bad mood and tried to make me smile by cracking some jokes. A good-hearted gesture, but I would have none of it. I shot him a look and kept walking.

Also, I should mention, this past Saturday was the first time I had decided to conquer the challenge of driving in town. Driving outside of town is no big deal for me, but in town is a whole different story. You’re dodging tons of people, watching for holes in the road, squeezing through tight spaces, trying not to hit the ubiquitous motos that whiz past you on the left and the right. Driving outside of town is kind of like that too…but in town the experience is on steroids. Everything had gone well for the most part, until after the whole fan-buying fiasco. We were almost done with our market adventure for the day, and I was trying to put my bad mood out of my head and focus on driving. I was watching the road ahead, motos, pedestrians, frequently checking my rear view…but was not watching how close I was to vehicles parked on the side of the road. All of a sudden I heard a loud noise on my right- the sound of my side mirror swiping a parked truck. As my roommate rolled down the window and attempted to readjust it, the mirror part fell off of the arm that was attached to the car. Big, fat, ugly tears started sliding down my cheeks. When we got to our destination, I parked the car and proclaimed that I was done. Teri graciously got into the driver’s seat and did the rest of the driving.

Why do I tell you all of this? Not because I’m proud of it. I’m ashamed of my behavior and my attitude, not to mention my driving snafu. But last Saturday was a reminder to me that I’m a sinner and a broken, imperfect person. MTI friends, it was a “twang” kind of day. But it reminded me that, praise God, grace is abundant and freely given. I’m still learning how to accept that grace, and let me tell you, Haiti is an excellent place to learn that lesson.

But this I call to mind,

and therefore I have hope:

The steadfast love of the Lord never ceases;

his mercies never come to an end;

they are new every morning;

great is your faithfulness.

There will come a day.

I was sitting on my bed in front of my computer today, iTunes pulled up, listening to my worship playlist. I was having one of those rough “I miss my friends and family” moments, wishing I could see you and be with you all, even just for a short while. The song that came up on my playlist was a song about Heaven (We Will Dance- you Wheaton-folk know it well…), and I was completely overwhelmed by the fact that there will come a day when we will all (for those who know my precious Jesus) be together, worshiping Him unceasingly. The beauty of that picture brought me to tears. I may be separated from you all now, but one day we will be together, standing before the throne of our perfect Brother and King. And we’ll be joined by members of my wonderful new Haitian family. How I long for that day!

N.B. – I don’t pretend or assume that all of you who read this blog believe the same things or feel the same way I do about Jesus. I believe that He is the way to God the Father, and that each of us needs a relationship with Him. This belief shapes my life- what I do, how I act, the decisions I make. If you don’t believe this, or if you just don’t get it, I’d love to dialogue with you about it. I’m not going to fight with you, and I’m not going to try to shove it down your throat. But if you want to talk, let’s talk. Get in touch with me on facebook or email, or leave me a comment and I’ll get in touch with you.

For now, I see Heaven on these faces!

Sabbath Reflections.

I’ve been thinking hard lately about Sabbath rest. Coming into this adventure, I wanted to be really intentional about safeguarding my Sabbath- taking time for rest and being with my Lord. But when you’ve got 40ish hours of work to do in a week, along with laundry, cooking, cleaning, grocery shopping, helping host short-term teams when they’re here, and you compound all that with the fact that we're not supposed to be out after dark taking care of errands and such…it makes finding a day for such rest tricky, if not virtually impossible.

Yet God commanded us to a Sabbath of rest. So I’m stuck, trying to figure out what exactly I’m going to do. In the States, it seems that everyone’s over-worked, over-stressed state of affairs is a product of pride and the need to be better and work harder than the Joneses. Here, it’s more an issue of simple math- there aren’t enough daylight hours in the day/week. And for many Haitians, who barely make enough money to eke by, any hour when they can be making money is an hour not to be wasted on frivolous things like rest.

It’s such an interesting paradox: Haiti is a slow culture, but often by necessity and not by choice- we don’t have the means to make things run more efficiently, so we resign ourselves to waiting for things to happen. Yet the culture of busyness that I know from life at home (always-working-never-stopping-advance-advance-advance) is alive and well. What to do?

I get frustrated with these things- both for my own life and on behalf of the Haitian people, particularly those that I know and care about. I see how hard they work and how often they work, and I tend to project my own weariness onto them. But in the midst of this, I am still struck daily by the beauty in this country. Everywhere we go, sweet children wave as we pass by (our whiteness makes us a novelty, and if we wave back, they are delighted). When we drive through the village where our school is located, the community kids who attend the Kids Alive school will run alongside our car, or wave and shout our names. Haitian friends will come over to our house after a 12+ hour workday to help us change a flat tire. We’ve been in Haiti long enough that hardly a day passes when we don’t see someone we know on the road, either driving or walking. Honking, waving, stopping the car in the middle of the street to have a chat or let a friend hop in- all of the above happens on a regular basis. And it boils down to the fact that I feel like I’m part of a family here- loved, accepted, welcomed. In this way, Haitians do the Kingdom of God much better than we North Americans. Would that we could take a page out of their book! 

A big part of what makes Haiti so wonderful. I mean, come on. Look at these faces!

Sniff, sniff, sniff...

Do you hear that noise? It's the crying and snuffling of my poor, sad, neglected little blog.

It’s been well over a month since I last wrote, and that wasn’t even a real post. Ouch. 

My apologies to you, dear blog and dear readers.

I was in conflict regarding whether to give you a “life in Haiti” post or a “what’s going on in my heart these days” post- because, believe me, there’s plenty to say in both departments. I think I’ve decided on a little blog-series over the next few days. Going from absentee blogger to over-enthusiastic blogger…how d’you like them apples? 

Today, we'll start with the news. (Coming to you live from Cap Haitien...)

The most recent “big news” is that I started teaching my English classes last week- with success, by God’s grace! It’s been affirming to really jump into the work that I came here to do and find that God has equipped me to do it! As usual, it’s one of those things I should have known, but I had no problems coming up with reasons to fret- what if the kids don’t understand my Creole, what if I can’t understand them, what if what if what if…

What if God really, actually has called me to Haiti to do a job for His glory and has equipped me to do it? (Well all right, then.)

Other big news for Kids Alive Haiti:

1. We got our bus painted! Before, it was plain-jane yellow, and now have a look at this beauty.

    Pretty cool, huh? I think it gives everyone in the ministry a sense of pride to have this sweet ride pull up to their house. (And, from a utilitarian standpoint, it’s a lot easier to know when it’s our bus coming and not one of the other fifty-thousand-million buses in Cap Haitien…though our rockstar bus driver, Tilou, usually honks the horn loud enough for you all to hear it on the other side of the ocean.)

  2. We’ve had several short-term teams here recently, and they’ve made fantastic progress on our Children’s Village site. For those who don’t know about our new Children’s Village: We’re in the process of constructing a compound that will house all of our ministry families, our director and his family, and several independence homes for our kids that finish high school and are preparing to transition out of Kids Alive. Currently we rent homes all over town, but when this project is complete, we will own the land and the homes, and will be able to control things like water and electricity. It is SO exciting to see this take shape, not only for me, but for our kids as well. We pass the site on the way to school, and our bus usually stops to drop off some of the construction workers. When the gate is open, the kids press their noses against the windows and ooh and aah over their soon-to-be new home.

one of our close-to-finished houses

a skeleton- our last team put up these panels in one day!

So there's your news update. Tune in again soon (I can't promise for tomorrow, but I'll try!) for more!