Avoiding Jadedness: An Apetite for Vibrancy

So it has been a few months since I've been calling Haiti my home. And for a few months, I have had a word recurring on my heart: Jaded.

Not only does this word get me singing a little C'Wood, but it also rocks me to my very core. I've met quite a few people over the last 10 years who live in/visit often/love/have a heart for Haiti like I do. I have kind of a strange mind and I remember specific things about people often quite vividly and there are a handful of people who I remember as jaded. Jaded to life in Haiti, to ministry, to Haitians, to their own families.

How does this happen? Does such blasé just creep in unexpectedly and grab ahold of all you once were passionate about? Do years and years of ministry fatigue even the intentionally fresh?

I know one thing for sure:
The very last legacy I want to leave is that of a lack-luster life.

How do I make sure that doesn't happen?

I believe in intentional living - when it comes to my faith, my family, my friends, my work and ministry especially, I believe that if I'm not intentionally trusting God and relating to people in love, life too easily slips into meaninglessness.

It must be the same; I need to learn about myself the things I need to be intentional about to keep my luster. They're probably different for everyone, but big ones for me are things like maintaining good boundaries, making sure I have time to myself and a day off every week and maintaining a connection with my people back in the States. And I expect to add to this list as I learn more about how I best function in this atmosphere.

I am thankful for the friends I've made here. Very thankful. We were just saying the other day how we live such random, strange lives and yet God has brought us together as friends and as people who would hang out together even if there were lots of other people to hang out with (...which there is not). They're tre enpotan to keeping me passionate about life and ministry here.

C'Wood said it pretty well:
"I don't want to spend my life jaded, waiting to wake up one day and find that a lot of these years go by wasted"

These years that God has called me to Haiti I want to count, I desire for them to be vibrant and quite awesome, really.

Arcahaie and some Scumbag

Friday was Flag Day in Haiti. All around the country, kids were marching in parades wearing cute little red and blue costumes and waving flags symbolizing Haiti's birthday. 

There are often parades in Haiti and singing and chanting, but usually those things mean guys up to no good or even voodoo stuff, so I don't tend to like the thought of dancing in the streets and parades. But Flag Day is different. 

I wish I had some awesome pictures to show you, but I don't. But here is one that John McHoul (@mchoulj) took: 

My friend Katie and I decided to go to Arcahaie where most of the celebration was to be had -- Prezidan Martelly was scheduled to be there and there was a big flag-raising ceremony and parades, music and all sorts of fun stuff. 

We saw Martelly, pretty close actually, and watched the raising of the Flag and people cheering for their country and their leader. 

Then, we wanted to be close to the parade, so we started to make our way through the crowd. I'm thankful that I am not someone prone to claustrophobia, because we squeezed behind a stage (it smelled great back there, by the way) with about 10,000 other people. Sometime during that 10-minute jaunt pressed body-to-body with complete strangers in an effort to get to our point B, this happened:

They cut right through several layers of fabric and grabbed what they must have thought was my wallet. Thankfully, it wasn't. It was just a small bag that I carry necessities in, like chap-stick and lotion, I had my checkbook in there, business cards, hand sanitizer and other random stuff. So I'm sure they were quite disappointed when they opened it up. 

I first thought my bag had got caught on something sharp during the migration of the sardines, but then Katie's bag was also cut. She lost her iPhone and her wallet. 

So we left; we had to. It was a bit traumatic to think that we were totally targeted. But we really had a lovely day until then. 

Katie and I have talked about it quite a bit since then, and we are thankful that the scumbag who really wanted our stuff really didn't have a desire to hurt us or to even traumatize us. For that we are thankful. 

The rest of the weekend was dramatic, too. The boys had a crazy moto-ride that could have turned pretty bad. Praise God for His hand in that situation, too. Read about their story on Ryan's blog here.

There is spiritual warfare all around us. Some days we feel it more than others. Pray for Haiti.  

The Life of a Lizard: Living a Scared Story

Last week, I finished a book that I hope changes my life. By that I mean I hope I am not so lame that I forget about it and don’t let it change my life.

A Million Miles in a Thousand Years (Don Miller) is a wicked good book. Miller gets approached by some people interested in making his autobiography into a film and is challenged to live a better life story. His storytelling is raw and I like that. He began creating a more awesome life, through adventure and intentional relationships.

The parts of the book broke down the elements of a good story and Miller applied his newfound desire for a great life story to each element.

A character wants something, and overcomes conflict to get it.

I started asking myself what it is I really want. Problem: I don’t really want much. I want to get home everyday in less than 2 hours, I want to not get kidnapped. And of course I have a desire for the women in our programs to be successful and to live fulfilled lives, but as far as “practice” stories, I don’t really have much. 

The reason I don’t have a list of things for me as a character to overcome conflict in order to obtain is an intense fear of failure. If I don’t ever have a goal, or something I’m striving for, it is sure hard to fail. If I don't ever declare a 'want' in my life then I am not accountable to try something that I might fail at.

I don’t really consider myself a fearful person because I’m not really afraid of many tangible things (yes, yes, yes, I am terrified of birds – I said it).  But the Lord has been revealing to me that the things I am afraid of are keeping me from a truly wicked-awesome life story.

There are somewhere around 4.3 million lizards at the OK. There are 5 or 6 that live in my apartment and I like them because they’re kinda cute and they eat bugs. There are big lizards, too – up to eight or ten inches in length. Those are not in my apartment.

One thing about lizards is that they are scared creatures. They scurry away into the nearest hiding place at their first inclination of human footsteps or voices. They’re always living in fear of being stepped on. Or captured and de-tailed.

The reality is that Haiti can be a scary place to live; for lizards and for people. This last Sunday, the sister-in-law of a [really awesome] lady who works at the Maternity Center got kidnapped. Their home was invaded and she was taken from her husband and six-month old baby. Praise God she was released unharmed and is now back with her family. Agathe said something like ‘this is why Haitians don’t want to live in Haiti. You are totally on your own’. The police don’t intervene and the government sees such problems as overwhelming in a place with lots of overwhelming problems.

Something I studied and sought counsel for before I moved here was God’s protection and what that means for us. Someone said to me that the Lord doesn’t promise physical protection from worldly evils. God doesn’t tell me that I’m not going to get kidnapped or robbed here in Haiti or anywhere in the world,  but what God does promise is spiritual protection and an assurance of our lives secure in Him.

Agathe’s sister’s story has challenged my faith and in parallel with the theme of the book, the Lord is showing me that if something crappy happens, it is part of a larger story being scripted by the Ultimate Author. 

I've been praying that I would stop being such a baby, but I'm being taught that it isn't quite that simple. I have to be open to being broken down and brought back up in Him if I want to live a fearless life story. I'm not excited about that breaking down part.

So I recommend the book highly, but only if you really want to be challenged the way that I have.

Pray for Haiti and for Agathe's sister-in-law as she is healing from trauma. Pray for heavenly intervention and leaders passionate about a new and a different story for Haiti.

Things I Didn't Realize

1.) I didn't realize that what we in America call "review mirrors" are actually meant to be bumpers.

2.) I didn't realize that if you don't have a line of mud on the back of your left calf at all times, you are doing something wrong.

Just two for now. I'll add to this list as I realize more things I didn't realize. 

"Jezi Ede M'"; Jesus Help Me

I had an interesting conversation with someone a couple of years ago about pain. He (of course it was a he), described the feeling of the tingle in your feet when they 'fall asleep' and then putting weight on them. He described this pain as "excruciating." It was then I realized that pain is relative and based on one's own point of reference.
I haven't ever given birth of course, but I certainly wouldn't say sleeping limbs are excruciating.
I thought about this 20-something guy during my day at the Maternity Center on Saturday. In ways, I was thankful for his sake that he won't ever be giving birth.
Guerda was first up.
I was planning on picking up Melissa on the way to church, but she texted me early and told me that Guerda had just arrived and was in labor. Knowing Tara and Beth were both out of town, I got nervous.
Blood doesn't really bother me, I watched Greys Antaomy for years. Knowing that someone is in pain is where I struggle. I really didn't know how I would do when Melissa asked me to come and be with her.
From my perspective, Guerda's labor was long. She arrived at about 7am and baby came right at 3:00 that afternoon. She was difficult. She is hard of hearing and has some mental handicap where she has a hard time understanding basic commands and sentences, even when she does hear you. And having been in labor for the first time, she really didn't understand what was happening to her body and why she was in so much pain.
Her baby girl might be the single most beautiful thing I've ever seen. Her lips were plump and she had a happiness in her eyes and I swear she smiled a few times in her first minutes of her sweet, new life.

The minute she was out, I started crying. I really surprised myself (and affirmed that I couldn't ever hold it together enough to do this professionally) with how emotional I was. I would pull myself together, and then cry again. And again. And again. Something about watching Guerda struggle for so long, and then seeing why she was struggling and how beautiful that struggle turned out to be was miraculous to me. 

Shortly after baby #1 was safely in this world, another laboring mom arrived ready to go. Being with Nadege during her birth was a completely different experience than with Guerda. Nadege has given birth before, knew what was going on with her body, knew what to expect and was familiar with the pain. She was in labor with us for just over an hour before her baby was born. 

She repeatedly said, "Jezi ede m', Jezi ede m'" through her contractions. 

I didn't recognize her, but Nadege is in our Sewing Program and recognized me from the Women's Center. I was less freaked-out this second time around and held her up while she was contracting and took her for  short walk around the center where she nearly pulled me to the ground a few times. 

She knew exactly when her body was telling her to push and that stage lasted just a few short minutes. 

She was a few weeks early, baby was 5 pounds 13 ounces, and just as cute as they come. She was so active - like she could have got up and run around the room right then. 

Nadege absolutely blew me away with how good she was at having a baby. She was calm and collected, strong and prayerful. Her birth was simply beautiful.

It was fun learning a little bit about this world and being around when two beautiful girls were brought into it. 

Jesus the Water Balloon

I had a family member pass away last week. Not someone I was very close with, but my heart hurts for so many people I love dearly.
As I've been praying over the last few days and asking God to give peace and comfort to those hurting and with so many unanswered questions, I have felt an overwhelming warmth in my soul.
Living in Haiti is hard. It is hard in ways that someone who doesn't live here could not understand. There is injustice and brokenness, sadness and hurt around many corners. And it is obvious. Yet, there is a warmth in my soul.
Easter morning was beautiful. The air was crisp and cool. As we prayed over the city, John asked us not to pray in wishful thinking or desire, but to pray expectantly in faith. We sang, 'greater things have yet to come, greater things are still to be done in this city' and I sobbed. Who am I to be in such a place and have such the opportunity to be a part of these 'greater things'? My soul was warm.

If you're my friend at all, you know how much I appreciate the fictional lives of six FRIENDS from New York City aired in the '90s. I watched this episode last night:

Maybe I'm thinking too much (believe it or not, sometimes that happens), but this scene made me smile. Not just because its funny, but because in the fire of life, all that is yucky and sinful and that just plain sucks, there is always a water balloon. 

Water balloon beats everything. Water moves rocks, rusts scissors, disintegrates paper, and silences fire.

In death, in the injustices of life, poverty, sadness hurt and brokenness, Jesus has overcome. My soul is warm.

Harsh Realities; a Talk with a Friend

There is something special about "first world friends" showing up and being present in my "third world life". It is a feeling of affirmation that I am still inhabiting the same earth as those I know outside of Haiti; that we both exist in both places.
Robin works for a great organization called Lifetree Adventures. They recruit for and organize service trips around the world. We met one beautiful day in Loveland, Colorado last year and I was so happy to see her face again here in Haiti last week.
Robin also sponsors a student through Heartline. Farah is a sweet, sweet girl who was so happy to meet her sponsor yesterday, she physically pushed me out of the way to get into her arms.

Visiting with Farah and her mother Guerda and hearing the story of their family ignited a conversation on our car ride home that I can't seem to shake from my mind... and I can't decide whether or not it should be shaken.
Guerda's somber face is marked with a three-inch long narrow scar just to the left of her right eye. Maybe I am bold, or rude, but I felt comfortable enough to ask her what happened. She told me the story of the father of her first two children and how he hit her with the underside of a hot saucepan because she had confronted his new mistress. That was five years ago.
It occurred to me that this woman has probably never had someone tell her, 'I am sorry that happened to you.' I looked her in the eye, held tight to her hand and told her that I hurt for her. She smiled quickly and our conversation continued to cover other, less intense topics.
On our way home, Robin and I (with Pierre, my Haitian co-worker and friend, chiming in at times) reflected on our conversation with Guerda and broadened into the ever-looming question of, 'what would it take?'
What would it take for Haiti to be different? Is there even a hope for something better?
First, I will share a few side-note thoughts that I have come to realize the last 7 weeks:

• I know virtually nothing about what it takes to live here. The fact that I speak the language is nothing more than a convenience. I do not have extra insight into the culture or really any idea what is going on. And I don't expect that to really change with time.
• What I see as Haiti's "problems" are just that: what I see. My vision is so limited. Only with God's direction and mercy can my eyes be widened. 
• Many of these "problems"are just magnified versions of first world problems. Deceit, Greed, Violence...
• If I didn't know that through the power of the Cross, there is hope for Haiti, I would not be here.

What I see, in my ever-limited view of life here, is a distorted ideal of manhood. It is the norm, expected even, for your boyfriend or husband to cheat on you. And eventually leave you. It is the norm for him to hit you. To be allowed to hit you. And women in poverty weigh their options: 

1. No man. Pou kont ou. This means lack of financial support, lack of physical protection and the shame of being a single mother. 
2. Stick around and be used for sex (maybe even infected), disrespected and probably beaten, but have more than nothing to give your children. 

So men are being encouraged by the lack of options for women. And women have no way out. They have likely never heard that they are valuable and loved personally by the Creator of the Universe. That they have God-given skills and talents in their own hands. That there is a third option. 

This is where I get more excited and less discouraged, because Heartline is all about that third option. Walking alongside women and peeling back layers to show creativity, ambition and capability is a privilege and a joy. 

I believe that the hope for Haiti is carried on the heads of the women.