Beautiful Things Haiti 2012

I've been home for fifteen days now. Fifteen long days. Somehow, after being in Haiti for just one short week, home doesn't quite feel like home anymore. Don't get me wrong, loving on family, catching up with friends, taking hot showers, eating Chick-fil-a and getting some real rest in my comfy bed has been just shy of heavenly. But, something seems to be missing...

Perhaps it's my heart. I mean, I did leave it there. Haiti captured it and is holding it tight and I'm not quite sure what to do about it.

I've wanted to blog about the trip. But, words just haven't been coming easily to me. There was a lot of emotions coming off such a journey, and I tend to be the overly zealous kind about missions, living abroad and especially comforting those in need. I witnessed first-hand a lot of needs, a lot of hurting in Haiti...and a lot of healing too. So you can imagine the the tug-of-war that has ensued in my heart and mind since returning. I long to go back. There isn't a day that goes by that Haiti doesn't come to mind and work it's way into my prayers. But, as my wise mother cautioned me, "Let the dust settle from the trip and then take it to the Lord." And that's what I've set out to do.

Words such as amazing, awesome, memorable, heart-breaking and epic have been suggested to describe the time spent in Haiti. Those words don't quite cut it. It's hard to properly convey just what it's like there. The poverty, hurt, the pain...all of it is glaring evidence of our fallen world. It overwhelms your senses, rocks your world and positively challenges your perspective on humanity and the Lord.

My journal entry from my first day in Haiti..."Made it to the children's home...wow. Haiti is exactly what I thought it was going to be. Poor, desolate and ruined. But not ruined beyond repair. The phrase "There is always hope in Jesus" keeps ringing in my ears."

Victory in Christ. A theme that became overwhelmingly evident to me as the week went on.

Over the next couple of weeks...or even months...I hope to share a little more specifically what I experienced there and what the Lord taught me.

But in the meantime, here's a quick glimpse at of our time in Haiti (compiled by one of the team members!)...

I have to be up at 3:00 am tomorrow. Yep, that's three o'clock in the morning. Didn't even know that time existed.

Why so early? Because I have to catch a flight to here...

A team of 13 from Calvary Baptist, plus Cale and I are heading south for a week to do some construction work in Port-au-Prince and then spend quality time here...

Am I ready for what I'll see and experience there? No, I'm not. In fact, I'm a little nervous about this trip...and that's kind of unusual for me. I have no idea what to expect, other than being pushed way out of my comfort zone. 

In the midst of the nervousness there is a measure of calm and expectant joy to see how the Lord is going to work in and through us.  The prayers that have been uttered over the past couple of months for this team, this trip and the people we'll be serving will begin to bear visible fruit...and it's going to be a beautiful thing to watch.

Even though I'm not completely ready for the sensory overload that Haiti is sure to provide, I am eager to get out of the states, be stretched and humbled. Things get way too easy here, and complacency settles in too quickly.

If you think of it, please lift our little troop up before the Lord. We're going to need it.

T - 18 hours...

I have something I certainly shouldn't have. I mean, I really shouldn't have this in my possession.

{No, I didn't take anything.}

It was given to me, free and clear.

By the world's estimation, I should be down right discouraged. My father has been out of well-paying job for two years, our house is in foreclosure, my mother has been battling breast cancer for four...and the list doesn't end there. Things have been rough, to say the least.

But I have peace. My parents have peace. We have peace.

It doesn't make any sense. It really doesn't.

There is hardly any worry about how the bills will get covered each month, if mom's cancer will get worse, or how our tummies will be filled from week to week. There's just this peace. A peace that completely overwhelms us and leaves little room for anything else.

It's true, the peace of God really does "surpass all comprehension" as confidently stated by Paul in his letter to the Philippians. Paul would know first-hand. The guy went through so many trials, it makes anything that I might encounter on this side of heaven seem pretty trivial {review Acts 21}.

But when I run back over the obstacles that my family faces day to day, I just have to shake my head in bewilderment. Such peace defies worldly logic at every turn, the quantity is never lacking and it's readily accessible to those who, in faith in Christ, trust Him.

"Faith leads to joy and peace. Paul has found - and if we only put it to the proof, we shall also find - that the simple exercise of simple faith fills the soul with "all joy and peace." Gladness in all its variety, and in full measure, calm repose in every kind, and abundant in its still depth, will pour into my heart as water does into a vessel on condition of my taking away the barrier and opening my heart through faith. Trust, and thou shalt be calm. In the measure of thy trust shall be the measure of thy joy and peace." - Alexander Maclaren

I simply can't get over it. And nor do I want to.

God is so good.

As Christmas came and went this year, somehow the realization of how marvelous the Prince of Peace's birth is comes into focus a bit more clearly.

Thank you, Lord for the peace You give that never ends. {And for the circumstances that made the supply so much more evident.}

I've got a top-rate annoyance that just won't buzz off. This one is a real doozy. Nails on the chalk board type. Scale of 1 to 10...an 11. Every time I come within ear-shot, it takes just about everything within me to not knock it about in hopes of the racket ceasing. A good shake wouldn't hurt, right? If anything, it would relieve the tension it's causing...or I think it's causing. {But, you'll be glad to know that those years of intense "gentle and quiet spirit" training is paying off and I refrain because I know full well that it won't do any good.} But I digress.

It just won't stop. It's constant. A real irritant.

{You'll laugh when you find out what it is.}

My toilet won't stop drip-dripping. There's obviously some kind of leak going on, and instead of taking the time to figure out the problem and then a solution, I find myself getting increasingly annoyed by it. I've focused on it to such a degree that the noise just rings in my ears and I can hardly brush my teeth from the distraction. Sad, I know.

While sitting in my quiet, peaceful office earlier today all the now-apparent spiritual applications from such pesky thorn flooded my mind. I've had plenty of what the world would call "true crisis" come my way over the past month. Real downers. For example, my mother spending close to two weeks in the hospital with a nasty infection. These "big" issues are handled easily, with grace. Trusting the Lord that He has everything in control. And then there's this leaky toilet. I can hardly keep my temper under wraps...and all due to a silly little annoyance.

In some ways, it's in those silly "little" problems that we find out what we're really made of...our finiteness becomes glaringly real. Oswald Chambers wraps it up perfectly, "It is one thing to go through a crisis grandly, but another thing to go through every day glorifying God when there is no witness, no limelight, no one paying the remotest attention." (and there's certainly no one with me in the bathroom lol) It's the mean, trivial things in this world that mark our character, and to a degree, reveal our walk with Christ.

A healthy evaluation of one's self is often beneficial. Thanks, leaky toilet.  :)

Ireland.

How I will miss thee.

You have charmed me through and through.

Your green is of such a shade that words do not do it justice.

Your people have a knack for making perfect strangers fast friends.

Your love for a good laugh brightens even the dreariest of days.

Your roads are crazy. {Corkscrew Hill road, anyone?!}

Your eggs are awful.

......But your shepherds pie, soups and tea are delightful.



Someday I will return.

{pictures coming soon}

This is a friendly public service announcement to not forget or neglect old books.

They usually date back seventy-five years or so. The pages are yellowed with age, dog-eared and the inside cover is usually lovingly dedicated to so-and-so.

They're well written. Contain wholesome story plots and superb vocabulary. There's an abundance of delightful works of fiction to be found, but the real jewels are those that point you to Christ.

It's safe to say that I have a mild obsession with collecting books that are at least a hundred years older than I...and then reading them.

I've never been disappointed.

Case in point...

{Copyright 1898}

Mr. Moody is taking me through the nitty-gritty of the ten commandments like I've never quite experienced before. :)



Soft, steady rain. Check.

Hot tea. Check.

Cozy corner to curl up in? Not so much.

It's one of those days that I fancy myself tucked away somewhere with the option of reading my Bible, writing in my journal or watching movie (it has to be a movie I've seen a hundred times...pure, mindless entertainment). That somewhere could be a nook at a cafe, my room or even the library. I'm not too picky. Just a place of quiet where the soft, soothing melodies of Adele, Priscilla Ahn and Robert Schumann can work their magic on my tired self.

But, alas! there's no escaping today, nor what it holds. Thus I find myself cleverly fabricating a sense of coziness right here in my dreary little office space. Thankful for my tea, music, rain and a little corner...even if it's not quite the real thing. 

I've heard Ireland boasts cozy little spots.

{I don't look too happy in this picture...but that's probably due to lack of sleep and a nagging cough.}