Jacmel, Haiti
Jacmel is a city full of colorful character on the southern coast of Haiti. If you’ve never been there, you should go as soon as possible. It’s truly one of a kind and happens to be one of my favorite little places.
A REFLECTION
As I sit and reflect over my time in Haiti, I can’t help but tearfully question how it has come to an end.
It feels like I’ve spent a lifetime there, but yet it feels like I just showed up.
When I had felt God asking me to move to Haiti, I knew that Grace Emmanuel School was where I needed to be. I knew building intentional relationships with the students by visiting their homes was my heart’s calling. I have since spent time in the homes of over 200 students—learning their stories, encouraging their hearts, laughing, and most likely dancing.
However, I didn’t know the heartache that would follow with this calling. Broken families, poverty, illness, spiritual warfare. By deciding to leap into the valley with Jesus, I quickly learned that this life is filled with suffering and despair. There aren’t good answers to absent fathers, no jobs to earn a living, being unable to put food on the table, and a lack of good, affordable medical care.
But despite the hardship, God has used this place and these people to shape my heart in the most beautiful ways. I feel so much thankfulness as I reflect on all that I have learned, felt, and experienced.
I thank Maudeline and Marie-Lyne, two co-workers-turned-best-friends who love me despite my mess and who always jam out to konpa with me on our frequent car rides home. I have become their honorary sister. I thank Iselande, Ruth, Leconte, Ralph, and the rest of the GES staff as they have welcomed me in and loved me as family. I thank Alie and the kitchen ladies for always letting me be myself by showing off my dance moves and telling jokes. I thank my dear friends Frisner and Chicanot who have treated me like a little sister by both teasing and protecting me. I thank Roger for being the most gracious boss and friend.
I thank the students for letting me into their lives. I thank Dawencia who still loves to sit on my lap. I thank Lincey and her little posse for often putting flowers in the handle of my car door because they’ll miss me. I thank Serdio for never ceasing to yell my name and run across the school yard for a hug. I thank Webs for always greeting me with a big ol' kiss. I thank the kindergarteners for treating me like a jungle gym and bringing so much joy into my day-to-day life.
I thank Joanna and Shalica for braiding my hair when I didn’t have time to do it at home. I thank Manita for showing me what it looks like to live faithfully despite tragedy. I thank Jerry and his buddies for always giving me problems yet still liking me, reminding me that teenage boys are the same in every country. I thank Betina and Ketlove for our girl talks about boys.
I thank Juvenson for teaching me what it looks like to be filled with joy despite life’s difficulties. I thank Lashaïna for her constant spunk. I thank Renette for being a refreshment to my soul every time she says hello. I thank Caterson for always being the sweetest little friend. And of course, I thank Louisando, who was taken from us too soon. His sweet smile will be forever ingrained in my memory.
Of course, there are many of those outside the context of school.
I thank Junior for calling me sister, and for the countless moto rides and tire changes. I thank Jacky for being a genuine, caring friend and trustworthy mechanic.
I thank my Haitian mama, Manmi Dadet, for making sure my belly is full and that my heart is happy. I will miss her bear hugs and abnoxious laugh. I thank the kids at the Lighthouse for sharing their lives with me: Jhonny, Peterson, Gervans, Adriano, Lovely, Anne, Fedner, Kimberly, Bony, Robenson, and Ricardo. I will miss the countless meals shared, movie nights, slumber parties, birthdays, and soccer games.
Of course, I thank my dearest friend, Lauren. Roommate, co-laborer, confidant, bestie. She has been the greatest gift, and I honestly cannot picture my day-to-day life without her in it. Parting ways with her was one of the hardest parts about leaving Haiti. I miss her already.
Lastly, I thank Haiti herself. I'll miss fried plantains with pikliz, fresh-pressed juices, 7UP made with real sugar, Prestige (Haiti's only beer), moto rides, beautiful mountain views, crystal blue Caribbean water, colorful sunsets, constant sunshine, and the endless sounds of konpa music.
I could go on and on, but then I’d have to write a book.
Although I’ve been filled with incredible peace that leaving was the right decision, it didn’t make it any easier or less sad. It literally broke my heart to have left these people so dear to my heart. Saying goodbye was no easy task.
Doing life in Haiti has been the most beautiful, and yet the most ugly. The most joy-filled, and yet the most brokenhearted. The happiest, and yet the saddest. It has changed me. The students, my co-workers, and the friends I’ve made will forever be etched upon my heart. I am American, but I feel like I’m now part Haitian, too. I don’t think I’ll ever quite feel like I belong anywhere until I reach Heaven’s gates.
Although the past three and a half years haven’t been easy by any means, I am so incredibly thankful for all that it was. God has never failed to be the God He says He is. I’ve witnessed God cast out demons, heal the sick, restore joy, show up in impossible situations, and bring salvation to the lost. He’s a good, faithful Father. And despite my being prone to wander and my lack of perfection, He has never left me alone or become silent. I feel so thankful to have been chosen to serve Him in this way.
I’ve learned, I’ve broken, I’ve loved, and I’ve danced. And if God asked me to do it all over again, I would without hesitation.
COMING TO AN END
For some time now, I've been contemplating leaving Haiti. I kept that thought tucked away because I didn't want to have to face the heartbreak that would follow.
How could I ever actually bring myself to say goodbye? I've met some of the most incredible people, people who have forever marked my heart.
This place is often hard, overwhelming, and stressful.
However, this place has become home. And as what home often does, its beauty outweighs the broken pieces. I have an immense love for this place beyond what mere written words would ever describe. If I were asked to do it all over again, including the pain and suffering, I wouldn't hesitate to say yes.
Although it makes me cry to think of leaving (tears are welling up as I type these very words), I know it’s time. And God has filled my heart with peace.
I’ll never forget the words a dear brother in the Lord shared with me when I first started feeling that my time in Haiti was coming to a close in April of this year:
“God was there before you arrived. God has been there while you’ve been there. God will be there when you leave.”
It is those words that make my heart rest easy. His thoughts and ways are much higher than my own. God sees and knows the Haitian people so dear to my heart, and he loves them more than I ever could.
With that said, I will be leaving Haiti at the end of December. It seems crazy to put that into words; I still haven't quite wrapped my mind around it yet. I never realized this moment would actually come. Although my heart is heavy and sad to leave the kids and the people I have built relationships with, I have peace in my heart that this is the right decision. I shed about a million tears when I told the students I would be leaving. Saying my goodbyes is going to be rough, to say the least.
There are many factors that went into this decision.
One of my goals in moving to Haiti was to eventually work myself out of a job and pass it on to Haitian staff. I believe that Grace Emmanuel School can funtion effectively without my presence. I am confident that students will be loved and taken care of, and that the school will continue to thrive. By the time I leave, I will have spent 1.5 years beyond my original commitment to this work.
Over the past 3 years of living in Haiti, I have faced trauma, pain, and obstacles beyond my control. This past year in has been particularly discouraging. Although I have learned a lot in the midst of the suffering, the stress has taken a toll on my physical, emotional, and spiritual health. I believe it is essential that I take care of myself (or rather, let God do that).
I am confident that I'm not leaving as a failure, although the devil is really trying to convince me of that. In the midst of the hard stuff, I have learned and grown beyond what I could have ever imagined or asked for (even if that came with cursing a little bit more). And I pray that God has been glorified through my life here.
Although my journey in Haiti is coming to an end, I have some exciting things brewing for the near future, making my departure a little bit easier. My plans are not completely set in stone yet, but I am planning to move to South Florida sometime in the beginning of 2018. I don't want to leave Haitian culture completely behind, so I've chosen to continue using the knowledge of the language and culture through living amongst Haitians stateside.
What exactly will that look like? I don't know yet! I'm hoping to find work with a non-profit that works with Haitians or work as a teacher in a school with a large Haitian population. Regardless, I'm looking forward to whatever lies ahead.
To those of you who have supported my Haiti journey, I cannot thank you enough. I am beyond grateful. The fruit of my labor and the growth in my heart would not have been possible without your faithful partnership.
SUFFERING NO MORE
I’ll never forget how Louisando entered into my life. It was my first year in Haiti. I was excited and full of zeal. I was finally here, serving the people God had called me to.
I woke up to a text early one February morning that a 9th grade student, Edmundo, died the night before due to sickle cell anemia. I didn’t know that student, but I couldn’t help but cry. This was my first experience with death in Haiti - a death that would have most likely been avoided if there was easier access to good medical care, a death that should never happen, especially to such a young life.
I’ll never forget that funeral. I had a student on each side of me sobbing at the loss of their 17-year-old friend and classmate. I was heart broken.
That’s when I met Edna, his mother, and Louisando, his quiet, 3-years-old brother.
With a desire to come alongside this family, we were able to put Louisando in Grace Emmanuel School. It felt like redemption. God was turning this heartbreak into something beautiful.
Unfortunately, we soon learned that Louisando, like his brother, had inherited sickle cell anemia. As a ministry, we were able to come alongside this family by helping with regular doctor visits, as well as emergencies.
Despite the disease’s severity and what happened to Edmundo, I developed a hope that he’d always be just fine. He was brought into our paths for a reason, right? There’s no way this would happen again, especially now that we were aware and able to help.
One early morning, I woke up to a text that shattered my heart. It was like deja vu; this had happened before.
“I have news for you. Louisando died.”
It couldn’t be real. He couldn’t be gone.
Cute, timid Louisando had become one of my little buddies at school. When he would see me at school, he would yell my name and run into my arms. Although shy, he possessed one of the best smiles.
How could he really be gone?
I was in the states at the time I got the news, waiting for airports to open after Hurricane Irma so I could return to Haiti. I immediately rushed to my laptop and anxiously looked for flights to get me there the next morning. I needed to be there.
Thankfully, I found one and left a couple hours later.
Without a wink of sleep, I arrived the next day with just enough time to sit with Edna at their home and attend the funeral. Over the years, Edna had become a dear friend. The moment we locked eyes, we started crying. I hugged her and sat with her. I didn’t have words to comfort her. How could anything comfort her as she had lost her second and last child to this disease?
Roger, director of JIHM, sat with us and shared something I had not yet thought of. Although Louisando will be missed, he is no longer suffering.
He doesn’t have to be sick anymore and rushed to the hospital. He doesn’t have to miss school anymore because of how badly his body hurts. He is with Jesus, where tears and pain don’t exist.
Edna shared with us that Louisando loved Jesus. He wanted to become a pastor one day and would practice by preaching to his friends. Louisando’s last words were, “Jezi, Jezi. Sove m’.”
Jesus, Jesus. Save me.
In the midst of suffering, 5-year-old Louisando possessed the kind of childlike faith that Jesus described.
“Truly I tell you, unless you change and become like little children, you will never enter the kingdom of heaven. Therefore, whoever takes the lowly position of this child is the greatest in the kingdom of heaven.”
It’s hard to see God’s goodness when staring at such a small casket. It’s hard to imagine God’s faithfulness at the sight of a crying mother who just lost her last child.
We may not ever understand, but there’s one thing we can hold fast to:
God is good.
He sees us in our pain, he sees us in our suffering, he sees us in our lack of faith. He sees us and he understands. He knows, and he is good.
Sweet Louisando, your little smile will forever be etched upon my heart. Although you will be forever missed, I’m so thankful you get to be with your precious Jesus, suffering no more.
STABILITY
"Rest with me awhile. You have journeyed up a steep, rugged path in recent days. The way ahead is shrouded in uncertainty. Look neither behind you nor before you. Instead, focus you attention on Me, you constant Companion. Trust that I will equip you fully for whatever awaits you on your journey." (via Jesus Calling by Sarah Young)
With a lack of better words, the season I currently find myself in kinda sucks. Emotionally tapped out. Spiritually dry. Physically exhausted. I know I'm supposed to find joy in the midst of such, but that's straight up easier said than done.
Although it has been draining in all aspects of the word, it's also been a season of learning. Like metal being refined by a fire, I've been going through refinement. It burns. It's painful. It'll leave a mark. The amount of time spent there will determine how bad it hurts and how difficult the recovery will be.
Last month, I opened my Bible for the first time in awhile. It wasn't because I felt like I had to, but because I actually wanted to. I felt as accomplished as if I had won the gold.
And as the living word of God always does, the words spoke straight to my heart.
"He will be the stability of your times."
It's as if these words jumped off the page and had a literal dance party in my soul.
When I am an emotional wreck, when I'm spiritually sucked dry, when I'm tired physically, am I letting him be my stability?
Why is that so stinkin' hard? Why do I often chose to stay in the overwhelming chaos, confusion, and pain when he can be my stabilizing force? Why, instead, do I run to other things to satisfy as if they will do as such?
Temporary coping is not better than permanent stability. And as a new song that has been on constant repeat says, "steady, you stay."
Steady. He is steady. He is stable. And he will stay that way.
He will be the stability of my times.
JUST SHOWED UP
Mailove (pronounced "my love") is a young woman about 20 years old. She is the older sister of two students, Jeff and Dawencia. When their mother died in June 2015, the two bounced to a couple different living situations. Eventually, they were sent to her and her boyfriend. I wasn't sure how that would pan out considering their age, but it has, indeed, become their place of permanency.
Ever since their mother passed, I've tried to visit them as much as I can. I felt God tug on my heart to love them with a motherly kind of love, pouring out as much of it as possible. I've never been a mom, so I just did what my mom did - smothering them with hugs and kisses, telling them to make good choices, always letting little Dawencia sit on my lap, and reminding them how much Jesus loves them.
When Mailove became pregnant with her first, she asked me to be the godmother of her baby. I was hesitant to say yes. I've been asked before and honestly, I just didn't want to be the token white girl. I told her I wouldn't live here forever and, if she'd like, she could ask someone else who will.
But she still wanted me to do it, so of course, I said yes.
Now, I'm the godmother to one of the cutest and chunkiest babies on this little island.
What a honor it is to be chosen to enter into their story. I never would have imagined that by diving into the lives of students, God had plans for me to go deeper into the lives of their families.
However, this is far from my own doing. As Conor Grennan (via Little Princes) said, it's "...not because I was qualified, but because I had showed up." I am merely a servant commissioned to do His work, a hand-crafted vessel used to pour out His love. Someone who just showed up.
SUFFERING
For a long time, Haiti was considered the poorest country in the Western Hemisphere (word on the street is Venezuela just took that title). In a recent study, Port au Prince, Haiti was ranked as the 4th worst place to live. Another recent study shows that Haiti's suffering is the second leading nation in the world.
The mother of one of our precious students died. She was extremely ill due to HIV, and it was too far advanced for medical intervention. His father had died of the same disease. Now, not only is he fatherless, but motherless as well.
The mother of my friend and coworker passed away suddenly. We aren't exactly sure why, but rumor says it was a result of voodoo. She was also the main caretaker for a student.
A friend, staff member, and mother of 3 students got attacked with a broken bottle in the middle of the night by her ex husband. Thankfully, after going to the hospital, she is okay.
A young student is battling sickle-cell anemia, the same condition that took the life of his older brother, who was also a student at our school.
An older student was extremely ill due to malaria, typhoid, and a bacteria disease. He was hospitalized for 16 days, and is currently recovering.
Another student, whose parents have passed away, asked if he could come live in our children's home because his aunt cannot provide for him any longer.
One of our students has been seeking treatment for an unknown illness from a voodoo doctor. He's been there for nearly 3 months and still has yet to fully recover.
Yet, although Haitians are among those who suffer most, suffering is everywhere.
A supporter and long-time family friend just underwent a very sudden quintuple bypass surgery. Thankfully, the surgery went well and he's currently recovering.
One of my dearest friend's college-aged daughter is battling a rare form of uterine cancer. She is in the midst of a long treatment plan, and recently had a hysterectomy for the best chances of getting rid of the cancer. Although unimaginably difficult, because of that surgery, she is currently cancer free.
My dad was recently diagnosed with cancer and had to undergo an invasive surgery. He's currently cancer free, but are unsure what the future holds.
Suffering exits on this side of Heaven, I understand that. In fact, Jesus himself promised that we'd suffer. He never said life would be only filled with sunshine, rainbows, and happiness. It's also filled with natural disasters, illness, and death. And let's face it, suffering sucks.
But thankfully, in the midst of our suffering, we have a Refuge. One who said he'd be with us always and never leave us. One who suffered greatly himself. He was "made perfect through suffering," so that he'd be a "merciful and faithful high priest" (Hebrews 2).
He sees us in our pain. He understands it. He loves us through it.
Paul suffered tremendously for the sake of the gospel (in ways I will most likely never experience myself), and he always managed to cling to and glorify God through it all.
"We were so utterly burdened beyond our strength that we despaired of life itself. Indeed, we felt that we had received the sentence of death. But that was to make us rely not on ourselves but on God who raises the dead. He delivered us from such a deadly peril, and he will deliver us. On him we have set our hope that he will deliver us again."
Folks say that God won't give us more than we can handle; I see it differently. We are faced with things beyond what we mere humans can handle so that we might cling to our Refuge and ever-present Help in times of trouble.
So although I may not have any answers or incredible insight, I do have the hope that "the sufferings of this present time are not worth comparing with the glory that is to be revealed to us" (Romans 8:18). Jesus said that we will have trouble in this world, but instead of sulking in our misery or trying to figure it all out alone, he encourages us to take heart, for he has already overcome it all (John 16:33).
I WOULDN'T HAVE IT ANY OTHER WAY
I literally have the greatest job. After school, I have the incredible privilege of visiting students in the village. Seeing where they live, meeting their families, encouraging them, praying over them. It's the best.
Not only is it something I enjoy, it's become the very thing that fuels my soul to press on. Some visits leave me feeling deeply encouraged, while some leave me with a broken heart. Some visits are very intentional in trying to dig deep and learn about the student, while others are more casual and light-hearted. Some are completely led by the Spirit, some are because that student literally won't stop asking me to come visit. Either way, relationships are built.
Nearly every time I visit a student, he/she becomes my new buddy at school. There's something about stepping into their world that draws them into a more trusting relationship with me. Seeing their home, sitting on the very bed they sleep on, meeting their caregivers, holding their baby siblings.
I, however, cannot take any of the glory. I feel as though I was created for this very job. Not only that, but the favor I've received is something I can't describe. From being welcomed in with open arms and offered a cold bottle coke as I sit in one of their only chairs, to being given permission to pray aloud in the name of Jesus over a sick student in a voodoo house. The Lord has never ceased to open doors and provide his covering protection.
What a privilege it is to step into their lives beyond the school walls. I've learned and experienced more than I could have ever asked or imagined. I'm thankful to have a story that is being so graciously intertwined with those of a different race, culture, and walk of life.
I wouldn't have it any other way.
REUNITED
As Hurricane Matthew approached Haiti, our area was expected to get up to 85 mph winds and a lot of rain. To say we were worried about the students, staff, and theirs families is an understatement. We knew God had them in His sovereign hands, but the unknown future was nerving.
For some reason beyond our understanding, the expected path of the storm shifted west, giving our area much less wind and rain. After visiting many student and staff homes the day after it passed, it was evident that we were spared. There was no significant damage!
However, about a week later, we learned that the mother of one of our students, who also happens to be the wife of one of our staff members, was in Jeremie when the hurricane swept through and they still hadn’t heard from her. (Jeremie was one of the heaviest hit areas in Southern Haiti.)
My heart sank thinking of the possibility of them not ever hearing from her again.
A couple days later, after what must have been an antagonizing wait, they learned that she was alive! They shared that she was home recovering.
Eager to see if she was ok and to hear her story, I paid her a visit the following week in their home.
During the hurricane, the house she was staying in was destroyed and fell on top of her. She said it was not made of cement, and that if it had been, she could have died. Thankfully, she didn’t suffer from any major injuries. And on top of all that, they went three days without any food.
Her daughter shared that she was scared that her mom had died. When I asked what she did when she saw her mom for the first time, she lit up and said, “I jumped on her!”
We all agreed that “Bondye bon” (God is good).
We praise God that relief teams responded quickly and roads eventually became available for travel so that people like Betchina’s mom were able to return home safely and be reunited with their families.
Unfortunately, this is not the story for everyone as many lives were lost and essentially everything was destroyed in the southern areas. As relief, recovery, and rebuilding continues, please keep the Haitian people in your prayers. If you'd like to donate, I recommend http://www.mohhaiti.org/disaster_recovery.
BAPTISM
"We were buried with him by baptism into death, in order that, just as Christ was raised from the dead by the glory of the Father, we too might walk in the same newness of life." (Romans 6:4)
Anne Marie and Kimberly, two young ladies who live in our children's home, decided to publicly declare their surrender to Jesus! And let me tell you, it was the most picturesque morning for a baptism.
HURRICANE MATTHEW
As I walked around the village yesterday checking in on my friends, students, and fellow staff, I saw a whole lot of smiles and no apparent damage! I haven't seen every student yet, but those who I have seen are just fine as if nothing happened at all. I'm so thankful our area was spared from the hurricane's path of destruction. Praise God!
[Although there was no significant damage in our area, I can't help but think of the lives and homes lost on southern tip of Haiti. Please continue to keep those precious Haitian people in your prayers.]
LIFE UPDATE
Living as a foreigner in a third world country is challenging. After spending two years in Haiti, I chose to stay for another. However, I knew I needed a break. I decided to leave my Haiti home for an extended period of time over the summer months to stay with my family. My expectation was to get much needed physical, emotional, and spiritual rest.
I arrived in the good ol' USA with a weary soul, excited that I had two months ahead of pure bliss - no responsibilities and nothing to stress over. But, as what often happens, my glorified human expectations did not match reality.
Not long after my arrival, I learned that my dad had an abnormal lump on his neck and would be going in for further testing. About a week or so later, he went in for a CT scan showing that the lump was indeed a tumor. About a week later he went in for a biopsy to test whether or not it was cancer.
After nearly two weeks of waiting, we received the news that no one wants.
I will never forget that moment. I was home alone with my dad and we were chatting up a storm about trusting God in the midst of all this. He went outside for a moment, got a phone call, came in the house, looked at me with tear-filled eyes and said, "It's cancer." We cried.
Not long after, my mom rushed in (she had been on her way to work), looks at my dad, and bursts into tears. She wept unlike anything I've ever seen as she fell into his arms. I had to walk out of the room; I just could't bear it.
We all trust the Lord, but that kind of news requires tears.
He had to go in for another scan that week to see what kind of cancer it was and whether or not it had spread. We later found out that the cancer was Squamous Cell Carcinoma. The cancer had invaded a tonsil and a lymph node.
Over a week later, he went in for surgery to remove the cancerous tonsil, the tumor, and the surrounding lymph nodes. Surgery went about as well as it could have, but we still had to wait on the pathology results.
Thankfully, the surgery was successful in removing the cancer. There may still be a long road ahead as the future is unknown, but we remain hopeful, trusting that God is sovereign.
Also while home, I had an unexpected ankle surgery. It had been causing me pain for over a year and it had gotten to a point where I could hardly even drive. Exercising became difficult, walking the villages caused pain. I found out that I had three options - a cortisone shot that would provide temporary relief, live with the pain for now, or surgery. Knowing what the pain had been like for the past year, I decided to have the surgery, an arthrotomy of my right ankle.
After 4 weeks of recovery, I got the news from my doctor that I could finally head back home to Haiti. I booked my ticket for that same week.
It may not have been the most blissful sabbatical ever, but I'm choosing to be thankful for all that it was. My dad's caner brought our tight-knit family even tighter and caused me to put all my trust in He who is faithful; my surgery forced me into physical rest (which also gave me a good excuse to watch all my favorite Olympic events); being home for such an extended period of time allowed me to spend quality time with my closest friends; having little responsibilities (and speaking English) gave my mind a breather.
Now, I'm back in Haiti and couldn't be more excited. I know there are many hardships to come (and honestly, there have already been quite a few), but I'm eager to continue the work God has called me to do at Grace Emmanuel School.
"Who shall separate us from the love of Christ? Shall tribulation, or distress, or persecution, or famine, or nakedness, or danger, or sword?...No, in all these things we are more than conquerors through him who loved us. For I am sure that neither death nor life, nor angels nor rulers, nor things present nor things to come, nor powers, nor height nor depth, nor anything else in all creation, will be able to separate us from the love of God in Christ Jesus our Lord."
ONE LESS
“The truth is that the 143 million orphaned children and the 11 million who starve to death or die from preventable diseases and the 8.5 million who work as child slaves, prostitutes, or under other horrific conditions and the 2.3 million who live with HIV add up to 164.8 million needy children. And though at first glance that looks like a big number, 2.1 billion people on this earth proclaim to be Christians. The truth is that if only 8 percent of the Christians would care for one more child, there would not be any statistics left.” - Katie Davis
Recently, I had the honor of capturing one of the most beautiful moments as some friends welcomed home their adopted son from the Congo. According to statistics, the Congo has over 4 million orphans. Now, because one family was willing to step in, there’s one less.
YEAR THREE, HERE I COME
Two years ago today, I moved to the pearl of the Caribbean. I set off for a life changing adventure to a culture, people, and language I had yet to really know. I didn't exactly understand what I was getting myself into, but I was excited for what God had in store.
Since the moment I stepped off the plane and into my new home, my world has been flipped upside down. Now, two years later, I better understand the culture, I have incredible friendships, and I can speak the language (well, sorta). My faith is stronger, my eyes see things differently, my heart beats to a newer rhythm, and my soul feels a whole lot deeper. I am in love with the students I get to serve. Although it's been a rough ride filled with heartbreak, stress, and a whole lot of humbling, I wouldn't trade it for anything else.
I'm honored that the Father chose me to live this life, that he decided I am the one who gets to love these students, that I get to witness his faithfulness in unimaginable ways.
I'm excited and hopeful for what lies ahead as I follow Jesus into another year. Year three, here I come!
ARE YOU WILLING
"The Christian life is a journey to the greatest joy that exists. But 'the way is hard that leads to life, and those who find it are few' (Matthew 7:14) Why is that? Because, paradoxically, in order to pursue our greatest joy, we must deny ourselves." – Jon Bloom
As I looked out at the kiddos playing in the school yard, God started speaking to my heart about willingness.
He asked in his still small voice, "Are you willing to stay forever?"
He assured my anxious mind that he's not asking me to stay forever; he just wants to know how willing I am to follow him wholeheartedly. How willing I am to fully depend upon him no matter what happens, no matter where he leads.
I said yes to living in Haiti with an end date in mind, but am I willing to loosen my tight grip around the idea of a timeframe? Am I willing to let go and trust God with full assurance that he is working out all things for my good? Am I willing to let go of things I desire in order to glorify the one who gave me life?
The answer is yes. Sometimes, I wish I was a little less willing so I could go back to a more "comfortable" life with less heartbreak, stress, and mosquito bites. However, a life poured out for Jesus' sake is undeniably worth it, and I am more than thankful for this wild adventure towards eternity with him.
Jesus said it himself, "If anyone would come after me, let him deny himself and take up his cross and follow me. For whoever would save his life will lose it, but whoever loses his life for my sake and the gospel's will save it. For what does it profit a man to gain the whole world and forfeit his soul? For what can a man give in return for his soul?" (Mark 8)
Thankfully, I trust that God is who he says he is. No matter where I go, what I do, and when I do it, he is faithfully working it all out for my ultimate good according to his perfect plan. Denying myself, taking up my cross, and following him is my best option. So, I'm going to stick with that no matter the cost.
OUT OF DARKNESS
Every once in a while in life, you meet a soul unlike any other. One that makes you wish you where a little more like them, and that somehow after spending time with them, a bit of their sweetness will rub off on you. Manita is one of those people. She possesses the kindest and most gentle soul with a heart so unbelievably in love with Jesus.
As a child growing up in the village of Cabaret, Manita would dance at voodoo ceremonies. She worshipped Satan, the same as the rest of her family. She didn’t know any differently.
Then Manita started attending Grace Emmanuel School in 2005. Her family had heard of a new, free school for their daughter to attend and enrolled Manita in 2nd grade at the age of 10.
At Grace Emmanuel School Manita heard about Jesus. She remembers a man named Manela who would lead devotions every day for all the students. It was during one of these devotions in 2009 that she made the decision to follow Christ. She had seen death in voodoo, but in Jesus, she found life. She says it was by the grace of God that she became a Christian.
A few years ago, Manita’s family moved to Bon Repos and she almost had to quit school because of the daily cost to travel the distance. Staff encouraged her to continue and assured her God would provide, and He has proved faithful.
Now 21 years old and in 12th grade, Manita expects to graduate next year (high school in Haiti goes through 13th grade) and would like to study to become a pediatrician. She is a quiet leader of the whole student body. She sings beautifully, stays out of trouble, and is always near the top of her class.
I ask Manita if I can visit one day as we are driving to Bon Repos from school. She leads me to the two-room wooden structure where she lives with her mom, uncle, his wife, and their three children. She shares a full-size bed with her mother in a small room also shared with her three young cousins.
Her mom is not home, and Manita tells me she will be at the local market selling beans until dusk.
Seven years after putting her faith in Christ, Manita is the only Christian in her family. Her mom still believes in Satan and practices voodoo.
I ask her if this is hard. “I used to talk to my family about Jesus and tell them that He is coming back, but they won’t believe. I tell my mom that Jesus loves her and wants to give her life. My mom says she wants to believe in Jesus, but she still hasn’t.”
Curious about her father, I ask about him. She says he used to practice voodoo as well. In 2006, he became very ill and bed-ridden. Because of this, neighbors came to visit and shared the gospel with him. Before dying in 2007, he gave his life to Christ.
I leave her home encouraged. Manita’s story is one that speaks of bright light in the midst of darkness. What Satan meant for destruction, Jesus meant for life! What a wonderful reminder that the enemy has no dominion over who belongs to Him.
“But you are a chosen people, a royal priesthood, a holy nation, God’s special possession, that you may declare the praises of Him who called you out of darkness into His wonderful light” (1 Peter 2:9).
A month or so after I visit her home, I receive word that her mother is ill and needs to go to the doctor. She is in a lot of pain and cannot walk because of her inability to move her left arm or leg. I feel in my heart that I am called to lend a helping hand. After a few trips to a nearby clinic, we find out she is suffering from paralysis due to hypertension. Her elderly body is literally wasting away.
Myself and many others who know the situation continue to pray with expectation. We are confident that God, according to his perfect will, has the ability to heal both physically and spiritually.
A few weeks go by and I receive the greatest news of all. After spending a lifetime practicing voodoo and worshiping Satan, her mother has finally given her life to Christ! She may not be healed physically, but she has been saved from the dominion of darkness! As Manita put it, "all the glory belongs to God!"
"So we do not lose heart. Though our outer self is wasting away, our inner self is being renewed day by day." (2 Corinthians 4:16)
(co-written with Kristi Bucher)
A LOFTY PRIVILEGE
"To enter into loving people and possible loss, is to enter into suffering, to enter into the daily hurts and heartaches. To soldier on well we must have an understanding of suffering or we will let it overwhelm us and stomp out God’s goodness, and then we become a martyr rather than an overcomer." -- Sarita Hartz
Jesus promised pain and suffering. Paul suffered. Mary suffered. Peter suffered. Stephen suffered. Jesus himself suffered. Must I continue?
I gather this: I cannot live a gospel-motived life without suffering. Yes, maybe there will be seasons where suffering doesn't seem so dang prevalent. But in reality, it will come.
For some, it may never leave.
So wether I am stuck in the hot, dusty valley, climbing up the never-ending mountain in the blazing sun, or working my way back down the mountain (which is must easier than the original climb, but still a tedious task as you must work hard not to tumble down to the bottom), suffering is inevitable.
But that doesn't mean I have permission to sulk in a self-pity filled, woe-is-me, negative Nancy kind of attitude.
Again, Sarita puts is perfectly:
"Expect that there will be pain in this life and in what you do for the Kingdom. Decide that you won’t let it make you a martyr. Decide to not let the unfairness of this life make you bitter. You will face the disappointments and rise, because you know ultimately all things do work together for the good of those who love Him. He is working out the beautiful tapestry of your life in ways you can’t even imagine. He knows everything you need to fulfill your call. He doesn’t waste a single one of your tears. I believe He has a bottle in Heaven of each tear I’ve cried. He will not waste any of your suffering or any opportunity to shape it for your good and for the good of many others."
Thankfully, amidst the trials, Jesus has promised that he'll never, ever leave or forsake us. We overcome because he already overcame. No matter what kind of terrain I find myself on, I can rest assured that my suffering is not in vain. In fact, I should count it as a lofty privilege to suffer for Jesus' name sake. I am a warrior on the frontline of battle! As Paul puts it, "I consider that the sufferings of this present time are not worth comparing with the glory that is to be revealed to us."
(If you haven't read a blog post from Sarita Hartz, you're missing out. If you are a missionary, going to be, was at one point, or just want to understand a missionary better, go and read her stuff. She says all the things I don't have words for and deeply encourages my soul.)
NEVER, EVER FORGET
"Blessed be the God and Father of our Lord Jesus Christ, who has blessed us in Christ with every spiritual blessing in the heavenly places, even as he chose us in him before the foundation of the world, that we should be holy and blameless before him. In love he predestined us for adoption as sons through Jesus Christ, according to the purpose of his will, to the praise of his glorious grace, with which he has blessed us in the Beloved. In him we have redemption through his blood, the forgiveness of our trespasses, according to the riches of his grace, which he lavished upon us, in all wisdom and insight making known to us the mystery of his will, according to his purpose, which he set forth in Christ as a plan for the fullness of time, to unite all things in him, things in heaven and things on earth.
In him we have obtained an inheritance, having been predestined according to the purpose of him who works all things according to the counsel of his will, so that we who were the first to hope in Christ might be to the praise of his glory. In him you also, when you heard the word of truth, the gospel of your salvation, and believed in him, were sealed with the promised Holy Spirit, who is the guarantee of our inheritance until we acquire possession of it, to the praise of his glory."
Over the weekend, we celebrated the death and resurrection of Jesus. Many times, I had to fight back the tears as I thought about the goodness of our God. Jesus, in all his glory, humbled himself by coming to earth to sacrifice himself for the sinner (a.k.a. all of us).
"For while we were still weak, at the right time Christ died for the ungodly."
This was the most perfect sacrifice. Now, we are not saved by perfecting the law or the bloody and tedious task of sacrificing animals; we are saved by our mere belief in the risen Son of God. We reap the benefits of his miraculous death and resurrection due only to his love for us. We have done nothing to deserve or earn it. We were chosen before time, adopted as his own. And there's nothing, absolutely nothing, that can separate us from this unmeasurable love.
I, a sinful woman, am now counted as righteous. "I have been crucified with Christ and I no longer live, but Christ lives in me. The life I now live in the body, I live by faith in the Son of God, who loved me and gave himself for me." I've gone from slave to free, broken to renewed, lost to found - all because of the blood shed on the cross over 2,000 years ago.
This moment in history is on the calendar to be celebrated once a year, but that same moment should be what drives us all to our knees daily. The King of kings came down and rescued us all! We, undeserved, broken humans, are deemed spotless in the presence of God.
May we never, ever forget that.
However, his saving grace never promised a life of bliss (maybe that's what we'll get when we arrive in Heaven). He actually promised quite the opposite. We WILL suffer, we WILL face trials of many kinds. But thankfully for us, Jesus claimed victory over this life. In him, we have already won!
"In the world you will have tribulation, but take heart, I have overcome the world!"
"And after you have suffered a little while, the God of all grace, who has called you to his eternal glory in Christ, will himself restore, confirm, strengthen, and establish you."
"For this light momentary affliction is preparing for us an eternal weight of glory beyond all comparison."
So, may this incredible truth not only be celebrated once a year, but spur us to live daily with a zeal that cannot be contained. Amen.
A LIGHT UNTO THEIR PATHS
In November, my mom told me that my home church (Harvest Fellowship of Leo, Indiana) wanted to do something for the students of Grace Emmanuel School for Christmas.
I told her that we've dreamed of giving Jesus Storybook Bibles to all of younger students and regular Bibles to the older students. This, however, would be a sizable cost. My mom assures me of her confidence that God will provide the money.
To make a long story much, much shorter, the money was raised! Now, each student has a Bible of their very own. I pray this gift of God's word would be a lamp unto their feet, and a light to their paths.
We owe a huge "thank you" to the generous hearts of Harvest Fellowship! The students' smiles as they received their Bibles was something words could never describe.
Here's a small glimpse of the joy:
EMPTYING THE OCEAN
Visiting students is the part of my job that doesn't really feel like a job. How on earth did I get this insanely awesome opportunity? To enter into their space, get on their level, meet their families, see their situation first-hand, spend quality time, and love them.
How is it that I, a twenty-something white girl, get to dive into the trenches with some of the poorest of the poor? With those who have been abused and abandoned? With those who don't have much to call their own?
I am in no way prepared or qualified for such a task, but God called me anyways for some reason beyond my own understanding. God seems to have a thing for calling the ill-equiped (Moses, anyone?). So, I find myself extremely thankful that I get to love them. I love loving them.
However, as you probably know, love comes with heartache. Katie Davis, in her book Kisses from Katie, puts it this way:
"Sometimes working in a Third World Country makes me feel like I am emptying the ocean with an eyedropper. And just when I have about half a cup full of water, it rains...It is enough to discourage even the most passionate and enthusiastic person. And yet the discouragement lasts only a moment and God tells me to keep going. That He loves me. That He loves these people. That He will never leave or forsake any of us, not one. That my work is important to him...Love is the reason I just keep filling up my little eyedropper, keep filling it up and emptying my ocean one drop at a time. I’m not here to eliminate poverty, to eradicate disease, to put a stop to people abandoning babies. I’m just here to love."
Isn't that the truth! God did not call me here to fix people or systems, I can leave that up to Him. He called me here to love. Why? Because He perfectly and sacrificially loved us first. Whether working in Haiti or in a fancy high-rise building in Los Angeles, the Christian is called to love with a different kind of love: the immeasurable, unconditional love of Christ. Although I'm not always good at it, I'm thankful I get to be a part of what He's up to! Even when it feels like I'm only emptying the ocean with an eyedropper.
