Thoughtful ramblings

Broken, stretched, challenged, hungry for God, thirsty for his quenching love, loved, intimidated, strong, courageous, lost, overwhelmed, blessed, guilty, and open.

These are just a few of the feelings I have had since moving to Haiti. Being here has opened me up to a whole new world of life—a new way of living. It has made the pictures come alive. The statistics I have read are no longer just numbers but faces, houses, hungry pesticide filled pot bellies. Rain used to be something I enjoyed. I loved sitting on a porch and watching, smelling, and hearing the rain come down. But now, each time that rain comes, I cannot help but think of the beautiful faces in Cite Soliel or the children that shout “Hey You” as we drive or walk by the tent city nearby. I cannot imagine what it would be like for your dirt floor to be turned to mud, to not be able to go to sleep because you have to stand up so your head stays above water, to not have protection at all from this rain. Yes, cisterns are filled and crops will be fed, but kids are unable to sleep. As if their hungry stomachs aren’t enough to keep them awake, they have this too. I can’t imagine what it is like to not know when or if I will eat again. I can’t imagine feeding your kids the leftover mush from brewing alcohol so they get drunk enough to not realize they are hungry. I can’t imagine making “food” with clay, oil, and salt and leaving them to cook in the sun to trick your children into thinking they are full. I can’t imagine getting a cut and having no way to care for it. I can’t imagine having to use the shoreline for a bathroom all the time. I can’t imagine tiny sicknesses that wouldn’t even keep an American child home from school escalating into death simply because the needed medicine was unavailable. I cannot imagine what it would feel like to want to give your child away to a stranger, in hopes that they will be fed and get an education.

Life here is real. People steal because they are trying to survive. People live together without getting married because they don’t have money for the wedding. People walk miles barefoot on rough rocky dirt roads because they do not have shoes let alone a vehicle. People die from treatable ailments because they are unable to get medicine. People beg because they hope that today they can feed their grandchildren that were left in their care after they have outlived their own children. People sleep 16 on the floor of a tiny shack, because that is better than not sleeping under a “roof”.  Kids walk miles and miles alone because their parents have too many other things that occupy their minds to be concerned with where their children are. People sit in the scorching sun all day long because they are hoping to sell some of their goods to people passing by just to make a few dollars to take home to their families. People live in tents because that is better than being exposed to the elements. But, despite these circumstances, these people have joy. These people know what it is like to love God with their everything because He really is all they have. When our lives are so filled with stuff and our selfish desires, God is just another part—He’s put into a box that is used whenever it is convenient for us. I desire this faith the Haitian people have.

I’ve recently been finding myself overwhelmed with how much stuff I have. I sit on the toilet almost in tears realizing how blessed I am that I can wash my hands with soap and water after I flush and looking at my shower I can take in privacy without a bucket. I lay in my bed at night on a mattress, with a pillow, and sheet and wonder what it is like to not know what this feels like. I wonder what it is like to not be able charge your cell phone whenever you need to or be able to have the luxury to flip on the light switch when it gets dark out. I know I am blessed to have internet as often as I do (even though it is slow and temper mental). I even look at my stacks of clothes—more than enough for one person and wonder why I have been so blessed to have so much. I look at my shelf with toiletries that I have stocked up on because they are much cheaper to buy in the states than here and I think about the people who would love to have just a drop of that bottle of soap, a squirt of the bug spray, their own stick of deodorant, a tube of toothpaste, or a clean toothbrush. Never in my life have I ever been without needed toiletries—how does that make a person feel? I’ve found myself more and more frustrated with people who have so much spendable income and spend most of it on themselves—always “needing” that something better, something nicer, something bigger, something newer etc. I have to remind myself that not everyone has had the blessing of experiencing what I do. “To whom much is given, much is expected…”

Why am I so blessed to have had so many great experiences already in my 22 years of life? The last six years of my life have brought on so many incredible opportunities and experiences that I could not have laid out myself. Why have I got to experience them? I guess it’s because I told God I was open. I had no idea where that would take me, but I meant it. God has gave me the chance to live alongside teen mothers when I was just a teen myself, He allowed me to be a nanny and learn more about what it’s like to live in a military family, He let me work with homeless and low income people in many different capacities, and He’s chosen me to live in Haiti and love on His beautiful people. Not every one of these transitions/experiences have been easy, in fact, many of them have been challenging and full of tears, but they have all been building blocks to where I am now. Each experience has stretched me, moved me, molded me, strengthened me, and prepared me and I am thankful for each one of those tears I have cried or wanted to cry.

I know God has given me a heart full of love. A heart for those left out, a heart for the people that too often get overlooked, and a heart full of compassion. This is needed here, but also leaves me feeling discouraged because I can’t help everyone. I get frustrated because I can’t just hand out what people ask for. I don’t know how to determine what they need and what they say they need—I don’t have the resources to be everything for everyone. How do I decide who I should help and who I should pass by. God, please convict me of those who need to see you through me as I go through life. Please don’t let me pass up an opportunity to be your hands and feet to those who need it.

2 Corinthians 6:10 (NLT)

“Our hearts ache, but we always have joy. We are poor, but we give spiritual riches to others. We own nothing, and yet we have everything.”