Fader by The Temper Trap

I want to tell you a story. And it’s really long. So I’m not proofreading it.

Once upon a time, a 7.0 earthquake struck Port-au-Prince, Haiti. At this time I wasn’t in school, so when this disaster of catastrophic proportions occurred I was free to go and serve. I ended up changing my plans for the summer (from working with Watoto in Uganda), and relocating to Haiti for a few months. During this time the Lord provided me a couple of particularly close friends. One was Kylie Strating. When I describe Kylie to people I never fail to mention her extraordinary ability to tell the most intense and deep Bible stories in a way that first graders can understand them. Kylie came down to Haiti to serve during the last week of May in 2010, and within the span of those seven days she became one of my dearest friends.

Fast-forward a year (and a couple months).

About 36 hours post-arrival back in States after this summer in Uganda, I flew up to Chicago to visit Kylie before she left for long-term ministry in Colombia. Whilst up there Kylie made a reference to something she had journaled the previous year in Haiti, and I thought, ‘Gosh, I wish I could recall things like that… maybe I should start journaling.’ So, I asked Kylie what her trick was, assuming that she didn’t write down every detail from each day. She goes, “Well, let me tell you story.” I’m thinking ‘Oh, please let it be the one about Elijah and fire raining down from heaven?!’ But alas, it was not. She proceeded to tell me a story out of Judges, about the generation after Joshua rising up, and about how they did not know God. She said, “The reason for the spiritual generation gap is striking; the people had been repeatedly commanded to tell the children and [the following generations] about God's work (see Deut 31).” She continued by saying, “So, the things that I write down now revolve around His faithfulness – writing what He has done.” When all is said and done, what really matters is where God (again) proves faithful – not so much the details of each day.

Fast-forward another month. This brings us to now.

I thought I would tell you about the Lord’s faithfulness in my life via some happenings that occurred a few weeks ago.

I’ve tried these last few weeks to travel, see people I love, and ultimately get all of the wanderlust out of system before school cut puts my passport away in a safe (metaphorically speaking, of course). The last of my ventures included a long weekend in San Francisco attending a Francis Chan conference. It wasn’t so much a conference as it was a mission trip. The point of the conference was to equip and encourage believers to step out and do inner city street ministry. So during the mornings Fran Chan would give a message, and then we all would go out and serve the rest of the day. It made us put into practice what we had learned. Novel concept, huh? Anyway, back to the story… The last of my ventures included a long weekend in San Francisco attending a Francis Chan conference.

The day before I flew out my younger sister, Carly, said she wanted to come out, too. This is how the conversation went down:

-- “You sure about that, Barky?” (iPhones auto-correct “Carly” to “Barky”.. thus, her newest nickname was born.)

-- “Yeah..?”’ symptom

-- “I’d love that. But you need to know that the way I live is 75% glamorous and 25% disastrous.”

-- “….?”

-- “Well, about 75% of the time, things go as planned and the other 25% of the time, everything goes up in flames. If you want to do it, you have to prepare for the absolute worst and pray for the absolute best.”

-- “Okay, well what’s an example of the 25%?”

-- “Like, we might sleep on the streets one night if we can’t find a place.” (This is obviously worst case scenario, but I just wanted to see her reaction.) She died laughing over the fact that that would even be considered. I continued, “Another example would be you missing your standby flight over, or the one coming home and having to spend the night in the airport alone. There’s also the chance that when you show up, they won’t give you a ticket to the conference, so you’d have to explore San Fran by yourself for the weekend.”

-- She laughed hard. “So basically, I have to be willing to miss multiple flights in order to get over there, and then possibly not even get to attend the conference?”

-- “Well, you also have acknowledge the fact that we have nowhere to stay when we get over there. My plan is to sleep at the airport the first night, then to make a friend at the conference and stay with them Friday night. I booked a flight with rewards travel for late Saturday night so that I wouldn’t need to find somewhere to stay that night as well… which is a real bummer... I’m praying God will work out a way for me to stay until Sunday, so I can make a long weekend out of it.”

-- “Mkay.. so I won’t have a guaranteed flight over, flight back, place to stay, or seat at the conference?”

-- “Right.”

-- “Sure. Why not.”

So, after Barb gave us the “not-all-Christians-are-safe-to-stay-with” talk, Barky and I were off. We arrived at the airport five hours before the flight we were shooting for departed. When we got to our gate they told us that the flight was overbooked… no bueno. When they started boarding the plane Barky and I started getting giggly and excited and I said, “Wait! We’re going to get all excited and then not make it and be bummed. We need to chill out.” Just as we had begun to calm down the woman behind the desk called, “Are there any other standbys for this flight?” Barky and I skipped over to the podium in complete bliss – we made the flight! On a Thursday! God really wanted us there apparently, but we didn’t really acknowledge His favor over the weekend till the next day.

While on the plane I coached Barky, “Now listen, Barkz, we really need to make some friends at the conference asap. Let’s go for it.” And homegirl did! She rocked it! Within the first couple of hours Carly had made friends.

For registration the first day of ministry, we were told to pick out which “ministry area” we wanted to participate in. Carl and I came prepared, each having chosen different areas. When we came up to the table they said, “Do you know what you’d like to do?” And I said, “Well, I’d prefer prayer, street ministry, or delivering meals to apartments, but I’d be happy doing whatever is most needed.” She goes, “Well that would be meal prep. Barely anyone has signed up for that one, and they have to pack more than a thousand meals today.” I was bummed, but realized that I had offered, so I said, “Sure!” And after they finished registering me, they started to fill out Carl’s information and went right ahead and put her on meal prep as well hahaha! I laughed hard. But, did you notice – they were filling out Carly’s registration info! Even though the conference was sold out and they had turned away hundreds of people, they let Carly in. Tell me that making the flight + admission into the conference wasn’t God! So cool. I entered in to the conference (where the number had been capped at 150 people), and I saw Francis Chan standing alone. So I went up and talked with him and encouraged him a bit. Crazy. He’s a hero of mine. I had no idea I’d get to meet him. He gave a talk on Joshua 7 and how our sin affects other people. Quite the “pump up” talk, no? It was phenomenal though. Ask me about it.

Then we assembled meals for eight hours; this is where Carly made her friend.

During the break in ministry that night, Carl and I went out for dinner and accidentally got on a trolley going the wrong way, but when we realized this we were too tired to get off and fix it.. so just we rode it. Haha. And it took us to a number of the tourist attractions we were going to see the next day anyway! ‘Nother point for God.

We went back for the “night ministry” and then our new friends picked us up and took us to their home. I had a mattress and Carly had the couch. We were beyond appreciative, especially after having spent the night previous on the floor. In the airport. In subzero air conditioning. With one “mummy-shaped” sleeping bag. And no pillows. It was HILARIOUS. And awful. Now you can understand why we completely lit up when Carl’s friend showed us her living room. We slept great and even got to shower the next day (something else we weren’t planning on being able to do). Our new friends told us to return someday and that we’d always have a place to stay in San Fran.. except that night because their son was coming in from out of town. Haha. So we thanked them profusely and packed up our stuff (again).

That morning Fran Chan blew it out of the water again, and after he spoke I got the opportunity to meet his kids and speak to his wife for a good while. I asked her the questions that I would have asked Francis had time allowed, and got my baby-fix by holding her newborn, Claire, for as long as she would allow me. The day of ministry was awesome. Carl did door-to-door meal delivery and I did street ministry, which basically meant that I hung out with homeless people for the day. At one point in the afternoon there was a lull in activity, so Barky and I were just sitting the park chatting. I walked over to ask a woman about the day’s itinerary, and Barky followed. The man she was with was wearing a Thailand hat, and Carly asked him about it. Long story short, the man pointed to the woman beside him and said that his wife had gone because she worked for Life Impact, an organization that does ministry there. Carly said, “No way! I was just emailing them to see about joining their staff this next year!” The woman asked Carly how she heard about Life Impact and Carly sheepishly responded, “through Francis..” And the woman said, “Me too! I’m Francis’ secretary.” It turns out that the woman Carly had been emailing with was the very woman sitting in front of us. Crazy. She answered all of Carly’s questions and told Carly she’d put in a good word for her. What are the chances? Tell me that both of us making the flight + Carly’s admission to the conference + meeting friends to stay with + running into Sandy, Francis’ secretary who also happens to work for Life Impact, isn’t God?! Gosh! Incredible.

During the conversation we had with Sandy and her husband, Ted, she informed us that Rachel, Francis’ daughter just returned from a month in Thailand working with Life Impact… so guess who we saw on the way back into the conference room that night? That’s right. Rachel. Carly and I went over and asked her all about her Thai experience and working with Life Impact. She got Carly so fired up, and was just a joy to talk to. Barkz and I were both on cloud 9. Too much had gone in our favor. I was kind of waiting for the bottom to fall out. And at one point, it did.

During the night service the first day, I received a message telling me that my two-leg flight back to Atlanta (the following night) had been canceled. Not a big deal except that I had to be in Atlanta Monday for CHOA orientation. The huge hurricane everyone was freaking out about (that I’m not sure ever even hit), caused a recorded-breaking number of flight cancellations. So, there was no way I was going to find a flight to take me back Sunday. That night I couldn’t get the AirTran site to work, so I had to wait until the morning of to fix the problem. When I finally got some internet, all of AirTran’s flights were full. I called my dad freaking out, and he said, “It’s okay. Just book another flight home – I’ll cover it.” One of the things my father does exceptionally is deal with crises. I said okay and searched for flights. Every one I found was over $800. I’d quit my practicum at CHOA before paying that much for a flight. So I prayed and asked the Lord to work something out. Then I called AirTran, laid before them my plea, and they fixed the problem in a matter of seconds. BAM. Free flight home for Sunday – and on the flight I would have chosen had I been willing to extend my stay and pay for a hotel that Saturday night.

When Saturday’s night service ended, one of the pastors heading the conference walked up to Carl and me.. just to make friendly conversation. We chatted a bit, then told him we were homeless and were wondering if we could sleep on the floor of the church. He said, “Sure!” We said, “No way!” And there you have it. Free place to stay. And they had yoga mats! Woot’m.

We woke up. I suddenly remembered there was a church nearby (Reality SF) that I really wanted to visit, so I checked the service times. A service started in just enough time for Carly and me to get there.

The service was baller. And also just happened to be a couple of blocks from the metro station we needed. We were going to pick up food along the way, but every café was over $10 a meal and being served would have taken too long. And, unfortunately, we didn’t see any fast food options. I said, “Lord, I’ll never ask this of You again, but would You please provide a McDonald’s? Or something?” We walked another block, and what did we see? McDonald’s. In the middle of sketch San Fran. After our experience at that McDonald’s, I will surely stand by my word before the Lord – never again will I ask Him to provide one (suffice it to say two drug dealers were trying to get a debtor to pay up.. at the table right next to us). We left quickly, got on the metro, and made it to the airport right on time.. or so we thought. The line Carly had to stand in to buy a standby ticket was LONG. I was secretly wondering if she’d make the flight all. But then something happened that I’ve never seen happen before. An AirTran employee came to the back of the line and started asking if there were any passengers that didn’t need to check luggage. We shot up our hands quickly. BAM: Standby ticket in a matter of minutes. We got to the gate and the woman behind the podium, after returning the $20 they overcharged me, informed us that the there were 11 standbys and only 5 open seats. I started to get a bit worried thinking about Barky staying at the airport alone so I started prepping her. I gave her the sleeping bag and told her I’d pick her up whenever she ended up arriving. I boarded the plane, leaving Barky abruptly, and texted her again. She didn’t respond and I got a bit worried. I thought about getting off the plane and seeing what I could do, and just as I was beginning to stand, guess who pops up on the plane!?

That’s right. Barky.

Now tell me that both of us making the flight + Carly’s admission to the conference + meeting friends to stay with + running into Sandy, Francis’ secretary who also happens to work for Life Impact, then running into Rachael, then getting my flight out booked for free after the long weekend, then being allowed to sleep at the church, then getting to attend Reality SF, then finding a McDonald’s (and not getting beat up on accident), PLUS Carly making the flight home, isn’t God?! That’s exactly it. You can’t. Because God is faithful. And if He insists that you go to California for a long weekend to hang out with one of your heroes and love on homeless people for under $100, you say, “Yes, sir.”

I’m down!

Amen.

Aftermath by Hillsong

Only twentyish days since my last blog! I’m rockin’ it.
So much has happened.

Africa has done me well this first month, pollution, dust, and all. I really love what I am doing here. I am in awe of what the Lord has done through Watoto. And daily I learn things about the ’Ganda that contrast profoundly with all I’ve known in the U.S. -- these differences keep me fascinated. An example of this would be when Walter got sick a day or two ago. Brenda nonchalantly said, “It’s probably malaria. You might want to get that checked out today.” Now, a month ago, the only two things that would’ve been brought to my mind by the word “malaria” would have been 1. Angela Murray’s World Race team getting it in Tanzania (even though they were taking malaria medication), 2. this was the sickness that so consistently killed my Oregon Trail players that I eventually quit playing the game. In other words, I didn’t know much. So, when Walter was, indeed, stricken with the disease and showed up at work the next day, I was astounded. Man, I totally would have milked a diagnosis like that had it happened back in the States!

I truly enjoy every moment I get to spend with the three pleasant people. I particularly enjoy working with some of the children in the Watoto village 20 km away (called Lamenadera Village). Most of the ones we work with have behavioral issues due to having been born/raised in captivity, having been abducted during the war, having been habitually abused as a child, or from having been raised in a “child-headed” household. Social work here looks so different that I don’t know where to begin. A good starter would be that we pray with clients. Also, our once-a-month Watoto social work staff meeting took place this last week, and the whole meeting was focused around getting in the Word together and praying over each other. Staff meetings couldn’t look more different in the States; staff meetings there are typically spent attempting to work out minute issues within the agency. I have been so blessed to get the opportunity to see what social work looks like outside of the U.S. It’s been an enlivening experience.

On Monday of this week, I got a call from Brenda as I was getting ready to head into the baby home for work, and she asked me to come along with her to pick up a new baby. She said, “Walter is staying at the office… Can you go? We need to leave immediately; we lose babies when we wait to pick them up.” She called the baby home supervisor and got me out of work! Woot! Within 30 minutes we were on our way to Lira to pick up a baby girl that wasn’t even 12 hours old. The mother was mentally ill and couldn’t/didn’t want to take care of the child, and the father was nowhere to be found. Halfway there I realized that under these circumstances the baby probably hadn’t been named. My assumption was correct and I was given the honor of giving her her African name (children here have a “tribal” name and an English name). I named her Nimaro, which means “beloved.” Brenda gave her her English name, and named her after me. As you can imagine, this melted my heart. The children in the baby home go by their English names, so it’s been so sweet to hear my name all time and realize they’re not speaking to me, but the absolutely perfect newborn in the house. Cristianna and I were put in charge of taking care of her at the baby home, and it has been a complete joy. I didn’t know I could have so much love in my heart for a child I didn’t birth. I am utterly in love with my namesake, as well as a couple of other babies that have stolen my heart (yes, they have). I’m getting attached to many an African, family.

In other news, I played drums for church on Sunday, and the Lord confirmed that, unsurprisingly, I am no longer a kit player. Haha. Sunday’s services went well, but we had an EIGHT hour practice on Saturday that was straight miserab. I don’t think I’ve ever been so relieved to have anything be over before. Except maybe my Bachelors.

Other than that, out of a heart of generosity, Cris and I have taken turns being incredibly sick and taking care of the other. The Lord’s healing touch has left its mark on us and we’re finally/continually gaining our strength back.

Thank you so much for your kind words, prayers, and emails you’ve sent my way. You bless me. And a blog full of what I’ve been learning will be posted within the next day or two… this one was just to catch you up on some of the recent happenings in my world. I’d love to hear about what’s been happening in yours.

-- EPP

Let the Rain by Sara Bareilles

One more story that really made me laugh (I hope the transcription does it justice):

A day or two ago, the three pleasant people and I traveled throughout the nearby villages to search out potential candidates for the Watoto children's home here in Gulu (potential candidates = "complete orphans" = neither parent still living). Anyway, as we were driving I started to notice that every time Brenda finished a drink she threw the bottle out the window. This sent my mind wandering..

"Is littering legal here?" .. "It can't be!...?" .. "But she's a social worker!?" .. "Why isn't everyone throwing their bottles out the window when they finish?"

This obviously occupied quite a bit of mind-time.

After a whole day out in the field, we made our last village visit and started heading home.

Brenda finally tossed her last bottle out the window, and I couldn't take it anymore.

This is where my curiosity got the better of me:

Me: "Brenda, it's okay to throw bottles out the window here?"

Brenda: "Yeah! It's fine."

Me: "Really? In the States you can be fined over 2,ooo,ooo shillings for throwing trash out the window!"

All Ugandans in the car: "Nooooooo?!?"

Me: "Yes!"

Not knowing what to do with this newfound freedom, I let a couple minutes pass while my imagination soared... and then, I spoke:

Me: "So, Brenda... Can I throw a bottle out the window...?"

Brenda: "Of course you can!"

I froze with excitement.

I quickly found an empty bottle in car, rolled down the window, and carelessly chucked it.

And as quickly as you can say "silly white person in Africa," the whole car erupted in laughter.

Me: "What?! What?!"

Brenda: "What were you doing?! No one saw you throw that!

Me: "Huh?"

Brenda: "Hahaha you're suppose to throw the empty bottles to the children, Eleeza."

Me: "??"

(Here I'm trying to figure out why throwing bottles at little children is okay.)

Brenda: "..So they can carry water and gasoline in them!!"

Though a failed attempt, I tried to defend myself: "Wait, what?! Brenda! You didn't tell me there was a strategy?! You just told me to throw it!"

..The whole car continued to laugh, and they didn't stop laughing for quite some time.

This is a perfect example of how communication works here in the 'Ganda.

Because everyone speaks English, everyone subconsciously believes that they'll always be understood.

Au contraire, dear friend.

Fact: There are approximately 42 miscommunications between any given muzungu* and Ugandan each hour.

Gotta love the 'Ganda.

-- EPP

*muzungu = a "silly white person in Africa"

Orphans, Kingdoms by Brooke Fraser

It’s been quite a while.

It’s been quite a while since I’ve had anything excite me enough to put myself through writing a blog.

Haha.. feel loved! This is for you.

Let me begin by saying, unfortunately, I was not blessed with Mary Lee’s ability to put down in words exactly how/what I’m feeling. Bear with me, and when you get bored, tuck the page away and pull it out later. It’ll still be there.

I am working with the most pleasant people I think I have ever met. No exaggeration. I’ve always wondered what those kind of people looked like – “pleasant people.” Now I know. Walter, Brenda, and Christopher are archetypes. Brenda and Walter are the two social workers that handle the.. social.. issues here in Gulu, and Christopher is our driver. Gosh, they are SUCH joys. All are young 30somethings, and are so welcoming. The moment they met me they explained to me that I was part of the staff, and that that was how they were going to treat me. Brenda is constantly watching out for me, Walter is constantly picking on me (I return the favor – don’t worry), and Christopher NEVER. STOPS. LAUGHING. He finds joy in the lamest things hahaha.. He’s hilarious. He can make straight-faced guards laugh. All three of them try to include me in every conversation (even the ones they accidentally have in Acholi (their tribal tongue)), and both Brenda and Walter love being social workers. Those of you who know how my last year of schooling went, this is so Good for me. ALL this to say, I am not at all upset about spending the majority of my time with these three people. I work with them Tuesday-Thursday and may have other random times I’m partnered with them for meetings throughout the week. Watoto has bent over backwards to try and open every door I’ve asked them to. An example would be getting the opportunity to work with their trauma team for a two-week escapade (if I wish to stay the whole time). What happens here is a team of four or five men and women enter an IDP (internally displaced persons) camp and walk through a three-hour a day, two-week rehabilitation program for FAPs (formerly abducted persons) and WACs (war affected children). I. CANNOT. WAIT. I’ll also be joining their discipleship team, which follow up with the IDP camp two months after the trauma team does their thing. They call this two-week program “Empowerment.” And they do just that. Their desire coming in is to help these boys and girls move from a place of victimization to a place where they stand on the realization that through Christ they have been perfectly equipped for every good work, and that our God is a Father that has a heart to protect and heal. I am anticipating both of these experiences being some of the top highlights from this trip. Once again, all this to say, Watoto has been phenomenal. So phenomenal I might just end up writing a separate blog solely about them.

My time here is split between socially working Ugandans and helping out in the baby’s home (babes 0-2). The time I spend in the baby’s home has been great, but is incredibly exhausting, and has, without a doubt, served as the most effective form of birth control humanly possible. Was that dramatic enough? The upside: I have never “gotten” so many fat legs (Donna Papp) and butt cheeks before. I have no idea what the baby nannies think of me.

I am learning and experiencing and thinking about so much. I suppose a good place to begin would be similarities and differences between the ‘Ganda (Bella) and the States. Honestly I don’t think I have ever been in a country so far away that was so much like the States before. That may blow your mind (it did mine), but if you think about it the only real similarities between the UK and the States are skin color and amount of wealth. Here in Uganda they share the same traditions, humor, love, and joys with the States. It’s weird. One of the largest differences (besides men bathing in their yards), is how “okay” things are here. For instance, there is a piece of Watoto called Living Hope that provides women with job training so that they can be self-sufficient (It. Is. Awesome. Over 900 women being helped). As we approached the complex Walter was giving me the lowdown on what actually goes on there. I saw the women laying, what looked like, homemade paper out in the sun to dry so I asked Walter about it:

Me: “Walter, are they making their own paper?! How cool?!”

Walter: “Oh, no those are sanitary napkins.”

Me: “Those are what?”

Walter: “Sanitary napkins.”

Me: “Those are what?”

Walter: “Sanitary napkins.”

Yes, ladies and gentlemen, the Living Hope ladies make sanitary napkins for women’s periods (plus dolls and headbands, but neither of those are particularly exciting). When Walter finished telling me about it, I told him that we don’t publicly speak about periods in the States (at least not in mixed company). He asked me why not and then continued on to tell me that periods are just a normal, everyday part of life here. He said, “Women here, if they are on their periods, will openly talk about it. Like if a woman were to take a boda-boda (motorcycle -- public transportation) and didn’t want to straddle the seat, she would just tell the driver, “I’m on my period; I want to sit sidesaddle.”

Needless to say, my jaw dropped.

Speaking of boda-bodas, go google image what one of those looks like. If the driver is wearing or carrying a helmet, just pretend that’s not in the photo. These are what we drive around town. Three of us can fit on one – two passengers and the driver. Today I accidentally got off the side with the exhaust pipe and burnt the bagoogoos out of my calf. Not a bad burn, just a big burn. It was dumb. I was embarrassed. I tried to play it off as I limped away. Haha.

Couple other randoms:

1. I work with Australians and a Welsh woman, and let’s just say, the Australians are complimenting my attempt at their accent (I won’t mention the fact that the Welsh woman can’t understand one word I attempt in hers).

2. I’m getting tanner…er, well… It might just be a layer of irremovable dirt. Regardless, I’m getting darker.

3. I was just informed that we’ve run out of water at the house and when I asked the next time we’ll have it, the response I received was, “The next time the good Lord provides it!” Gotta love the 'Ganda. Electricity and water are not always a given.

Alright. That's all I've got for now. I'm sure you're relieved.

Love you all.

Ps – Song title: Orphans, Kingdoms is by Brooke Fraser and has stayed on repeat in head since the moment I arrived in Gulu (I hear the word “orphan” about 0874567 times each day).

Pps – Happy early birthday to my baby sisters who won’t be babies come June 10^th! Woot for the big 1-8!! Love you two so much.

Communication by MAE.

Two tiny thoughts --

Thought #1:

The job I've specifically been assigned down here in Haiti demands a great deal of creativity. Not just creative thinking -- I mean like artsy kind of creativity. I'm not sure you're aware, but it is waay hard to perform creatively on demand. A couple of really great things that have already come from this experience though is that a) I will now make sure not to pursue a job that will require creativity on the spot/by deadline, and b) in this situation, I have to completely rely upon the Lord to give me ideas/the ability to create these projects (not only create them, but make them AIM quality). If He wants it done, He'll have to do it! And He'll get all the glory.

Thought #2:

Around 3pm, the temperature indoors reached nearly 467545 degrees.. so I had to get out of my saun--ahem-- I mean, room. The "living room" is known for being the coolest room in the house, and this afternoon it did not disappoint (it was only 467542 degrees..)! I entered and let out a sigh of relief, but by the time that I had taken a seat my body had already adjusted to the temperature in the room. I was hot again.. Already.

This got me thinking about how rarely I'm grateful for the little things the Lord gives me. He provided me a cooler room, and it was nice for a moment. Then I wanted one cooler. And such is life... my life, at least. But not for long! I'm going to start making an effort to be thankful even for the tiniest of things... like this girl -- check out this blog. Then die laughing: www.thxthxthx.com. Amen!

All My Devotion by Kristene Mueller.

Hello, friends! I hope you're all doing well!

You're probably wondering what that blog title means. Well, whenever I write I turn on one song and play it on repeat until I'm finished. Today the song was All My Devotion by Kristene Mueller. So if you so desire, you can play it while you read, and thus experience this blog entry in all its entirety. Also, at this time it would be only reasonable to warn you that blogging is not my thing. Maybe by the time I finish here God will have developed within me a deep passion for blogging.. till then though, I'm sorry! You've been warned. This post may also be a little dryer than most because I'll be using it specifically to answer questions you guys have asked, and to lay out basic information.

I'm working with an organization called AIM in Port-au-Prince, Haiti. After having spent a couple of weeks here in February, the leaders of that trip asked me to pray about coming back down to Haiti and joining them on staff for the summer. I prayed about it, and here I am! I've been here a week and will probably stay in these here parts till July (I'm not 100% on that yet though).

As for filling you in, I'll start with the basics. Many of you have asked what I'm specifically doing here. That should be an easy question to answer, and for right now it is, but truthfully I have a feeling it will look different every week I'm here.

Among many things, AIM (Adventures in Missions) is attempting to meet the "felt needs" of the community in order to build relationships, and ultimately share the love of Christ with them. Much of our focus has been on equipping and empowering the Haitians to do the work necessary to rebuild their own country. The last thing we would want to do would be to further enable Haiti's dependency upon other nations to carry them through.

Because the rainy season is beginning, everyone has frantically been trying to find tarps, cardboard, ANYTHING they can use to create some sort of shelter. We've been working with tent communities - teaching them how to make solid, sturdy posts, and then we teach them how to tarp those posts. They come up with the sticks/beams and we provide the tarps. 1.3 million people were displaced in the earthquake, and those people have been living in makeshift homes, more often than not, consisting of four twigs and sheet. We asked the people of these communities what they needed most and they said tarps. We asked the pastors what they needed most and they said discipleship... which leads me to my next point...

The people here are so hungry for the Lord -- it's unreal. Many of you know, but for those of you who don't, the overall church in Haiti has MORE than doubled since 01/12/10. The actual church buildings aren't big enough to hold the crowds that come on Sunday mornings. From where we stay you can hear hundreds of people singing during the night services throughout the week. 42,000 Haitians have become members of the Baptist denomination alone. We stayed with one pastor who came back after his Sunday morning service with tears of joy in his eyes and said, "I have a whole new congregation to lead."

As I said in my previous post, the harvest is ripe. SO ripe. Now it's just a matter of letting the Lord be our leader and our complete motivation. His love compels, and if we're not working out of the overflow of that love in our hearts, what are we trying to offer?

interesting observations from this chapter's cessation.

observation #1:

i have never been more deeply loved or cared for by those around me than the moment i stopped looking for it in them, and started looking for it in Him. i am so profoundly loved that it fills me to the brim.

i've also never been more uplifted or affirmed by those around me than when i stopped looking for it from them, and started acknowledging who it is that the Lord says i am.

it's interesting how love and affirmation from the Body come in expendable amounts when they're no longer the things that make or break your world.

observation #2:

this time last week i was in Haiti. i was surrounded by death, dehydration, heartbreak and starvation. i was also surrounded by a people group more hungry for the Lord than any i had ever seen. the harvest is more than ready in Haiti, and this time next month i will be down there again, working the fields. the Haitian nation is His, and He has come to claim it.

[Rescue is coming.]

during my time there, i found myself thinking and believing that, at this moment, Haiti was THE most hapless, helpless country in the entire world. i had never seen people worse off or more broken. "destitute" does not begin to describe the condition of the Haitian people. this also lead me, naturally, to believe that there would be no better place for me to exhaust my energy and lifeblood than in Haiti -- fighting and working and loving and leading.

once i got back in the States, i started catching up with people again. i was taken off-guard when 3 out of 4 of the first real conversations i had with friends ended with them in tears (..or almost in tears). after hanging up for the day, i sat down on the couch in shock, taken aback by how much had happened in their lives in the two weeks i'd been gone. i realized then that heartbreak is a universal sentiment, and that the U.S. is just as broken, if not more broken, than Haiti is. while we will never have to worry about finding things such as shelter, food, clothing, or water, our hearts can weigh just as heavily and can become just as downcast here as theirs are there.

i'm fully confident that the Lord wants me, specifically, in Haiti delivering Wholeness to the brokenhearted there, but those here in the U.S. are just as in need of this Deliverance. the only notable difference i can find between the two nations is that Haiti is painfully aware of its need.

being cognizant of such, seemingly, ubiquitous pain UNDENIABLY elicits action on our parts. the question is, are we filled with the Courage and Audacity needed in order to move?

[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.]

thinking through all of this sets me beside myself with excitement.

change is here.

and for the first time, i'm welcoming this old adversary of mine with open arms.

bring. it. on.