brave

From any outside perspective, the mob was pure chaos.  

Anger filled the faces of the men and women around me, sweat was pouring, I was continually being shoved from behind and beside, enraged words pouring out.  Several children on the other side of the iron gate were bawling, tears mixing with the sweat pouring down their faces, reaching frantically through the bars, screaming "MAMA!  MAMAAA!"

From any insider perspective?  It was just picking the kids up from school.

As you learn the culture, you realize that "mildly frustrated" manifests itself in Haiti as expressions of extreme anger, irate words, arms thrown up in disgust.  What looks and sounds like a heated argument between two women is just bargaining for a 5 cent mango.  We are a dramatic land with dramatic articulation.

As you learn the language, you realize that the screams around you are just complaints in a country full of injustices trying to be heard, you realize that half the crowd is making jokes, realize that everything is ok, after all.

The school is trying to beef up security, making sure that ribboned toddlers aren't being sent off with strangers, aren't being snatched up by passerbys.  It's exactly what we parents WANT them to do, except that the sun is hot and the week was long and the kids are crying and everyone just wants to go home.

And the gate is huge, and if open, a hundred kids run with no possible knowledge of whom they are going with, and if closed, no one is going anywhere....where we were now.

Standing on my tiptoes, pushed to the back of the crowd, I look over the parents through the bars to the sea of blue and white uniforms, searching for Lily's pale face.  I finally find her, relieved that she is happy and chatting, and she sees me and lights up.  

She's ready to come, I'm ready to hold her, but there are still 300 kids, an iron gate, and 100 parents between us.

I cringe, knowing that while my five years and Lily's three years in Haiti make all this a normal day, to my papa sitting in the car behind me, this must look like complete and total violent madness.  

A group of moms around me cluck like hens and say under their breath, "If only these people would learn some discipline!  If everybody would just wait two seconds the kids could come out one by one without problem!  Somebody's gonna get hurt, and what then!"

I nod my head in agreement and they smile.  We're just moms, trying to do the very best for our children, sweating, agreeing, waiting patiently at the back.

To my surprise, Lily is not so timid.  She dives right in towards Azi, they grab sweaty grimy hands and--grinning all the way--beeline through the crowd for the gate.  Miss Emmanuella sees them, locates me, and shoves them through the gate to the parent side...the parents who are still yelling and shoving.

But you know what?  Lily and Azi, they just didn't even mind one bit.  They've been there before!  They go to the market, they've been in church, they've been to town.  (It was Lily, after all, who sang Hakuna Matata at the top of her lungs the day we were very stuck in the middle of a very scary riot.)

To my total surprise, they just wove and bumped and prodded until they reached me, and then Lily pulled me down to her level, grins animatedly and dramatically sighs, "I was being squashed like a fish in there, mom!  Did you see that?  Oooo, oh!  Can I have a popsicle?"

What would have completely appalled and probably terrified most adults from my culture was a joke and a shrug to my three-year old, whom, I was reminded again, is from a different culture than I am.

When I left her at school this morning, hiccuping tears, I was worried that this plan to help her adjust to and take part in and ENJOY this culture was a flop.

 "Worried", like fretted all day.  "Worried", like emailed my closest friends and begged for their help and prayers.  "Worried" like KNEW that Lily could NOT do it, that there was NO way good could come.

When I handed her a goat milk popsicle this afternoon and heard her exuberant stories from the day, I realized that I have got to trust Him...He is at work.  

And this work?  It may not be for the timid or the fearful at heart.  This might require bravery--His work--sometimes.

I was reminded  am reminded that I am often in need of seeing things from a different perspective...of letting God hold my heart and boldly step out on my trust in Him.  Of waiting, and resting in Him, and letting Him shape and mold my perspective....on life, on trials, on others.

We don't need to be stupid.  And I'm not saying we should all jump out there being brave for braveness sake.  But I realized standing there with Lily that perhaps I have missed playing a part in things He would do because I always lean towards security and comfort, always lean towards my first perspective over boldness and braveness and an attempt at His.  

Perhaps there are some Goliaths to face.  Maybe some battles.  Maybe some huge oppositions.  Maybe a major forgiveness.  Maybe a wildly unpopular stand.  Maybe a painful sacrifice.  Maybe a crowd to pass through.

And maybe that's EXACTLY what He has for us.