one of them

I know life is hard everywhere, it truly is. 

But it's just been catching up on me a bit here lately as Haiti struggles, as her people struggle. No easy answers, no quick fixes, no light at the end of the tunnel but for His.

The value of the Haitian gourdes continues to drop. Drastically so. The exchange that was 75 gdes to the American dollar in January is 87 today. If the station has fuel when you pass, you STOP and get some, because next time, next station, it WON'T.  A missions trip that cost us $200 to feed 15 students last summer is costing $400 today.

This serious stuff plays out desperately.

A few weeks ago several money-changers on the street were murdered, just for the cash in their hands. Monday morning Gertha's cousin (a security guard at the Bethesda clinic) was shot three times on his moto-taxi route and left for dead, just for the motorcycle. It didn't used to be. 

Add in lots of little sicknesses (Lily's dear friend who needs four teeth pulled, is in agony, and yet it costs a full month's salary to do...so she suffers), injustices (our government school teacher friends who haven't been paid in four months, and have children, and bills, but no hope of a job if they quit), pains (another dear student and his wife lost another baby) and problems (how. do. you. physically. feed. your. family. when it's costing double and you're making the same), it's so easy to miss His light at the end of the tunnel.

I find myself sitting with my girls quietly on the couch under the fan in the late afternoon, reading about the formation of the Constitution with them and remembering together when we toured Independence Hall. I cherish the sweet moments...and all the while feeling the familiar quiet currents of...pain. of Guilt. of Broken.

Why are we getting to do this? Sit quietly together in our clean, strong house with our fridge full of food and the washing machine whirring in the background and a car sitting out front, with children who have been taught to read and go to school and eat their snacks and have books galore. 

Why do we have cold, clean water to drink and a clean bed, one for for each and every person, and vitamins in the cabinet and computers in our backpacks and phones on the nightstand and degrees in our pockets?

When I talk to my children about God's beautiful plans for them, about the hopes of their futures, I think about so many little ones I see and even love, daily, and wonder. Wonder at what doesn't look much like a beautiful plan for them. Wonder at what doesn't FEEL like much of a future.

As we see tensions rising again, Haiti nearing a full-out crisis again, political instability rumbling, violence climbing, I selfishly feel fear in my chest and I wonder how our little family could make it through another incredibly stressful and tense season like February and March.

I wonder about me.  

And it's NOT.

What about everyone who CAN'T stock up on food...which is ALMOST EVERYONE? What about 99.9 % of everyone who doesn't have solar panels? What about every mother whose children's future is tied completely to what happens with and in THIS COUNTRY?  What about every person who doesn't have a bank account lot-bo, who doesn't have a passport, who doesn't have family and friends in other places, who doesn't have a security guard keeping watch all night? What about our students, what about our friends, what about our Haiti family??

Once again, once again, Stacey is a 100 conflicting things, and I can't reconcile it all. 

It's an uncomfortable place to sit.  

Our family leaves in 2 weeks for 6 weeks for the first time in 45 weeks. Instead of Americans in Haiti, we'll be Haitians in America and all the reverse conflicting stuff that brings, and we'll have good food that 2 of us appreciate and good homes thanks to many and good work and good play and I will breath deeply and rest in the first season in a LONG TIME to not be concerned about currency and road blocks and going out at night...and I will breath those sweet moments with praise and pain and prayers.

I can do all I can and we DO, but I cannot make it all work neatly. I cannot change very much. I cannot help every way. I cannot fix many real problems. 

I cannot pray peace over my healthy, fed, educated, sleeping children in their clean beds under the sweet breath of a fan in the sweltering night without tears springing to my eyes over the many mothers all around me all around the world praying desperate. I cannot pray for my own without praying desperate for many others.

And I guess we're not supposed to.  

Oswald Chambers, for the win again today.  He's not settling any of my jumble, not settling any of my problems. But with the Word, he strips it all away as he points to the cross, just the cross, just to Christ. 

God is not concerned about our plans; He doesn’t ask, “Do you want to go through this loss of a loved one, this difficulty, or this defeat?” 

No, He allows these things for His own purpose. The things we are going through (in Haiti, in the world, in our lives!) are either making us sweeter, better, and nobler men and women, or they are making us more critical and fault-finding, and more insistent on our own way. 

The things that happen either make us evil, or they make us more saintly, depending entirely on our relationship with God and its level of intimacy. If we will pray, regarding our own lives, “Your will be done” (Matthew 26:42), then we will be encouraged and comforted by John 17, knowing that our Father is working according to His own wisdom, accomplishing what is best. When we understand God’s purpose, we will not become small-minded and cynical. 

Jesus prayed nothing less for us than absolute oneness with Himself, just as He was one with the Father. Some of us are far from this oneness; yet God will not leave us alone until we areone with Him— because Jesus prayed, “…that they allmay be one….”

I may have, I may be, 100 conflicts...but am I absolutely one with Him?  

We each may have a 100 reasons for fear and bitterness and worry, but will it render us bitter and evil, or will we be found sweet and saintly?

I am utterly humbled to find so many sweet and saintly deeply hurting people in my life. I cannot name them all.

Darn it, I will be one of them.