Haiti for the win

When we sat the kids down to tell them we would be moving (not realizing it would be much sooner than we had thought) Lily asked if we could work hard to make sure things didn't change.

There was most of Haiti she didn't want to part with, not ever.

We asked her what she was desperate to stay the same, and she didn't mention the weather or the beach or the house or the pets. 

She wanted to know all of our neighbors and have them over regularly. She envisioned a continually crowded table with people from all walks of life. She wanted to be involved in students lives, helping those around us, being a part of life-on-life ministry. 

I remember telling her that America wasn't like that, wasn't like Haiti.

And that's been true, really true. And Mississippi, in 2020, is not like the America we left in 2007, either.

But I promised her we would try.

There were many times in Haiti when we could sense that we weren't saying something quite right, or weren't culturally behaving "normally",  and we always fell back on the foreigner card.

"As you know, we're not from here! I'm so sorry if we're not doing this quite right! Please forgive us, but..."

And so with same words on our lips, we have been trying. 

Trying for Lily, and trying to be faithful to what was God-honoring about the community culture we come from. 

In church today as I was thinking back on this busy, hospitatlity-y week, I realized how much the community culture of Haiti in our genes has given us, in America.  We've had a lot of lonely and frustrating and hurtful experiences, but we came so preconditioned for community that we just won't give up. 

I know we're the weird family in our neighborhood, but Friday night I also realized that it's where everyone comes. I know a lot of our down-time is neighbor/community/friend/stranger time instead, but nothing builds relationships like down-time. 

Monday night reminded me how life-giving it is to be inspired by the stories of others, what they have been through, how they have been faithful, where they have failed, watching them love Jesus, wanting to then love Him better. 

Tuesday night reminded me that so much of our family time is with other families, a lot of our kid time with a lot of extra kids, but we all fall into bed rich and good-weary because of it. 

Thursday afternoon reminded me that our struggles are never just ours, that even when we are being ministered to, there is ministry to be done. Even bouncing a baby to rest a young mother fills our own hands with precious life. 

I know getting to know people has been hard, but man, Saturday night reminded me that stretching out always results in growth, that stepping out in faith often results in finding someone else already standing there. Tonight reminded me that getting past "new" eventually results in quiet Sabbath family.

We have found people like us, people not like us at all. We have found people who speak our language, who make us laugh out loud, people who don't know Jesus and people who push us toward Him. We've found people we want to do more with, people we want to share our kids with, people we want to minister to, people we want to minister with. We've been challenged from places we never expected and convicted by perspectives we've never considered.  

It could all be exhausting, but instead, life-on-life has been giving us life. All of us. 

And through all these people, through tiny, unexpected, still, small voices, the Lord has begun to speak again.

I suppose He never stopped. 

But through people--even those who have no idea the significance of what they are saying--His Word, His peace, His questions, His prompting, His care...it comes.

Community.

Haiti told us there was no other way.

And she is right.