ups and downs

Every part of every day has been full of extreme ups and extreme downs.  

Since the end of January, a wave of extreme brutality has led to widespread loss of life and the displacement of over 6,000 people in the capital, Port-au-Prince...120 miles from where my children are softly snoring, right now. Cap-Haitian is overrun by families running for their lives, Emmaus hosting several students who came with absolutely nothing but the clothes on their backs. Their stories these last few days are so incredibly painful and scary. 

And, also today little Emma in braided pigtails sat in a bucket of cool water in the sunshine and sucked on warm, sweet mangoes, watching the students play soccer at the base of our mountain...just like Lily did, and Sofie, and Nora, and Ben. 

At the end of a long day of interviews with staff (what's going on at Emmaus and in Haiti and how can I beg The Church to come alongside?) and with students (why did you decide to go into ministry, and how is Emmaus forming you and the Lord filling you?), I needed to sit in that evening breeze with her and slow it all down. 

Granny's son, Bedwell, brought Gran's grandbabies, Prince Lou and Daiashka, to spend the afternoon, and I wanted to tell them all about what she meant to us, and how she loved my children, and how she pointed me to Jesus so many times. Instead, they ate cookies and chased frisbees with Ben and Emma and I MISSED her. Being in Haiti with her family without HER finally settled in today that Granny is no longer a part of our lives...just a part of us. What a good GOOD gift she was, Giselaine. I hate how she suffered. and I am grateful for how it only seemed to strengthen her joy and trust. 

Lily and Sofie played with their friends from the Haitian school they attended in braids and navy uniforms on Mondays, Wednesdays and Fridays. They're all awkward teenagers now...too cool for school the first hours and then giggling like school girls by the end and exchanging WhatsApp's. 

We sit around the dinner table, pancake mix and scrambled eggs, and pray for those who do not have food...100 feet from where we sit....and it puts a pit in my stomach and dampens the meal.

One staff friend told me today that many people in Haiti are here in body only. Their minds and their hearts are traumatized, dull, despairing and done. They are only here because they canNOT leave, and have totally given up on any hope, any will to BE the change, any desire to give or help or grow.  Most just stick to the broken and violent and corrupt paths the country has already often chosen, waiting for "God to intervene" without being willing to be one He intervenes THROUGH.

Nora plays with Joel like they've never been apart, Emma clings to Tati Gertha like she's always been her nanny and dear friend, Lily's on the porch handwashing her clothes and laughing with Christie, and I share funny stories with Sharon and she with me of students throughout the day.

One moment I am heavy with how broke broke, needy and despairing it is...the next I see truth and character and wisdom from a godly staff member we've known for almost 15 years and I am flooded with hope. If there IS any change, it will be coming through Emmaus. I have seen and see TRANSFORMED, and if there IS a place discipling people for TRUE change and freedom in Haiti, it. is. here.  I am flooded with confidence of this again and again this week, even as I cringe at the suffering of the crosses that must be carried.  

Student after student tells me the same thing. I have never been a place in Haiti my whole life where you could leave your cell phone on the table and it will still be sitting there when you come back. I have never been a place where people treat each other with respect and love. I have never heard of a person with a master's or a doctorate or a teacher or administrator who treats you like a brother or sister, not like an invisible lowlife. 

This is what they love about Emmaus....this is what they learn and live for four years...this is how they go out...this is simply God's law, and this is how things change. 

And Ger brought Sharon guava and Lily marinade and Sofia sugar-cane to gnaw and Ben another bucket of sweet mangoes, Nora her Haitian breakfast spaghetti and Emma, sos pwa...the dark chocolate-looking bean and garlic sauce she was spooning all the kids at a few months old.  La vie cher....life is so expensive...and she is a new widow, and yet she knows us and loves us well and tirelessly gives...and fights me on taking a few dollars to cover the Haitian treats she knows we adore and miss.

It is a dusty mess of violence and insecurity and of breath-taking beauty and barefoot, penniless pastors playing soccer in the wet grass. It is hunger and need and every Christian family I visit has extra children and widows and friends and family under their roofs, eating their little food, sharing with one another as if it all were the Lord's. It is sweaty and dusty and broke, and palm trees and crystal Caribbean and humble all at once...and most everyone just wants no fear of tomorrow and enough food for today.

I wonder if we spend so much time and energy managing our blessings and don't spend enough time and energy outpouring them. 

It's heavy, breezy days of ups and downs to ash heaps. I know He comes down to those. I beg He comes down to those. May He lift us out, Ayiti cheri. 

Lord, use these men and women. Lord, if you will, use me.