the ayars affairs

 It's just been a rough-ity week...and if I think so, you should talk to Haiti. Praying with them through the deepening crisis is heavy. It's heavy heavy when I know...when I know what's behind all my prayers. When I know the heaviness in the pit of your stomach, when I feel it now, even praying. When darkness deepens and the very few things you have pinch tighter and tighter.  When fuel - the life breath to so much - isn't just scarce, it's gone gone. When stories of fuel truck drivers being kidnapped and murdered abound, and there are no simple solutions nor any possible visible way out...and no leader or help on the horizon. 

As I pray I can smell the fumes and feel the cool, echoing metal of our almost empty fuel tank, many times tracing it's bumpy surface as we prayed for fuel. It was bad then, those days. It is far worse now, school and work going from hard to impossible, solar power for Emmaus being such sweet grace and survival...no fuel affecting every element of life, from prices to students coming and going to professors, to schools for children, to security, to cell phones. No transportation and no power and no communication all from no fuel... It isn't good.

Praying for Haiti, praying for her people, is the undercurrent of all we do. Our hearts are heavy over breakfast, praying for Sam and Joel unable to go to school, praying for Claudin, unable to take his children. Praying for Gertha, unable to get a ride to market, or to buy the little she normally could if she walks. Praying at bedtime for Emmaus, hearing the crickets and the voodoo drums, listening to the silence of an empty generator, feeling the weight of so many huge problems.

Add in here-and-now life...with deeply hurting friends and family I care for, further hopeless feeling situations, ridiculously dramatic toddlers and constantly overflowing dryers and dishwashers and school bins, add in little hurts, little jabs, little frustrations, little pinches, little wrongs...a sick kiddo, a cloudy sky, a dreary day, a hard phone call, a broken plate. 

honest? I've been having trouble getting moving this week. The weight is dragging down my frame, and I'm TIRED like I never am.  And so much feels too lost for help. Too far for the light at the end of the tunnel to matter. Too deep for words of comfort...there are none but prayer. 

Micah says that there is power in persistent prayer.

I'm gonna trust that that means the courageous, inspired and powerful persistent prayers...and also the rather pathetic and weary persistent ones.