scattered minds, scattered prayers

 The last few weeks have felt very out of body. I've been teaching the kiddos and washing dishes and mopping floors and driving to gymnastics and spending time with family-friends and reaching out to neighbors and community...buying cereal and reading children's books...and all the while underneath is this heavy awareness and pang in my heart. 

There were seasons in Haiti when things were so bad, so stressful, so unknown, that you kind of lived life with a rock in your throat and a stone in your stomach...positive for your children, whispers with your neighbor, prayers long into the inky nights, peace in waves and fighting fear in waves, but that tightness in my stomach never faded. 

Call it past traumatic experiences surfacing or call it a heart engrained with our friends and family in Haiti, I don't know, but it's been hard to breathe these weeks as I pray for those who are struggling to breathe. Hard to shake that heavy cloud as I pray for those in the middle of the heavy cloud.

Everyone wants to know if we know any of the 17 missionaries still being held today. They were kidnapped in the very area we lived and worked when I lived and worked with CSI in Port-au-Prince, the Haiti trips before Matt with the Bensons. Most of the missionaries are from not far from where I lived in Ohio. One of them is the cousin of one of you dear readers. 

But no, I don't. 

What I know is that we've all been in bad spots, sometimes from unwise decisions and sometimes just by being in a unstable country like Haiti. There hasn't been a night that I've fallen asleep dry eyed as I pray for those missionaries, especially the mama with her young ones...so often having been HER.  Keeping up their courage...holding on to your own, fighting to example what you've taught, fighting for faith over fear. No matter WHAT perhaps unwise decisions they made, there is a mama with her littles being threatened with the death of her children, and I fall asleep praying for her, imagining just what her situation is like right now, and wake up with prayers still on my lips. 

HUNDREDS, over 700 Haitians have been kidnapped since January, most of those in the last months since the president was assassinated as he slept. I have heard and read dozens of stories of so many mamas  whose children were snatched from front yards and school yards, their bodies returned days later when they couldn't pay the ransoms. Dozens of stories of doctors and pastors and housewives taken and killed. Taken and abused. Taken and returned, never the same. 

Seventeen missionaries are currently kidnapped, and so are many, many of our Haitian brothers and sisters, and their faces are just hounding me as I wash the crumbs from Ben's sticky face, as I clap for Lily 'cross the finish line, as I fold little socks, so many without a partner. 

Every day, the texts pour in from our missionary and Haitian friends in the North...six hours from most of the horrors...far enough to to sleep. Close enough to all be staying home. Fuel being blocked by gangs and cut off from the North has everyone in a past-desperate situation. Gangs running the country since the president's murder has everyone on edge and feeling hopeless.  Having no governement, no law force, no accountability, no leadership, no army, no help, has our friends sick over the future busily being destroyed for their children.

Our friends are discouraged. They are horrified. They are burdened. They are angry. They are heavy.  They are deeply sad.

And they are tired.

Of course the other question coming in strong is more of a statement: "Of course you will NOT be going to Haiti in November anymore....right?!"

A week ago I would have said, of course we are. I don't know what I'll say next week when it's time to head. 

Today I am settling on the truth, "We are talking to trusted, wise men and women on the ground in our part of Haiti every day and we are praying for His wisdom, His peace, and His clear direction."

What happens in these many kidnapping cases is and will affect all of Haiti. What happens in this missionary kidnapping case will especially affect all foreigners. Increased and justified and intensified protesting over all the lawlessness, injustice, blockages of needed resources and bullying of the gangs is not only necessary, but are also increasingly dangerous for EVERYONE.  Fighting for massive change is a FIGHT, and the cost is steep, the cost is steep. Pray for our brothers and sisters fighting. 

Emmaus is very anxious to have us come and they need help and support. I have a million questions for them, and they have a thousand stories to tell, and I need to be there to do that.

You know this about me: I am a helper, to a fault.  When someone is hurting, I want to help. I will do just about anything to do so. When someone is asking for help, oh man, ten times moreso. When many someones we deeply love are really hurting and really asking for help: you get the picture.

Our dear friends and neighbors and their three little boys are there, at Emmaus...I have their Christmas presents to carry in, their best friends to carry them, and some badly needed community...just by being US. I have hundreds of Gospel players in my closet to carry in for Jodenel and all the students involved in evangelizing throughout Haiti, even for the many who cannot read and are desperate for the Gospel. I'm anxious to hand these baby clothes to Naomi and finally snuggle her new baby girl, I'm anxious to sit with Claudin and his children, I'm anxious to pray with Dr. President Guenson and to hear his heart and perspective, I'm anxious to snuggle our goddaughter Yasha and love on her mom and dad, and I am anxious to sit with our students, with our staff, to worship together, to pray together for dear Haiti, and to hear and cherish and share their stories. I wanna sit with our neighbors, who have lived a lot of life in the past months, and talk to Shelley 'till we run out of words (which, admittedly, has never happened.) I raised four children from birth to 11, 9, 5 and 2 with Gertha...I am anxious to hold Gertha's hand and to hand her the littles that she loves as her own. I am anxious to sit with Granny until Sofie lets her go.

They are discouraged, they are tired. I cannot do much. I cannot change anything. I am worth NOTHING in this blizzard of brokenness. But I can help, a little. And they need a little help.

Things are changing daily, and so we are waiting on Him, continuing to ask all the hard questions and listen to all the hard answers, and I am blessed to have a core group of men and women, Haitian and American and otherwise, who know, who get it, and who are watching and waiting, too...praying for us and helping us and speaking their hearts and their minds... and in the end we will do what this godly family who loves Haiti and loves us advises. 

I am asking you to join us in praying for Haiti.

***Aside, there have been some sweet and unexpected texts and emails from sweet and unexpected places these past days reminding me simply that they love us, they know our hearts break with Haiti, and they are praying with us. These acknowledgements that these days would be out of body and heavy for us have blessed me deeply, for the Lord has truly given me some rare and unexpected friends who watch the news and pray for the Haitians they know that we love, instead.

***Aside, I am incredibly thankful for a husband and father who loves our Haitian brothers and sisters with me, who prays for wisdom and for courage together, who balances my big heart with his big brain (I need this, often) and who is far more interested in God's perspective than the worlds, on every front. 

***I'm also incredibly thankful for a Sharon in our lives who also loves our Haitian brothers and sisters with us, who also prays first, who is a peace and wisdom speaker in my life, and who doesn't speak peace and wisdom and advice from afar, but comes alongside. Much of my strong belief in comealongsideness comes from Sharon and our NorthRidge family.

***I know this is a scattered post without many answers and I haven't written it 'till now because I knew it would be. These are scattered days!