I have been grasping for my big girl panties since returning from Haiti last Friday, and they are clearly misplaced, out of reach, too small....gone.
One of my friends called me last night to check in with me after getting a text message from me checking on them (a sure sign the apocalypse is upon us all...I am making a dent in voice mails, e-mails, and text messages). Their first, "How are you?" was like someone had dropped the atom bomb on the Hoover Dam. The slow wait for the bomb to strike, explosion, and then water everywhere...I was a hot mess of tears and emotions. I am confident that they instantly regretted making the call. Bless their hearts. Truly.
This afternoon I am sitting in the lobby of my favorite doctor's waiting room for my six month check-up appointment. I am struck looking around this packed space at how blessed I am to be healthy (barring any surprises from my blood work today) and that I have access to heath care. I can't help thinking of this little boy named Wood who I met in Haiti at a school we visited on the coast. He was obviously sick and too weak even to feed himself. He crawled into my arms, and I proceeded to get water and snacks into him. One bite at a time. One drink at a time. It broke my heart.
When I said good-bye, I found myself trying to be brave as I packed his sister's backpack with water and snacks. I then gave extra hugs and kisses. As I watched them walk down the dusty path towards their home, I fell apart, and bless my friend who just let me cry. I am still haunted by thoughts of did someone tuck him into bed that night, tend to his fever, is he okay??? I don't know that I will ever forget his face. I pray not.
This girl is struggling. I am struggling to digest and understand all that I witnessed. I am struggling to grasp even a teeny tiny bit of control over my emotions. I am struggling to not bore my friends and family with stories from my trip....worried I will talk too much, start blubbering uncontrollably (already happened three times), or wear out the patience of people who love me and have patiently walked with me this past year as Haiti has broken me again and again, and now a third time. Will I wear out their patience with me? I worry.
I struggle to find words. How do I properly paint the picture of the beauty beyond words coupled by heartbreak that took my breath? How do I do all of that justice? I want to be fair to the gift I received in being allowed access to so much...experiencing so much. I also need to tell more of Tacura's story. A story that is showing me yet another layer of the complicatedness that is Haiti. Solving the problems there is not as simple as throwing more money at the problems, adoption, more people helping, etc. Haiti needs to be addressed with a scalpel not a machete. I problem-solve for a living. I am struggling with not only how to discern all of that knowledge, but how I can be of use...am I to be of use? Where is God in it? Where is God in my own story? What does God want me to learn and discern in all of this?
Questions? Questions? Questions?
Where are the answers???
In time. Get ready. Stop worrying. The whispers of my soul...
I think this post is about me asking for grace from all of you. This is also a post where I ask for prayers.
When I was a little kid, there was this spinning disc thing at the park. It had bars on it that someone or many would hold onto, run as fast as we could, and then jump on, and then lay down while the whole world spun above us. It was exhilarating, and I loved it. The faster the better. A couple of times, I got sick, but it never stopped me from jumping back on and doing it again.
My life feels a lot like that spinning disc. I ran hard, jumped on, and it is moving super fast, the whole world is above and around me, and it is thrilling....but I am feeling a little nauseous. I don't want it to stop, but I do want to throw up every once and awhile to make the ache in my belly go away. Then, I will be good to go again.
Let me be clear. My life is JUST like that spinning disc thingy right now.
In an hour, or three, the doctor will call me back to give me my blood work results. He will kiss me on the forehead. Yell at me about going to Haiti (not a fan of overseas travel). Give me a grade (A+ - F) for my results. Hug on me. Send me on my way.
I don't want to love on these adults and children in Haiti, hug them, encourage them, and then move on with my life. I want to be a part of the solution, move the needle, make a real difference...what does that look like for me? my life?
James 4. #mindblown
Sometimes when God reveals to you a new passion, buried passions, dreams, etc...he goes slowly, peeling it all back one layer at a time. To show us everything would scare us silly and...Take. Us. Out. Jen Hatmaker refers to it as pulling the string. My string has been pulled. Clearly. 😳
My challenge to each of you is to pull on the string in your own life. What is the dream you have always held close? What scares you to death? Who has been pestering you to go somewhere...try something? Take a deep breath. Acknowledge that these are hints. Jump out there. One ticket. Push that disc thing, run hard, then jump on, and ride. Arms wide open, spinning, gut churning...Live. ❤️☀️
*By the way, I went to Google and the disc thing is called a roundabout. 😜
Sunshine Dreams to You ~ Today and Every Day! :)