Peaks and Valleys and Peaks

On mission trips or with youth we always did 'Peaks and Valleys' to debrief our day/week/whatever.  The point is to share your highs and lows with each other.  I'm not going to rehash the peaks and valleys of the last month, because they have been many, and they have been super high and super low. What I will say is that today, I witnessed a dream of mine come to fruition right in front of my face.  For a long time (years long) I've desired to have counseling available for birth moms at the orphanage who have suffered traumas.  I've waited and prayed, and prayed and waited.
Today my friend Holly-a counselor-held her first group therapy session with three beautiful, intelligent young women right here at my house.  Two were part of the group, and the third came later because she wasn't sure about the time.  And then they all proceeded to hang out, talking and laughing like teenage girls should.  I don't know the topics they covered, but I did sneak peeks from behind my curtains, because I just couldn't help myself, to see their sweet faces.  Before they left they asked if they could talk to me.  They just wanted to thank me for this opportunity, and tell me how they are doing.  I sat there in complete awe.  These girls, with events in their lives that should have broken them and kept them down, are fighting against it.  They are going to school.  They recognize the need to be in community, and to share their stories.  They acknowledge that they can't keep it all bottled up and they need some help sorting through it all.
As I sat there looking at them, I thanked them for coming.  I thanked them for spending time in my home.  I told them that they are always ALWAYS welcome here.  If they need a quiet place to study, or to think, or to be alone, they can come here.  I'll leave them alone unless they come get me.  I won't bother them (I'll work really hard at this one).  I told them there is always food they can make (my Haitian food is not really up to their standards yet), and that if they want to be here, they can always come.  I told them I loved them, and then I went to take a nap.
And then I laid there on my bed, unable to sleep.  Giddy with awe and wonder and thankful for God's goodness and provision, and His mercy and His deep deep love for every single one of his children.
Would you pray for these girls?  They have a long road ahead of them, and things in Haiti do not necessarily work to help them succeed.  They are swimming upstream, but oh so determined to reach their goals.  I'm praying that their peaks would see them through their valleys.  Join me?

Because I can

I guess I just have a lot to say lately.  To start on a light note, last Sunday I was watching Home Alone with JM.  Magalitha walked in and exclaimed, "Kevin!", then flopped down and watched it with us.  I found her a few days later watching it on the TV in French.  We are going to watch it again tonight while eating disgusting amounts of popcorn.
On a serious note, I went to IBESR today with Magalitha.  They are the social services of Haiti.  Magalitha and I had talked for a long time about her making an official report since she is still a minor.  I felt like it would be an important step for her, and for me too.  It took a seriously long time for us to get it done, but today was the day.  A very kind woman interviewed her for a long time.  Magalitha shared her complete story with this woman, in an office with no partition, so that the other 4 people working there heard every word.  At times, someone else would chime in a question for her.  I sat outside, watching the scene, and thanking God that He provided a woman interviewer.  Magalitha did a great job.  She didn't melt down in giggles at all.  She looked the woman in the eye.  She spoke her answers loud enough for the interviewer to hear her.  I am so insanely proud of this girl right now I could just give her a big sloppy kiss on her sweet cheek!!  In true Haiti fashion, we had to wait for our copy of the report because the woman who works the copy machine was eating lunch.  So wait we did.  And then the interviewer asked me if I read French.  I said, 'I'm not sure, some days I do.'  And I read every word of that report.  I told her I understood it, and then she asked me to sign as the one who is responsible for this precious 17 year old girl.  And sign I did.  My full legal name.
So tonight we'll celebrate with Kevin, and I might even bust out my secret chocolate stash.
Happy Tuesday!

This and that

• I saw a man on huge stilts the other night.  He was walking down the middle of the road, dancing and doing funny things.  I have never seen anything so funny on my way home!  I ran in the door and called Magalitha, and we went running back down the road to see him.  We finally caught up to him, and she asked me, "Where does he sleep?  How can he lie down?"  Aw, baby girl didn't know his legs were made of wood...I might have laughed.  The security guard tried to explain it to her (after she dismissed my explanation as heresy), but I'm pretty sure she still thinks those were his real legs.
   
• Conversation today about giving Christmas gifts at our Christmas party.  I asked if I should do something small for the two families coming.  I wanted to make a cute bag of delicious Haitian coffee and some Haitian honey.  I have friends here who sell both, and it seemed like the perfect way to do Christmas gifts.  M thought it was hysterical that I wanted to give coffee and honey as Christmas gifts.  She told me that might be fine in the United States, but Haitian people love 'beautiful gifts'.  She said the people would take it, but they wouldn't like it.  I kept asking what they would like, but all she'd say was, 'Not honey and coffee!'  Help a momma out here!  I finally got an answer from someone here washing clothes.  Sheets, towels, a beautiful vase, beautiful dishes, etc.  Ok then.  Not what I had in mind.  I think we'll just stick to having a really nice meal for them.
• Magalitha's teacher liked our gift!  And my finger is healed, hallelujah!
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• I've been craving French toast.  I made it yesterday morning, and then again today.  We don't have powdered sugar, but I do have real French butter.  That's even better.
• JM learned how to eat a pancake roll-up.  You know it sounds fancy.  He thinks it's the greatest thing ever.  And we always 'dunk dunk dunk' in the syrup.  Three times.  No more, no less.
• JM's current favorite words: Owsh (when something hurts), mwen pa vle sa (I don't want that), Miss Angie (he hears the other kiddos call me that, and thinks it's funny.  It was the first 5 times.)

YOJ to all!

Magalitha and Miliene decorated our house for Christmas.  We don't have JOY around here, we have YOJ!  Hope everyone is enjoying whatever weather you've been blessed with!

Scissors, gifts, and trust

Tonight I got home at a decent hour (right at 5 pm).  I stood in the kitchen snarfing some dinner while the little one stayed busy with some pots and pans.  The big one came in and sat down.  That means we need to talk in her language.  So I asked, "What's up?"  Nothing, came the reply.  I should have known that.  Now we start my new favorite game, 1 zillion questions.  I thought 20 questions should do it, but not around here.  So I started by asking what tests she took today (exam week for her), what tests she's taking tomorrow (the last day), and suddenly I heard myself asking if we were supposed to get her teacher a gift.  She ducked her head and said no.  Really?  Do the other kids give the teacher gifts?  Yes, she said, but we don't have money to do that.  Ah.  That again.  So I started looking around the kitchen.  In the states I'd whip up a batch of cookies (or ask a dear friend to do it), and presto!  problem solved.  But I don't have any eggs, flour, or any other cookie ingredients right now.  So I grabbed the leftover bottle of wine from Thanksgiving (how did I have leftover wine???)  She said her teacher might not drink wine.  Right.  Um, how about a Tampico (sugary colored water)?  She laughed.  She said we didn't need to do anything.
Then I realized that we really did.  So I grabbed the only Christmas coffee mug we have, thanks to my friend Michelle.  I said we could put some coffee in it, coffee made by one of our nannies at the o.  She seemed a little ok with that, but not thrilled.  We went upstairs and I began browsing my shelf of books (all in English, why haven't I started reading books in Creole or French yet??), a candle I already started burning, and a cheap package of cookies the little one picked out at the store.  I went to my closet and opened the gifts I bought for my family, and found a small keychain, made of cloth beads forming a cross I bought at Haitian Creations.  I showed Magalitha, and she liked it.  I showed her what to do with it, and then she really liked it.  So I wrapped it nicely in tissue paper and put it in a small Christmas bag.  All the details coming together like I'd planned it for weeks.  But then she hit me with, "And the cup with coffee, where can we put that?"  I thought we'd abandoned that plan, but my sweet girl had her heart set on giving her teacher the coffee and mug and the key chain.  Alrighty then, no problem.  We need a bigger bag.  So I found one (yes, I just randomly have these things in a box) that is lunch bag size with Santa on it.  She loved it.  So I wrapped everything in tissue and placed it in the bag.  I folded the top over and prepared to use scissors to punch  two holes to run ribbon through.  As I slid the scissors through the first time, I realized my left middle finger had been in the direct path of the razor sharp scissors.  I gasped as I realized what I'd done.  I tried to play it off, but dang dootie it hurt.  And it wasn't bleeding yet, so I really tried to just be ok.  I popped it in my mouth, and smiled, sort of hummed a bit of that sound you hum when something really hurts but you're trying to play it off.  I started to laugh a little, and then M started laughing so hard she could hardly breathe.  I said, 'It's ok, I have nine other fingers.  It's not serious.'  She was laughing harder than I'd seen in a very long time.  By this time it was bleeding profusely, my littlest was asking if it hurt, and I was trying to keep the blood off the ribbon and the bag.  I managed to thread the ribbon, tie it, and curl the ends.  The gift lookedSci beautiful.  But I love the fact that I was trying so hard to do something for my daughter, and in my eagerness almost lost a finger, but gained something more in my relationship with her.  It's like this silent agreement we have.  Yes, I'm eager to make things good for her.  And I am enthusiastic in my ideas.  And she's 17.  She rolls her eyes.  She acts like my ideas are terrible (some of them are).  But at the end of the day, she's learning she can trust me to take care of the details.  I laugh typing this, because this is exactly the kind of mom I always saw myself being.  The last minute, crazy idea that somehow works, fly by the seat of my pants mom.  The mom who waits until her daughter is walking out of the room to inspect how deep she really cut her finger, and then washes it out with some hand sanitizer and keeps on moving.

A Place at the Table

Thanksgiving was awesome.  I was blessed to have stuffing, mashed potatoes, gravy, green bean casserole, and pumpkin bars, all because an amazing adoptive mom carried the ingredients in for me!  I didn't start cooking until 2, and then friends arrived around 3:30 and we kept preparing.  I let my little dude watch TV (on the iPad) and eat Chiritos (orange colored, cheese sort of flavored, styrofoam peanut textured snacks), drink juice, and top it off with some yogurt.  He did great most of the time.  Around 4:45 everything was ready.  We sat down at the table and gave thanks.  Then we dug into the feast.  I had invited 5 of my friends, and Magalitha, and Miliene.  Magalitha took one look at the food, giggled, and walked away.  Miliene arrived around 6, but was all wound up.  She told me that a woman was sitting at the gate, holding her baby and her little girl, and crying.  She said I needed to go talk to her.  I couldn't imagine why anyone would come to our gate.  She said that the woman knew from asking in the neighborhood that there was a white woman who lived there, and that maybe I would help.  I stood up, muttering, 'That's what I get for reading that blog last night!'
I went outside and got Magalitha and told her she needed to come with me.  We found a woman just as Miliene had described.  They were filthy, hungry, and scared.  She said she had spent the last nights on the street, and had slept in a vacant car she found.  She said she was scared to keep sleeping on the street.  Magalitha looked at the baby and gasped, saying, 'The baby looks like Adriana.'  I asked what she thought we should do.  It was dark, and I couldn't very well invite this woman to stay in my house, not knowing her or her true situation.  But I could feed her.  So that's what we did.  The woman and her 8 year old daughter sat down and devoured plates of food.  My friends played with the baby boy, dressed head to toe in girl's clothes, complete with a pink bonnet.  They noticed that the baby was not clean, so I asked if they would like to bathe.  Magalitha and I scrounged up some clothes for the mom and daughter (Magalitha laughed at the underwear I had pulled out and she commented on the size.  I said 'my butt is big' to which her honest 17 year self replied, 'I know'), and when I opened up the suitcase we keep Adriana's extra clothes in, the first thing on the top was a blue and purple sleeper, clearly for a boy, in size 3-6 months, a perfect fit for Diego, the sweet baby downstairs.  I quickly put together a bag of supplies for the baby, warmed some water, and delivered the items to the exhausted mother.  I had called Pierre in the middle of all of this to ask what I should do.  I just couldn't tell them they had to sleep on the street again.  He said to take them to the orphanage, and they could sleep there and he'd talk to her in the morning.  So Magalitha walked them over, where Franckis had already had beds made up on the floor of one of the classrooms.
They've been there since Thursday night, and some things are coming together to help the mom with the baby, but we are unsure of what to do to help her and her daughter.  We know that God will lead and direct them, and us.
Two of my friends spent the night, and we were chatting about the whole thing.  They asked why I had mumbled something about a blog or something.  I laughed, and explained that somehow, I knew that this situation was going to happen.  I read the blog to them, and said that I had thought the place would be for Miliene and Magalitha.  But God surprised me, and sent a widow and her two children.  And when I think about amazing Thanksgiving tables, I'm in awe of how God chose to bless me and my friends.  We were literally blessed to break bread with God's treasured creations.  To be trusted with His most precious, beloved children.  And to be given the opportunity to love the broken, the hurting, the scared, the hungry, and to be called to be vulnerable in that moment, to let down my guard and put aside doubts, and realize that while I always have a place at His table, I'm called to make a place at mine.  What a precious gift to me.  And so I am thankful for the 'extra places' in my heart, life, and home.  I'm thankful that God himself sees fit to fill them, with old friends and new, and that I am never ever left to figure things out on my own.
Happy belated Thanksgiving everyone.

The Third Degree

One of my dearest friends in Haiti is leaving on furlough Wednesday, so a few of us were going to have dinner before he left.  I came home from Maison, took a super quick shower and put on capris and  a tshirt.  I used a little eyeshadow (very rare for me in these parts), put my everyday sandals on, and walked downstairs.  Magalitha was sitting with our cook (who told me I looked pretty).  Magalitha looked me up and down and said, "Where are you going?"  I said, "To dinner."  She replied with squinted eyes, "With who?  Are you going with a man?"  "You remember Kyle and Kristi?  They came to visit Adriana when she was born.  And my friend David.  Is that ok?" I asked.

She continued squinting at me, trying to decide how she felt about all this.  Finally, after admonishing me not to walk alone, and not to talk to people on the street, and insisting that I be home by 8:00, she said, "Ok, you can go."  I kissed her and said, "Thanks Momma.  If I'm not home by 8, I'll call you."  She said if I wasn't home by 8 she was coming to find me.  Then she told me I look pretty.

At 8:10, we were still enjoying our ice cream, so I texted and told her where I was, and that I was coming soon, and that I love her.  Her response? "Ok, I'm waiting for you."

In that simple interaction, I saw her hope and her love and her trust, all sitting there, waiting for me to guard them all.  My precious girl, who knows the dangers of this place, and so many things that she should never ever know or understand, was concerned for me.  My heart literally swelled up inside as I sat there with my friends.  I got home and didn't see her upstairs, so I texted her to tell her I was home, to sleep well, and that I love her.  Her simple reply, "ok".  

I may not have any of this parenting thing down, and I can't pretend that I do.  But building trust with my girl is as simple as calling her when I say I will.  Putting minutes on her phone so she can find me when she needs to.  Taking her to the doctor when she says she's sick.  Daily I learn that it's not in the big stuff, but the simple normally unnoticed everyday stuff.

Was it in the United States too?

was the question my dear girl asked me this morning, about the 2010 Haiti earthquake.  I have no idea how this conversation started.  I explained that there are earthquakes happening all the time, in all different places, but that when one happens here, it isn't happening somewhere else.  We wound up watching video of the 1989 San Francisco earthquake.  I didn't remember much of it because I was 11 when it happened, but watching it today with her made me see it with a whole new set of lenses.  She asked if all the people that died, were they all put in a hole together?  Did a big truck come and pick up the bodies?  What happened to the roads that crashed?  Are they still there like that?
Explaining to her that it took about 4 months to clean the roads up (demolition and rubble removal), and that no, all the dead people went to morgues and had regular burials felt like I was pouring salt on wounds somehow.  Within minutes of that eq, emergency personnel were freeing trapped people.  A day later, huge military helicopters brought in construction equipment to break up concrete and remove rebar.
None of those things even exist in this place.  She then asked to watch something from the Haiti eq.  We made it about 4 minutes, and she said that was enough.  She said that people just kept pleading the blood of Jesus, but why would they do that if Jesus is the one who caused it?
I tried to explain that Jesus didn't cause it, that it just happened because of the world we live in.  She didn't buy it.  She pacified me by saying, maybe you're right.  Come sweet Jesus, come.