It's the Little Things in Life...

There's some stuff from Haiti that was really heavy and really sad. And those images and stories will stay with us. But there was also some really funny events, and Adam and I frequently talk about those. 


We lived on a compound while we were there. SMI built a really big house for teams to stay in when they come. The Guitton school is within the compound walls, and there's also a basketball goal and soccer goals. They play soccer a lot. And they often play barefoot. On rocks. It looks so painful.


Anyways, there's lots of open space for these kids to come hang out with us while we're there. One evening in particular, the kids were crazy! I mean, kids everywhere and running around like circus performers. The sun was well on its way down, we had already eaten dinner, and the whole team went back out to hang with these attention starved kids. 


There were two boys in particular, running around uncontrollably, with NO pants and NO underwear. Just a long t-shirt and their sneakers. Adam chased and chased them, and he got tired long before they did. They were probably 3 or 4 years old. And they. were. trouble. 

That's the little boy- rocking the same type of outfit. Long t-shirt, but no pants and no underwear. Note: this picture is from a different day and inside the school. 


So, after Adam gave up, chasing these 2 energizer bunnies (more like monkeys!), I started playing with them. They love to be chased. Love to never be caught. But at one point this little guy, yanked on my arm. 


I looked down at him, and he stood there with his legs shoulder width apart, picked up his right leg, and slammed it down. Then he very proudly, pointed down at this shoe. Which just happened to be a light up shoe. So, naturally, the little red lights were flashing. And a smug grin filled this guys face. 


Of course, I praised his awesome shoes, which I then realized, only the 1 still lit up. But I watched him go person after person, pulling the same stunt. Leg slam, point, and nod. He knew he had awesome shoes. 


I smiled because my preschoolers do their own version of showing off their light up shoes (genius invention- by the way!). 


To this day, Adam and I will occasionally stomp our own foot and point down at our shoe. Because it was so cute when he did it. And SO dramatic. And he took such delight in his one light up shoe. I wish that I could give him a pair of light up shoes that actually fit. That both shoes actually lit up. But I know he's thrilled with the one he has. And that challenges me to be content and glad with what I have. 

Being Visible

A huge part of what SMI does is build relationships with people in Guitton. One way they do this is have teams walk through the village and go door to door passing out rice and beans to families. But first we take as much time as possible getting to know them, asking questions, and hearing their story. We offer them the gift of rice and beans and ask if we can pray for them.


Adam was so good at this. People on the team were genuinely anxious about having conversations with strangers through a translator. But if you know Adam at all, you know that he's just naturally so good at connecting with people. 


Anyways, one of the first houses we went to was actually the grandmother of our translator, Mackenzie, who happens to be the principal of the school in Guitton. He told us that she's been sick for months, and she can't talk. But he assured us that she'd be blessed by us coming in to talk to her. 


We make our way to the back of the house, which mind you, is not even 20 steps from the front door. We find a woman, laying on a mattress on the ground that's probably 4 inches thick. To describe her as frail doesn't even begin to scratch the surface. She looks 80 easily, but she's only 65. She's been laying on this mat for nearly 7+ months. She's in too much pain to talk or move, really. She did sit up at one point, so she could spit up into a bucket. 


A medical team came through back in April. They think she has a urinary tract infection. That's it. But the infection hasn't been treated, and the pain is literally crippling this woman. They gave her an IV, and that did alleviate the pain for a little bit. But it wasn't enough to rid her body of the infection. So, all to quickly, she found herself in pain again. 


As we started to pray for this woman, I couldn't hold back the tears. Why is this woman bedridden for over 7 months because of a urinary tract infection? How is this possible? I wanted to sit with this woman the rest of the day. She reminded me of my Abuela when she was sick with cancer. That kind of frailty. That kind of pain. Because of a urinary tract infection. 


Thankfully, we had a doctor on our team. Later in the week, she was able to give this precious grandmother another IV and enough antibiotics for 2 months. 


Hers is one of the faces I see often when I think about Haiti. Hers is one of the ones that makes me so confused and try so hard to come up with a solution to all of the problems facing Haiti. She shouldn't have to suffer like that. 


Yesterday at church, our pastor was teaching from Colossians 1. About how we were delivered from darkness and brought into a new Kingdom. Verses 15-20 talk about the preeminence of Christ, the image of the unseen God. And I kept thinking about these people in Haiti. Who many would probably agree that God is not visible, not tangible and perhaps even not present. When you're in the midst of that kind of suffering and desperation, I would imagine it could be hard to see God in your circumstances. 


But we are the ones who should be making God visible. Not just in Haiti. But right here in Seattle. We are image bearers. We are a representation of this Kingdom. We're the ones called to make the reign of Christ seen in this world, in our love, and in our service to one another. Through our compassion and our kindness. It's not enough to live by some moral code; we are to be making God visible through our lives. 


As I pondered these things throughout the day, my prayer was that God would make Himself visible in me. That compassion would move me to action. In all things, Christ preeminent. 

DIY #2

I don't think I've ever posted three times in a week. 

In an effort to put off all of the things I should be doing, I've been doing quite a bit of crafting. And painting and creating is good for me right now. 

I made a painting this week that is currently framed and hanging over our kitchen table, but it's not that great. So, no need to show a picture of it today.

Remember our door that we turned into a headboard? Well, I bought a smaller door the same day, knowing I could create a decorative item with it. Adam helped me think through how to hang it, and then naturally, he executed the actual mounting process.

So, this is hanging over our fireplace. And yes, I adjust it quite frequently because it always looks crooked to me. 

But we love it.

I have another project idea, so I experimented with chalkboard paint to make that chalkboard sign. I'm a fan! And I have A LOT of chalkboard paint left. 

And that little boy in the middle of the line up? That's Ovens. We want him to be a Tomberlin. Desperately. 

DIY Project Numero Dos: Success! 

Stories And More Stories

I wanted to wait to post again until one more person from the team posted their pictures because Adam and I know he has pictures that we really want to see. But he's taking his sweet time to do that. 


We've spent time each day talking about Haiti. About the stuff that's not sitting well with us. The stuff we come back to each time our thoughts wonder to our new friends. And my sweet husband just so badly wants to "fix" it, but he can't.


SMI is set up in Guitton. We spent a lot of time there, but they have projects in 2 other villages. Nawash is one of them. And all of my stories and pictures today are from there.


The first morning we went to Nawash, Monday, I met this little boy.

His name is Sadio. Or something close to that. They say he's 6, but he looks 3 or 4. He crawled into my lap and hung out with me for a while. He's about as cute as they come. I wanted to take him home. He's small enough to sit on my lap on the plane, right? 


When we came back that next day, all of the kids were much more comfortable with us being there, and they all flooded the church as soon as we arrived. We had the music on, and the kids were all helping us as we poured concrete. In fact, our assembly line was too crowded, so I started dancing and encouraging all of the little kids as they carried the empty buckets back to the pile of concrete. My little man, Sadio, would carry the bucket and dance the whole way back. He'd bounce with it, nodding his head, and confident he was cute. Because he is. 

There were so. many. kids. While the men were mixing more concrete, 2 of the girls on the team decided to try to get a duck, duck, goose game going. Of course, these kids didn't know how to play. So, they showed them how to play. Someone interpreted for them. 

When everyone was "clear" on how to play, Heather started it off. She chose Sadio as the goose, and he chased her but she made it back to his spot. His turn now. He walked around the circle and finally said "goose" to a little girl, and he bolted for the plantain fields. I mean, took. off. All of the kids were cheering for him, too. The little girl chased him as hard as she could. That round ended when she tackled him to the ground. So...I'd say they did a great job explaining the game. Best game of duck, duck, goose EVER!


But this is the little boy who really stole my heart. 

His name is Beasone. Pronounced Bee-uh-sone. He's 10. And if I could've picked one little person to bring home, it would've been Beasone. We were quick friends. By Tuesday, he was by my side at all times. He wanted to be holding my hand or hugged or anything. There seemed to be a sadness in his eyes, and he didn't talk much. And I can't explain much about our connection, but I wanted to scoop him into my arms and hold him as long as I could. He wasn't one that the whole team flocked too, like Sadio. He was quiet and quite honestly, a wallflower for the first several hours we were there. But his smile is heartwarming. He was just a little boy that wanted some lovin'. 


On Tuesday afternoon, we were about to leave with no assurance that we'd be back in Nawash. And I was already thinking that this good-bye was going to hurt.  When it was time to go, I was hugging him close, and he looked at me, asking if I was coming back tomorrow. Tim told him that he didn't know if we'd be back at all, but definitely not tomorrow. Maybe later. But maybe not. So his grip tightened, and I rested my head on his head. In this moment, I really, really hated that I didn't know Creole. Because I wanted him to know that I cared, that I loved him. But that Jesus loves him more than I ever could.


So, I walked away, praying for my new friend, and then I started crying the second I sat on the bus. Maybe before I made it to the bus. I don't know what his life has looked like. I don't know who he lives with. I don't know if his Mama hugs him everyday or if he eats more than 1 meal a day. But something about sweet Beasone just broke my heart. 


Something I forgot to tell Adam... I get attached quickly. 


Thankfully, we got to go back on Friday morning to paint the church. And what do you know? My husband "accidentally" started a dance circle with about 15 Haitian kids. To which, I got pulled into the circle.

And pretty quickly, Adam and I were in the middle of this mass, dancing while everyone clapped and shouted and probably laughed. We then convinced everyone (tried to) that they, too, had to dance. 


And just like that, Nawash became a part of our hearts forever. And it reaffirmed that Adam and I are perfect for each other. 


Sometimes when I'm trying to fall asleep, I think about my friends in Nawash. I think about where those kids are sleeping. If they went to bed hungry. If they had any water that day. I wonder if a team has finished the church. If that team also fell in love with those kids. If someone held Beasone and made sure he got some hugs even though he's not an attention grabber. 


And I wonder what we're supposed to do with all of this. 


But one thing I definitely walked away from Haiti with is that I'm incredibly thankful for Adam. I'm thankful for his protective nature (umm...WOW!! we experienced this on a whole new level in Haiti). I'm thankful for his companionship, his questions, his listening ears, his heart for people, and his dancing abilities. Duh! I'm forever grateful that we're on this journey together. That we get to wrestle with all of this together, and we get to see God work in each other's lives through this. 

Where To Begin

"I want to warn you all, Haiti will mess you up. In the most beautiful way possible."


This was one of the first things Tim told us upon our arrival in Haiti. And it's true. But it hurts. And it's confusing. 


It's only Monday, but I already feel a little frantic to make sure the faces, the experiences, the realness of what we saw stays fresh. Because those experiences are stories that need to be told over and over and over again. Adam and I spent a lot of time yesterday looking at the hundreds of pictures that have already been posted to facebook by other members of our team. And though we love looking at them, those pictures will never add up to our experience. And we know this. And we knew that going into it, but there's an urgency to remember what we saw. To remember their names. To remember what we felt. To tell their stories. Because their stories matter. 


So, over the next few posts, I'll be telling stories, or trying to. Because a lot happened, and I'm a slow processor. 


Once we arrived in Port Au Prince, we loaded a bus that belongs to the organization we were there with and headed on an hour long ride to get to the village we would be staying in for the next week. We were so tired, but I was forcing myself to look out the window and see this country. This poverty stricken land that is dry and desolate. Where four posts and a tarp draped over it is considered a house for some people. Where people walk around on very rocky terrain barefoot because they don't have shoes. And where one meal a day is enough. 


I've seen extreme poverty before in El Salvador, but Haiti is different. Because the whole country suffers from it. In El Salvador, there's stores and city and restaurants. But not in Haiti. There is no "middle class." There is nothing but the wealthy 5-10% (that I saw no traces of) and then poor and extremely poor. 


We stopped at the mass gravesite for 196,000 people who were buried after the earthquake. They were literally buried into this hill, and we stood on a plateau nearby. It was a surreal moment, and I wanted to weep for this country. Such a devastating loss for these people. 


We drove through the market where people were desperately needing to sell their goods- whatever it was- to be able to feed their families. It was chaos. 


And we drove up on a woman wailing on the side of the road, on the ground, clutching her abdomen. I thought she was miscarrying a baby the way she was holding herself. We had to slow down because the road is really tight and people were coming to a stop. We drove slowly by, and then we saw it. A truck had driven into a ditch, and right beside the truck was a little girl's body covered by a towel. She was probably 9 years old. 


And I grasped Adam's hand tighter and wanted to get out of the bus. 


We have no way of knowing what happened, but we later found out that things like this happen in Haiti all the time. Roads are dangerous. Medical help is non existent. Taking her to a hospital was not an option. Children already have malnourished, weak bodies, so recovering from trauma is practically impossible. And this took my breath away. 


I know car accidents happen all over the world. But the pain in that mother's cry was too much for me to handle. In what appears to be a hopeless land, what do you say to a woman who just had her daughter die due to probably reckless driving? Who's coming along side of her to hold her? Who dares to tell her everything will be okay?


And this was our introduction to Haiti.


Our trip was filled with a lot of laughter, a lot of sweat, and a lot of hard work. But it had it's fair share of heartache, too. Because no one should live like the people in Haiti do. And it's literally painful to see kids be hungry and stare at you longingly as you drink water. Because I never saw a kid drinking water unless we gave it to them. 


The whole time I was there, and even now, I wrestle with what the hope is for Haiti. They lack so much. They have no clean water source. There's not good vegetation. They lack education. They don't have the resources to bring about significant change, and generation after generation is living the same way. Sounds hopeful, right? No.


For a couple of days while we were there, we went to a neighboring village to lay a concrete floor in a recently built church. This meant, mixing rocks, sand, water, and cement mix and carrying bucket after bucket into the church, dumping it on the ground, and someone smoothing it out. For hours. With very little progress. We literally did this for 3-4 hours straight on Monday morning, and we finished about a sixth of the floor. You do the math. The whole village came out to watch these white people do this. The organization (SMI Haiti) is building this church when there's currently no church body in this village. No group of people asked for this church. It's kind of a, "If you build it, they will come," type of thing. 


We made significant progress Monday after lunch as we introduced an assembly line. So, we returned Tuesday morning to lay more floor in this church that we're not even sure the people of Nawash even want. But Adam and I fell in love with the kids here, and we were pumped to be going back. 


Within minutes of our arrival in Nawash, easily 25 kids were scampering around us. The men were mixing the concrete, and so we had to wait to start the physical labor. But the kids were elated we were back. Someone brought their ipod speakers, and the first song playing was the song All To Us by Chris Tomlin. Which, if you don't know that song, look it up on youtube. But the words seemed so right as we were literally laying the foundation for this church. With kids helping and playing eagerly around us, I felt like I had a brief glimpse of God's heart for these kids. 


The hope is Jesus. The hope is that this church is passionate about God's glory. That these kids would measure their lives by the saving love of Christ. And God's righteousness would be a burning holy flame in Haiti. But it starts in these kids in this one village. 


And each time people who love Jesus interact with them, they get glimpses of hope- Christ within us. We deposit hope into their lives, and we desperately pray they know the love of Jesus. And for that reason alone, Adam and I want to go back. To see the kids of Nawash and Guitton (where we stayed) experience Jesus and know the hope of Christ. 


Our hearts were impacted deeply by the people of Haiti. And I have plenty of stories to tell. And I will tell them. And I pray that Adam and I are forever changed by the people we encountered. By the kids who captured our hearts. By the need for Jesus. And by the glimpses of hope for these people. 


Haiti is messing us up in a beautiful way. 

School's Out For the Summer

Yesterday was my first official day of summer vacation. The kids finished last Friday, but I had to clean out my room this week. This time, Adam wasn't around to keep me company or to help. 


On the last day of school, I showed a video I put together of our year, and I invited the parents to come watch with the class. I took so many pictures over the course of the year, and I knew the parents would love seeing a glimpse into our year together. The kids, naturally, thought it was awesome to see themselves on the tv. 


As I watched it with them, I got a little sad, though it's been a far more challenging group of kiddos than last year's group. I will miss them. I looked at their sweet faces and couldn't help but think, "I could've done better." 


I could've done better.


I could've been more patient, answered more kindly. I could have given of myself even more and made sure I gave them the best possible preschool experience. I would often ration my patience for the whole day because I work with preschoolers, 3rd graders, 4th graders, 6th graders, and high schoolers on any given day. This year's schedule was all over the place for me. 


And it hasn't been until literally the weekend after the last day of school that I realized it was so silly of me to try to ration anything. Because Jesus is enough. And He's all that we need. 


Our pastor talks about how he'll simply say, "Jesus, I receive your strength," if he's feeling particularly weak. Or whatever he feels he's lacking, he looks to Jesus and looks to receive it in fullness. From the Source that never runs dry, that never gives up, and that is never lacking. 


I recalled this as I was flying to Georgia for a wedding. I was there for literally 26 hours. Awesome, huh? Since being married, I hate flying without Adam. And I was already feeling so drained from school ending and flat out too exhausted to make this trip happen. I was on the red eye, not sleeping. The flight was bumpy, and I was just so unsettled and feeling so anxious. I was hunched over on my tray table, singing into my arms, and praying for peace. I, too, said, "Jesus, I receive your peace for this moment." And I proceeded to say that probably 100 more times throughout the flight. 


But it made me think of all the times I would be struggling at school and not look to Jesus to be what I needed in that moment. So many times that I could've leaned more on His strength, His kindness, His compassion, and His love. 


So...note to self for next year! 


Until then, I'll allow myself some time to recover from the year I just had, and I'll look to Jesus to be everything I need. 

DIY Project #1

You know...Adam will tell you that he's not a "do it yourself" type of guy. He's the type of guy that calls a guy to do it. So, when we decided to take on the project of turning a door into a headboard, I knew it was an act of love. 


So, we bought a door. 

We bought if for $30, I think, at a really cool second hand use store. I also bought another treasure that will be turned into art sometime in the summer.


Then, we sanded it. And by "we," I mean that Adam did the large majority of it. But I helped.

I mean, he sanded that thing for a while. 

Our friend from small group then came over with his cool tools to cut it to fit our bed size. And then to help Adam attach some 2x2s to each side. I did not take a picture of this because I didn't want to embarrass Adam.

We then picked out some paint samples to try, and we decided on a color.

We did all of the painting in our spare bedroom because the weather outside in Seattle right now is just too unpredictable. Again, Adam did most of it. 


The most frustrating part of it all was attaching it to the bed frame. It was at this point that Adam said, "This is exactly why I don't like do it yourself projects!" Whereas, I was loving it and already imagining our next project! BUT...the end result is pretty awesome! 

I really love it! It looks even better in person! 


Can't wait for DIY #2!