Teen Mom?

I never really wanted to be a teen mom, but maybe it's too late.

Estherline, (our nine year old, in third grade) came home from school and, like everyday, she relayed her school day to me. This is a daily routine that I sometimes find myself subconsciously ignoring. She told me about who got in trouble for not completing their homework. I started to produce the robotic nods so that she knew I was listening. She repeated the jokes that the class clown used to interrupt the lesson. She told me what grade she received for her recitation of her history lesson. Then she shared about what the teacher talked about; mothers. Now, Estherline lives here with her three brothers and hasn't seen her biological mother for a while. I was suddenly intrigued, I wondered how Estherline participated in such a class conversation. I listened as she began her extended explanation of what was said. 

Estherline

"The teacher had us stand up in front of the class, one-by-one and talk about our mothers. We had to tell what they do for us, what they buy for us, how they take care of us."

     
As she said this, I thought, "What in the world did this girl say to the class?!" 

She continued, "I told them my mom's name is Cecilia."

My heart stopped...

"She takes care of me and helps me when I need help."

I didn't know how to respond...

I looked at her with a blank look on my face, let out a nervous laugh and said, "Ok...What. Else. happened today?"

Later on, I told my dad what she shared with me. He explained that the concept of "mother" is slightly different than what we would normally think. "Mother" is the one who takes care of you everyday.  

If Estherline looks to me as her mother I'm going to do my best to "take care of her everyday", thus making me a teen mom. 

Mannequins Make Great Models

It must be lovely to be a mannequin; to be perfect in every way and to never have to struggle with emotions.

Sometimes it's typical to think that missionaries have this "all together", "picture perfect", "I'm-working-for-God", "queue the angelic music" kind of life.

Contrary to popular belief, we experience;
doubt,
fear,
loneliness
and anger.

There are times, when we feel so alone, the lizard on the wall seems to be our only companion. We look at the little creature, and in all of our loneliness, we talk to it (don't worry, this doesn't happen a lot). We get pissed to the point where we yell at the coconuts hanging on the tree for not falling (or falling). We get tired of having to communicate in a language other than our own. We look at the fellow to which we are trying to explain something and start to blab in English (yeah, it's kind of awkward).

We have days when we ask ourselves why are we in a third world country - where showers are cold and bathrooms are scarce. Why are we in a country whose currency can be counted in two ways (gourdes and Haitian dollars) and the electricity is never consistent; in a place where everything takes two times longer and is usually done backwards. We ask ourselves these questions and sometimes feel a tad bit clueless and somewhat confused. These feelings and emotions aren't something that disappear as one mounts on a plane to enter the mission field, in search for the will of God. We have no halo, we carry no wings.

We are humans (in a foreign country), trying to conquer the mass of arrows and darts life throws at us. We are humans who have experienced the Grace of God on our lives. This Grace, so intense, so pure, so precious that we can't help but share it with others. And we seek to spread it. This is why we do what we do. Far from perfection and still learning to deal with our vast array of emotions we look to hold the orphan, shelter the parent-less and teach those who would otherwise never get an education.We give of the Grace that was so freely offered to us.

Oh! To be a perfect little mannequin would indeed be ideal, but then I would never have the ability to receive this wonderful Grace and participate in his perfect purpose.

This Was Church

Taken by Tara & Troy Livesay

I spent Thanksgiving, this year, with over 70 missionaries from all over the world who have come for some reason or another to serve the country of Haiti. Some are dedicated to helping the hurting women of Haiti. Others are teachers who came to educate and facilitate the children of Haiti. Some came to living with the orphans and establish housing for them. As I ate my turkey feast I shared a conversation with a pair of "missionaries". We laughed, joked and stuffed our faces. As I looked around the room I saw a flood of content faces illustrating hearts full of joy. This thought struck me, THIS was church. No one had a problem with another. Everyone had something encouraging or uplifting to tell another. Everyone was there to thank God, each other and to have a good time. This was God's original plan for church. We were free. Free, in the sense that no one was looking to offend or be offended.  The atmosphere was as like as the whipped cream that topped the pumpkin pie; light and sweet. The heaviest thing was the pitcher of gravy on the table (which was phenomenal by the way). God wants us to fellowship and know each other in such a way that even though we are people form different walks of life in one location of various reasons, we can still gather together and thank Him for his goodness and enjoy another's company.

The Magic Fruit

The lovely citron tree in our backyard. 

When we first came to the property, earlier this summer, we found a beautiful piece of plant life in the backyard. It was a citron tree. We "ooooed" and "ahhhed' at the glorious greenery. You see, the citron is a  small, round, green or yellow, citrus fruit that has proven to help a body heal at amazingly fast speeds. It has cured: travelers' diarrhea , cold, cough, runny nose, sore throats, dehydration and fevers. These bad boys work so well that they are sold at respectably high prices. So you can imagine our complete joy when we saw that our future residence would be not only our home, but the home of a prized fruit.

Citron fruit

Today I woke up with my head throbbing, a soar throat and a fever. After trying both rest and ibuprofen, my mother decided it was time for me to drink citron juice. She squeezed a handful of these lemon-like fruits into a cup with some sugar, filled it with water and placed it in front of me. I took a sip. I could feel the mixture of sour and sweet (mostly sour) run down my throat. When I finished drinking I went to take another rest. Not even 45 minutes had gone by when my sore throat was no longer sore, my head wasn't throbbing and my fever had lowered.

This, tiny and extremely potent fruit is one fantastic creation of Him! If you ever want to try some for yourself just stop by. Our tree provides an abundance of them.

It's Not That Bad; Being Alone.

At times when you see someone going through a circumstance the best way to show them that you care is to let them go through their situation alone. It’s when they are alone that change will have complete liberty to take place. 

They will be forced to recognize themselves for who they really are. 

Sometimes, if we aren't careful, our intention to make someone feel good about who they are can be like a sheet that blocks them from seeing their true self. If they can’t see their true nature they won’t see what needs to be changed.  

Similarly they can gain a perspective on who they desire to be.  

It is the human condition to want to help another but there are times when we put so much importance onto our own influence on someone that we forget to allow God to provide the purpose and stability that they so desperately need. 

(Adapted from a Journal entry I had written on April 26. 2011)

Pancakes

Ever since I was a child whenever my father made pancakes for breakfast, which was every once in a while, he'd make a personalized pancake with the first initial of our names. "E" for my brother, Elijah. and a "C" for Cecilia. This was tradition. This was the way pancakes were done in the Sweeney household.

This morning my dad made pancakes. He made Elijah's stack first. My mom put the plate in front of my brother. There is was a beautifully golden "E" on top of a pile of round, warm pancakes. Elijah asked me for a cup of water so I stood, located a cup and filled it up. By the time I sat again my plate was on the table. I saw what looked like the letter "L" and another pancake that were in the shape of eyeglasses or the letter "B". I sat there for a minute and just looked at it trying to figure out what it meant. I picked up my fork, still dumbstruck. 

Then, it hit me. 

The "L" was a 1.

 The "B", an 8. 

18!

I started to laugh! 

"Thanks!" I said, as I flooded my pancakes with syrup. 

Confessions of An 18 Year Old

Since today is my 18th birthday, the day I official can say "I am an adult", I'd thought I'd publish a confession for my parents entertainment and all those who read my blog.

When I was about 9 years old, my father bought these modern eyeglasses. They were the kind that you could bend every which way and they would never break. He had them for about a month or so, when, one day, he asked me to wash them for him. This would be my first time handling these super, special, new glasses. My immature and innocent 9 year old mind couldn't fully grasp the fact that these glasses were, in no way, breakable. It was unbelievable! I thought it was phenomenal, innovative and almost scifi.

So, as the water was running out of the faucet I decided to BEND the glasses in odd directions that, if these glasses were normal, would cause them to fall apart.

I bent,

twisted

and folded.

You can imagine my surprise when I found out that these space age glasses really could break. As I glared in complete disappointment at the fallen piece in the sink I thought, "What am I going to tell Dad?!" I suddenly dropped the eyeglasses in the sink, breathed in a few times and took the pieces to my father.

"what happened?" he asked.

"I dunno..."

"what happened?" he asked again.

"I dropped them, in the sink."

He never bought the bendy glasses again because he thought they didn't live up to their name and I never informed him that it was me who broke his glasses and not the sink.

Maybe I should buy my Dad a pair of bendy glasses for Christmas this year!

We Don't Do Voodoo

In Haiti, November 1st and 2nd are dedicated to Gede, a voodoo holiday similar to The Day of The Dead. (http://www.wehaitians.com/day%20of%20the%20dead.html) It is during these two days that voodoo practitioners initiate ceremonies and rituals to the spirit of Gede. (http://www.amnh.org/exhibitions/vodou/spirits7.html) Some of these rituals consist of drinking peppered alcoholic drinks and sacrificing animals to dead ancestors. People walk in the street claiming to be possessed by a dead person professing to be the living dead. Alters are prepared and chants are repeated.

At night, there are many that gather at voodoo temples:

As one who lives in Haiti, I wasn't effected by the sounds that overtook the night. It’s easy to become accustom to the drumming and chanting the longer you live in Haiti, but these things are very real. You see, when living in a country that sets aside 2 entire days to voodoo worship- closing down both shop and school to honor the holiday, it’s important to stay in the spirit. We do not fear the demons that are ushered in, because we know what we have is mightier, but we cover by the blood and remind the enemy of our authority in God.

On November 2 (the second day of Gede), I visited a local church. I had a conversation with the pastor. He mentioned that his church had been fasting and praying for two days. I asked why. He said the reason they fast is because there is so much evil going on during the Gede holiday that it’s important we get together and remind him (the devil) that we aren’t participating.

So instead of allowing these sounds and visuals put fear in us we take the time to tell the devil we aren’t participating in his antics.