Something New That Should Never Get Old

My time in Haiti is coming to an end (once again). This time it's "good bye" for awhile. Way back in 2010, before I had my own blog, I guest posted on John and Perla's blog. I shared about the change I was experiencing. Here is an encore post of that same entry called "A New Perspective". Enjoy!

Yesterday was my second Friday here in Mariani, Haiti. As the sun was starting to go down, I sat on the balcony gazing out at the entire orphanage. My legs were crossed as they swung from the balcony seat. Looking far out I could see the dark blue ocean; a little closer I saw a field. Looking right down was the church where people had gathered for prayer. I could hear them singing over my playing ipod. The group stopped singing and someone began to speak. At this point a song called, "We Will Trust You" was beginning to play on the mp3. It starts out:

"How precious is your heart, oh God

Righteous and true

Gaze on me with infinite tenderness

I surrender to you

Master of wind and raging tide..."

I suddenly was taken by the trust that the people of Haiti have for God; their complete surrender to Him. As the song played and the prayers of the people in the church escaped into my ears, I began to pray.

Just two weeks ago I was worried about whether or not I would have enough hair product to last me the trip. The night before I left I was torn by the fact that, due to a lack of room in my luggage, I wouldn't be able to bring a sentimental pair of shoes. Now looking back, the word that comes to mind is, "pointless." It's not so much that I appreciate all the things I've been blessed to have, but rather, "What is the use?"

I urge you to seek a new perspective. Being thankful for what you have is great and good, but how big is your trust in God? 

Can you sing to Him when you have nothing? 

Have you truly surrendered it all to Him? 

Become raw before God and find the priceless value of Him.

Connections and Plastic People

Many of you may recall my blog entry called, "Mannequins Make Great Models.". This entry was a big hit, as in it was shared on social networking sites like Facebook; big.



Today the same entry was posted on http://faithfulbloggers.com/ as a guest post! If you'd like to check it out go right ahead!



I was also invited to post for http://www.imperfectpeople.net/. My entry will be shared in January! (This is a pretty big deal for me, being that I'm only 18 and I've been blogging for less than a year!)

Thanks to all my readers for sharing my blog! I don't know about other bloggers, but getting feedback from all yall really motivates me to write more! 

Cleaning With Charcoal

We had a few guests over for lunch so we decided to cook over charcoal (sometimes cooking outside is easier, sometimes). This, in turn made the cooking pots very, very black and dirty and it was my day to wash dishes...

I plopped the pot into the water and just as soon as the pot got wet, the water turned a dark grey.
I took a small washing towel to use in place of a sponge.
And began to wipe the pot.
In no time the towel had become as black as charcoal.
My hands were starting to change color as well.
So I stopped washing to pot and rinsed the towel.
I sprinkled some powder detergent on the pot and did some scrubbing.
It makes sense to conclude that the pot, which easily turned everything it touched into "soot central", will never be as clean as it was the day it was made.

Madame Elunes modelling the BLACK soot!

As I struggled with the monster-pot-from-charcoalville I had a thought.

About sin.

Sin, similar to charcoal, is very hard and probably even more frustrating to wash away !

Then I thought, "Oh my God! Jesus' blood must have been so pure, perfect and extremely concentrated to be able to wash ALL of that crap from our pots!"

The Fear of God

Sprayed -(Part 2 of The Missionary and The Cricket)

"Tom The Cricket" under the table!

The pattern proceeded for three more nights.

"Chirp"

The cricket who was silent by day and noisy by night managed to travel from under the kitchen sink to under a small table still in the kitchen. The missionary, every morning, would search and scout for the small creature, but to no avail did they find it. The missionary concluded that it was only at night that the cricket can be caught, trapped, and disposed of. So on the fourth night:

"Chirp"

The missionary, like they had done once before, tiptoed down the stairs to enter the kitchen, turned on the light.

"Chirp"

They grabbed a hold of the walking insects bug killer spray (that had been positioned on the table earlier that day). 

Aimed. 

Sprayed.

"Tom the Cricket" (photo was taken right before he was sprayed)

....

The victory came quick and silence quicker. The remainder of the night was one of peace and tranquility; one that allowed the missionary to lay and ponder there in her bed.

Thus concludes the story of the missionary and the cricket.

The Missionary and The Cricket

Once upon a time there was a cricket. He lived under a sink in the kitchen of the house of a missionary. During the day he would hide and cower behind many objects that had accumulated underneath the counter and in the cabinet. There he would stay in complete silence all day. At night, he'd sing and chirp and brush his small legs together like a violin and play, play and PLAY. The missionary, after a long day of serving would lay their head on a pillow. Instead of relaying in their heads the wonderful things that had been completed or planning for the next day, they would try and figure out a way to silence the little cricket. 

"Chirp, Chirp, Chirp..."

pic from ehow.com

Every night this would happen. Until one night the missionary decided that it was time for the cricket to end its noise. 

"Chirp." 

The missionary descended down the stairs using soft, soundless footsteps. It was dark, so they turned on the kitchen light.

"Chirp"

"Chirp" 

The missionary looked in the direction of the sink. There he was; a little black cricket the size of a dime. The missionary stood motionless by the light switch, then turned their body to a cabinet. They gently opened the pantry door and took out a plastic cup; a device to capture the singing machine. 

"Chirp"

The missionary turned to face the cricket. 

.....

It had disappeared. Disappointed and slightly frustrated the missionary switched off the kitchen light walked back up the stairs, curled up in their bed and vowed to someday silence the cricket.    

(Stay tuned for part 2 of this epic nonfiction story.)

Clueless

When I first came to the land of "unlimited impossibilities" (I'm quoting John Mchoul- a 25 year missionary in Haiti) I was clueless.

Thinking back to the weeks before making the move that forever changed my life, I remember thinking:

"I'm going to be living in a hut, with mud walls and killing my own chickens for dinner. I will dress in a skirt and an overly modest shirt (like, I got this blouse from my Gram) on a daily basis."

So. very. clueless...

Then, I arrived in Haiti and found that walls are made of cement and roofs of mortar. Dead, cut up chickens can be bought at a local market. My dark blue skinny jeans can still be something I slip on. I was truly relieved (especially about the chickens).

As the months passed by I found out more:

When they tell you 5 P.M. they mean 6:30. P.M. It's called "island time". And you must adapt, there is no other option.

Currency goes as follows: 5 gourdes to a Haitian dollar. So that 500 bill in your hand is only 100 dollars. This is something that takes months to fully comprehend.

The electricity is never consistent. Not much else to say about that besides "Bonjou Mr.Generator and Madame Inverter!"

As the months grew to be many there was still more to be clued in on:

The language- one word can mean five different things. The word for "scared" is the same word for "peace". So figure.

Your facial expressions can literally redefine a simple statement.

This is Haiti and everything is done differently here. Never impose your own ideas and thoughts on a native. Respect them and how they operate. 

I am now on my 15th month of missions and there are still things I am clueless about. Like, why they tell me to wear shoes if my stomach is acting up...but I wouldn't trade the journey to discovering it all for anything!

Pieces of Peace

Estherline has this toy-kit-pet-shop thing. And, man does it have a lot of small, tiny, itty bitty, little pieces! When I watch her play, all those ant sized kitties and teacups are a peculiar sight, but oddly enough, she can sit and play with that shinky dink world for quite sometime. The look on her face is one of peace. All those miniature kitties and teacups allow her to relax....and chill. Strange, but true.

Anyway, this got me thinking, about peace. I know if I were to try and find peace in those small toys I wouldn't find it, even it I rearranged them for hours (like she does).  I decided to do some scripture diving into the subject of peace. I found this scripture:

Now may the Lord of peace himself give you peace at all times 

and in every way. The Lord be with all of you.

Though finding peace in little toy pieces is totally valid (for a 9 year old girl) there is a source of peace that is available to every single one of us.

The Lord.

And trust me, allowing the Lord to be the giver of peace is something we all can do and makes more sense than searching for peace by playing  with a billion little plastic cupcakes.