Something Drastic

Running Up Escalators

2012-02-21T15:29:00.004-05:00

Take therefore no thought for the morrow: for the morrow shall take thought for the things of itself. Sufficient unto the day is the evil thereof. Matthew 6:34

When I was younger I remember running up the escalators at the JCPenny store and trying to reach the top before anyone else. Of course, I'd always win because no normal person would dart up a stairwell that automatically ascends to the higher level (except the very hyper Ceci). There I'd stand panting for breath with my hair displaced as a result of my sudden sprint with eyes wide (sweet victory). As the shopping trip carried on and everyone enjoyed themselves, I would be the first to get tired... my energies were prematurely exerted at the entrance. I'd turn cranky and ask myself why I felt like I had HAD to run up the metal moving stairs. Silly girl.

I've noticed this pattern in my life- trying too hard too early. I sometimes wear myself out when I should be relaxing; hassle over a situation when it really isn't something to stress over, or jump into meaningful relationship before its God's time. In the beginning the sense of control, independent and responsibility seem to be there, but before long, I feel the way I'd feel at the end of a shopping trip. Tired and regretful. Honestly, I enjoy being first (in life, love, success and all things "grown-up") but I'm learning now that it's better to take a normal pace (let Life be an escalator) so that I'll still have it together at the end.

Double Lives Means Double Meals

2012-02-15T14:35:00.000-05:00

As teens we want to be able to make our own decisions (nomatter how destructive), live our own lives (without limits), to choose words (no matter how profane). If we feel restricted or stifled by someone, we defy. Some of us rebel in a way thatcan be seen. We’re told to do one thing and we intentionally do it the oppositeway. Others, are more subtle in their defiance. We form another life. Secretand unseen. Within it we are who we want to be, without another’s influence onus.

As I think about my past I ponder:

There’s a problem, though, with this second life. It has norules, limits or boundaries. When living a life without the protection of wisdomand reason self destruction is inevitable. Yep, it may seem like freedom now,but in the long run the things I did: broke the trust, rose the guilt and took me far from God.

Before I knew it, I didn’t know who “Cecilia” was. Was shethe “good girl” who listened to the latest Christian music releases? Or was shethat girl who secretly did things that would keep her from sleeping at night?Nope. She was both. I was burdened with living two lives. Two very real livesbut two very real lies.

Long story short, this is what I did:

But have renouncedthe hidden things of dishonesty, not walking in craftiness, nor handlingthe word of God deceitfully; but by manifestation of the truth commendingourselves to every man’s conscience in the sight of God. 2 Corinthians 4:2

I renounced it and thanked God for his redeeming power along with super supportive parents. My life isn’t perfect nowadays. I have mymistakes, my bad decisions, but I live one life now. And if I pursue something that mightintroduce “another” life, I get back in check. Because really, who wants to eat 6 meals aday...double meals?

Even Jesus Had Those Few

2012-02-10T10:47:00.001-05:00

(Written December 2011, that was left in "draft" form)

^"All the believers were together and had everything in common. They sold property and possessions to give to anyone who had need. Every day they continued to meet together in the temple courts. They broke bread in their homes and ate together with glad and sincere hearts. " (Acts 2:44-47)

I was talking to a friend missionary the other day. She’sbeen on the mission field for over 22 years specifically in Haiti. We wereattending Christmas dinner with a group of other missionaries. We relayed howwhen you’re a missionary you are the one that they turn to when they needsupport. Your shoulder is the one on which they cry. It’s your words theylook to for guidance. You become a model and example of strength and firmfaith. So what do we do when we need to cry or find direction or vent? She saidthis;

“You get together with those who do the same thing you do andfellowship.”

Even Jesus had that special group that he kept close. Hisdisciples. There were there when he experienced anger or anxiety. They were hissupport. The same concept is applied when you’re a missionary. No matter howhard you work to increase the kingdom. You still need the aid of another.Always.

As the subject of our conversation changed I found her simple answer toring true. There’s something about being able to freely converse with someonewho has experienced the same thing you are in the middle of…and not feel like you’re damagingthe “role-model” image you are expected to have.

Thank you Beth!

"Show Your Heart"

2012-02-09T19:05:00.002-05:00

In Haiti, whenever there was a communication problem or a misunderstanding between two of the children I would tell them this:

"You see that person? That person, there, can't see what's in your heart."

And they'd look at me with a blank look on their face. Like the awesome mediator that I am, I'd continue.

"YOU need to take out your heart and shove it in their face! Show them how you feel. Because this problem is because you guys aren't looking at hearts."

Eyes would begin to roll. And arms would cross.

I guess heart show-and-tell isn't the most exciting thing????

"Show your heart." I'd repeat, again and again.

Slowly one would open up with the concerns from their young little heart. Before long tears would fall and hugs were exchanged. It's beautiful to see a mutual understanding of a situation!

When blogging, because its virtually impossible for me to explain everything, I sometimes feel like I can't blog certain stories, ideas or revelations because there is so much room for misunderstanding.

For example, I can say, "I love chicken!" and some will respond, "Wow, me too!", others will look at it and think, "So she doesn't like beef?!" or "Why do we need to know that?!".

I find myself sitting at my laptop looking at written posts that I have decided to keep in "draft" form. Yet, my heart is to share everything, so that someone, out there, can relate or grow or learn or disagree or add. So here I am, showing my heart about showing my heart. So that, one day, I can post all those drafts without worrying about being misunderstood.

Pizza With a Side of Faithful

2012-02-07T10:45:00.000-05:00

I just started training at a local pizzeria. (Yes, can anyone say free pizza! I'm all smiles.) One of the things stressed while in training is faithfulness; coming in on time and making sure you do things the same and consistently. Faithfulness at a pizza place job?! Indeed, it's very important. Who would have known! It's not just slapping dough and memorizing pizza toppings. If faithfulness is vital in making a 14" pizza pie then how much more important is it when it comes to the most precious relationship we have?!

Moreover, it is [essentially] required of stewards that a man should be found faithful [proving himself worthy of trust].

1 Corinthians 4: 2

Here's to applying pizzeria training to my relationship!

Returning To The Mission Field

2012-01-30T20:35:00.000-05:00

If it was possible I would combine my two kinds of enjoyment together, stateside and overseas, and have a perfect sense of "enjoyment".

It's been a few weeks since I've left Haiti. I've had many a-hot showers and lots of electricity. I've walked to the store to buy a milkshake and munched on some gooey, cheesy pizza. I've enjoyed my time here!

It's a different kind of enjoyment though.

It's not the same kind of joy that one gets when they wake up every morning at 5 to bath the orphanage kids to get them to school. It can't be compared to the fun one has when all the kids are in bed and you sit around the table with the Haitian staff and sing hymns. It's not the same.

It's not hard to smile when you have a platter full of great restaurant food sitting in front of you or when you spend time with your friend you haven't seen in so many months. In fact, I've had a lot of laughs and smiles theses past few weeks. I've found that I do indeed like it here in the US! So what do I do? With two happinesses (not a real word) to seek?

I enjoy my life here with all its wonders and joys, and work hard to, one day, visit that other "enjoyment" in my future.

Am I a Fungi?

2012-01-26T17:22:00.003-05:00

This morning, when I was taking a walk I saw mushrooms growing out of a tree. I looked at them and tried to think of a deep, profound metaphor for the fungi-growing-out-of-the-foot-of-the-tree image before me. Nothing came up.

So that was this morning....

The entire day passed by. Then....

BANG! It hit me.

Am I a mushroom? Or am I a tree?

Am I a fungi stuck on someone else preventing them from being all they can be; taking the life that they should have, keeping them from growing the way they were meant? Or am I a beautiful piece of greenery striving on it's own to be strong and to eventually provide fruit?

Frozen Fingers Make Good Writers

2012-01-24T20:01:00.000-05:00

What's cold, smiles and fills out a ton of applications?

A young "ex-pat" who has recently re-entered her country and is looking for a job.

She learned a few lessons today:

One of the applications filled today.

- It's the year 2012 and 89% of all applications should be done online. (I found this out after walking 25 minutes, in the cold, to the shopping center at which I was planning on applying, at least I got in some exercise).

- I need to be over 18 to work at a warehouse. (I guess putting teens and saws in the same building is dangerous??)

- After just one day of job hunting. I found some promising places. (Thus, I'm not understanding the whole "I can't get a job" thing that I've heard some say.)

It's a matter of determination and self motivation. I'm not an expert in job hunting or anything, but it's easy to find an excuse for something that just takes some effort to get done. If you go our there, in the ice, with a grin on your face and fill out some papers you may end up with some money in your pocket later on.

My Toilet Paper is a Blanket

2012-01-17T17:30:00.001-05:00

After dismounting the plane from Port-au-Prince, Haiti toNewark, New Jersey:

I’m standing in line to go to the immigration desk I see alady directing people to their corresponding line. My first thought: “She looks like a clown”,with her heavy eye makeup and 5-tones-too-dark lipstick. As I looked at her Isaw that she had both fake eyelashes and fake hair. This is America? No. Americacan’t be summed up in one artificial woman.

Fast forward a few more hours. I’m sitting at the toilet. Myarm reaches for the toilet paper; I grab a hold of it, “Gosh! I’m about to wipewith a blanket!” The toilet paper was so thick, full and plush I didn’t knowwhat to do. I rerolled it and ripped off two dainty squares, one. by. one.

Looks like I’ve come to a land where we have more thanenough…and maybe, sometimes, too much; too much makeup, too much syntheticstuff and even too much toilet paper.

Outfits, Eggs and Expectations

2012-01-15T23:16:00.000-05:00

I've chosen my outfit for tomorrow's voyage back to the freezing state of Pennsylvania. A tank top, one t-shirt, one heavy shirt, one pullover hoody and one zipper down sweater. Yes, I passionately dislike the cold. In fact, not many people like the cold. Another thing people don't enjoy is lowering their standards and changing their expectations.

Whooooa! I know I caught you off guard with that one. Let me back up a little.

Along with thinking about what to cloth myself with, today, I also thought about relationships and what we, as people, expect out of them.

Gosh, okay maybe you still don't see the connection. My deepest apologies for the inevitable confusion.

Really, from the start we have this idea, this image in our head about what we want, need, and desire in someone else. And then, we do this freakish "egg-hunt" for someone to be ALL that. Then there are times when we find an "egg" (even if we're not looking) and they meet almost all the criteria but are shy a few for the major, ermmmm, elements. So what do we do? Toss the egg? Keep it and change it? Find another one? Sadly, all I did was think today, not find answers.

I do know that tomorrow I will experience coldness against my cheeks and therefore I'm preparing for it with many layer of clothing.

He Just Can't Say It...

2012-01-14T21:23:00.001-05:00

Today was spent finishing up some things;getting things packed (and not taking them back out of the bag because it needsto be used for another few days). I mean zipping-up-the-bag kind of packing, inventoryof supplies for after we leave and making sure everyone is prepared forour departure.

Finishing.

On an unrelated, yet related note, there is a word that Leonard(4) has never been able to utter in his own native tongue. We have tried onmultiple occasions to have him say it but to no avail. He persistently can’tsay the word “fini”. Instead he says, “finish” - its English translation. TheHaitian born, Creole speakin’ little boy can’t say “fini”.

For example he'd say:

“Nou finish manje” (We’re done eating)

“Film la finish” (The movie is over)

The dominant language spokenhere is Creole, not English, yet he still manages to say, “finish”. It’s a curious situation. It’s something about Leonard that’s specialthat we’ll miss as we finish our job at this orphanage.

Responding To Rhetorical Questions

2012-01-12T20:22:00.000-05:00

You know when the preacher is speaking and he asks a question, within his message, that's intended to remain unanswered by the crowd?

Well, today I sat in service with Gladimy (5) sitting at my left and Leonard (4) on my lap. The sanctuary was packed with quake survivors all fanning themselves with their eyes fixed on the pastor. We listened as the pastor talked about the earthquake two years ago. He shared the stories of those who lost their lives and those who were spared with injuries. He went on to preach about the favor and grace that God had on those in the room, having protected them. The message continued and he started to talk about eternity:

Le nou mouri kote nou prale? (When you die where are you going?)

Within the same moment Gladimy peeps up and says,

"Nan syel la!" (To heaven!)

"Um oops!",I thought, as heads turned to look at the little boy in the back who actually answered the question that was clearly rhetorical!

It was both humorous and nifty at the same time. I hugged Gladimy - who didn't realize, until after he blurted out, that he wasn't supposed to answer the question. Gladimy knows where he's going when he dies. Do you?

"Out of the Same Cup"

2012-01-11T18:54:00.000-05:00

We had just finished talking to the staff about our moving back to the United States. We talked rules, expectations, and guidelines.

There were tears in some eyes.

"Nou bwe nan memm gode a" (We drink out of the same cup) is what she said as we were finishing up the meeting.

In translation, she continued and she laid a hand on my waist: "When I came to work here I was prepared for anything. I didn't know the type of treatment I would receive. Later, I learned. Haitians and Whites sit together, eat together, live together. Even if I worked for a Haitian family doing the work I do (she takes care of children) I wouldn't be allowed to sit at this table with them.

Our eyes grew wet with tears.

Another spoke up: "I remember I had to cook the rice, Elijah (my ten year old brother) came and helped me cook rice. I remember him saying, 'I can do this, I won't get burned.' we work together. I'm going to miss this family very much.....I'll miss you all very much.

The other: "I will pray God's will for your lives..."

Encouragement and unity flooded the room. We had become a family here. A lovely mixture of Haitians and Americans, working together to serve the children. As the days grow shorter we have found "our greatest victory" and passing the baton is made easy, through trust in God and one another.

Haiti Made Me:

2012-01-10T23:56:00.000-05:00

laugh

cry

sing

dance

reflect

run

fall

hold on

let go

grow

learn

strong

compare

change

trust

contrast

think

forget

confused

remember

fight

understand

give up

confront

hide

joke

contemplate

realize

decide

choose

bold

brave

appreciative

ambitious

cautious

free.

Just doing some reflecting....

5 more days.

Over Sentimental

2012-01-08T20:41:00.000-05:00

Letting the kids know we are leaving

Tomorrow begins the one week count down to my move back to the good ol' United States. Packing, is a funny task. I still need to use the stuff that I should be packing, so really, packing will never be completely done until the day I leave. I have begun the task of sorting through my belongings into two categories; things to take right away and things I can wait a few months to see again. I look through my stuff and decide what items hold memories and what is just a little souvenir. The whole thing has its emotional moments. I've got that shoe box stuffed with all the little "Mesi" notes and pictures of flowers. That pink-construction-paper-heart that reads "I love you" in glitter glue. The rubber band that was intended to be a gift. Ah! I glare at my memories and (instead of crying my eyes out) I say to myself,
"Gosh, girl, you are way too sentimental."
But, no, honestly, these girls and boys are so strong, independent, and have been taught the best. I know very well that they can and will make it without me waking them up every morning to go to school and, at meal times, telling them to go wash their hands. In fact, they might feel a little bit relieved after I head out! Plus they know, Estherline, Gladimy, Leonard and James know, without a shadow of a doubt, that they are loved. Thus the "mission" is complete, there is peace and it's time to go back to America.

Something New That Should Never Get Old

2011-12-30T21:25:00.003-05:00

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

2011-12-23T16:29:00.001-05:00

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

2011-12-20T21:56:00.000-05:00

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

2011-12-10T16:44:00.000-05:00

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

2011-12-08T13:00:00.001-05:00

"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

2011-12-05T12:48:00.001-05:00

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"

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

2011-12-02T21:21:00.001-05:00

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

2011-12-01T18:48:00.001-05:00

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.

Teen Mom?

2011-11-30T19:27:00.001-05:00

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

2011-11-29T17:58:00.001-05:00

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

2011-11-27T19:25:00.001-05:00

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

2011-11-17T20:03:00.001-05:00

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.

2011-11-15T14:52:00.001-05:00

At times when you see someone going through a circumstancethe best way to show them that you care is to let them go through theirsituation alone. It’s when they are alone that change will have completeliberty to take place.

They will be forced to recognize themselves for who theyreally are.

Sometimes, if we aren't careful, our intention to make someone feelgood about who they are can be like a sheet that blocks them from seeing theirtrue 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.

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

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

Pancakes

2011-11-13T11:54:00.001-05:00

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

2011-11-11T23:55:00.003-05:00

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

2011-11-11T21:00:00.002-05:00

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.

Electricity

2011-10-31T21:06:00.000-05:00

There was a recent snow storm that went through the tri-state area the other day. My Facebook news feed was full of mobile status updates talking about the fact that there was no electricity.

Let me tell you about the electricity in Haiti!

For those of you who don't know, the electricity in Haiti is such that we get power...well, no one really knows when we will get it. When we do, we don't know how long it will last. Sometimes it will be on for five minutes sometimes it will last for 5 hours. When we don't have it we light candles and pray that it comes back in a timely manner. It could be an entire day before we can charge our cellphones and surf the web. Life is hard when you don't have electricity; no internet, no water pressure, no fans.

There's something that I've realized; when there isn't any electricity there are less things that can distract and more time to think. So when you have a blackout just sit in the dark and think (of Haiti, perhaps).

You might find it quite peaceful. Before you know it, you'll have power once again.

It's Not As Easy As It Looks

2011-10-28T17:45:00.001-05:00

Day after day some how the clothes become clean , the sink isn't overflowing with dishes and the food isn't, well, burned.

I've learned that it's not magic that makes sure the laundry gets done nor God who empties the sink.

It's mom.

Dishes, laundry, cooking, baths, cleaning and disciplining are some of the tasks my mom completes on a daily basis.

She's been gone for a couple days now so I've been doing some "filling in" so to speak. Yesterday it was my turn to cook lunch. On the menu was rice and beans. The rice came out perfect. The beans, burnt. This morning I was on breakfast duty. The task was to make pancakes. There were a few black ones in the bunch.

I am experiencing so much anticipation for her return tomorrow. A big hug awaits her along with the passing of the baton, also known as "the spatula" ,which she knows how to handle way better than myself! It's so easy to take mom for granted, but right now I appreciate all she does for us!

Is That A Star?

2011-10-24T21:05:00.002-05:00

I was sitting outside in front of the house,this evening, taking out Estherline's many small hair twists as Gladimy relayed his day at school to the both of us. As he spoke he looked up at the sky.

"Is that a star?!" He asked with excitement.

"Yes, a star." I responded not really looking up to see what it was.

He got quiet and fixed his eyes upward. So... I stopped and looked up too.

"Oh, that's a plane." I realized, "A plane that is very high up..."

He interrupted,
"Who's in THAT plane?"

"I don't know."

"Jesus is in that plane." He concluded since it is so far up in the heavens, "Is he in there?"

"No, Jesus isn't in there." I answered in a matter-of-fact tone.

Unsatisfied with my response, he decided to ask his sister.

"Is Jesus in there?"

Estherline responded with all sincerity,

"Gladimy, I love Jesus very much, but I have no idea if he's in that plane."

I looked up at the passing plane again and smiled. I guess Jesus IS in that plane. He IS everywhere!

The Business of Missions

2011-10-15T18:11:00.001-05:00

To be a person called to missions is to be a Christian.

Yep, it's that simple.

Anyone who believes that Jesus is the Son of God, who died to be our Savior and Lord and rose on the third day, and ascended into heaven, leaving the Holy Spirit as a guide is called to missions. Whether your young or old, large or small every one is a missionary. Does this mean that every American christian must sell their car, buy a ton of bug spray and water bottles, and hop on the next flight to Africa?! No, not unless, you feel like that's your calling. My point is this; every child of God must make it a priority to share what they have, which is salvation, with others. Missions is what every Christian is called to.

There are the "tract passer-outers" who dedicate thier weekends to praying and witnessing to people at a local park or supermarket. I've learned that these people have a strong stomachs. I've tried it but when I did my nerves played basketball in my belly. There's something about walking up to a complete stranger and telling then something that is so dear to your heart and knowing that they probably won't feel the same way about it as you. It's intimidating.

There are the ones who grab someone on the corner and drag them into the church doors (I love them!).

We have the "short terms", the faithful church goers who raise a specfic amount of support from thier friends and family to take a two or three week long trip to another country. This type of missions is life changing, but usually the messanger is the one who experiences change rather than changing the country they visit (at least this is what happened to me).

There are the "long terms", (This would be me, now) who go live in another country and depend on others to give them consistant support for what they do. Long terms usually work for a missions organization or are sent by a church in their country.

Missions doesn't stop there!

I only listed the "go and doers". There is an ENTIRE branch of missions called, "donors and supporters". These are the people who do things like Walk-a-thons, or commit to give a specific amount of funds to a mission overseas. I can not stress to you enough the value of these people. It's easy to suppose that the "real missionaries" are the those who fit the descriptions I mentioned in the earlier part, but missions can't function without the aid of the "money givers". Not every person is purposed to travel to China and smuggle Bibles to underground churches. Some are called to buy those bibles or the flight ticket that will send the "goer" to that country.

Missions is a business-a business we are all a part of. Within a business there are positions, jobs that must be filled in order for the operation to be a success. Like wise, we have the "goers" but just as important are the "givers". One isn't more important than the other, both jobs are needed in order to get things accomplished. I encourage you, find your job position and let's get this operation going!

www.lovehaitischildren.com

Baths, Bedtime and Songs

2011-10-12T10:55:00.007-05:00

As many of you may know, the family has committed to another year in the country of Haiti. We live at an orphanage that received its first batch of children about 2 weeks ago. The transition experience has been character building and life lesson teaching (and I'm not just talking about the children). Within only a couple weeks I have what seems like suitcases of stories to tell.

Let me introduce you to Gladimy.

He's 5 years old and in the 1st grade. He loves movies with action in them, like, The Incredibles or Kung Fu Panda. He likes eating, well, anything. He knows how to do cart wheels and other things that others wish they could pull-off.

Gladimy is one of the more rambunctious children here and when it's time for bed he's not one to leap into his pjs.

This changed 4 days ago.

We were getting ready for bed; bathing, pjs, teeth brushing, kisses and, last, laying in bed, when he asked me to pray with him. "Wi", I responded and started talking to God in English.

He rolled to his belly and closed his eyes.

The next night, a similar thing happened, this time he asked me to sing to him. So, I sang the song my mother sang to me as I rubbed his back.

We did the same the next night and the next.

It's become beautiful routine; praying and singing.

He doesn't fuss to go to bed now. In fact, he takes my hand around bedtime and asks, "Is it time for bed."

Language Barrier (Poem Written October 2010)

2011-08-11T21:21:00.003-05:00

I wrote this poem sitting under a tree here at the orphanage after two weeks. Thought it would make sense to share since I'm leaving in two weeks. It's cool to read it after being here a year; the "silent communication" that I longed to have with the people has definitely been reached!

Language Barrier

When words can't communicate

and expressions can't display

What is there to do but sit in silence?

and to relay, what you would say

if only you could say

and to contemplate what you would express

if you could digress

the language barrier...away, away

until, then, when communication so clear

all that is needed is a glance or stare

when silence is a story.

Stickers

2011-08-05T20:41:00.003-05:00

What do you give 67 children as a gift to make then feel special and loved, that doesn't cost a lot?

Stickers.

And might I say, I have never seen stickers handed out in a more orderly fashion;

My mom had them line up in a single file. She sat at a table with a notebook and a bag of stickers that had been pre-cut, by her, into groups of 20. One by one they stepped in front of the table and chose their stickers. Next, my mom would smile and say, "Mete non ou la" (Put your name there) and she handed them a pen and pointed to the notebook. They would proudly scribble their name and skip away. You see, once your name is on the notebook you can't get in line again and say you didn't get any stickers. After one hour, the end result; everyone with 20 stickers on their faces and clothes and no one with 40.

After 11 months here we finally got it figured out!

This Strange Thing Called Dependability

2011-07-28T18:44:00.002-05:00

"When are you going to start being someone people can depend on?" was the question my dad asked me one afternoon after failing to do something I had told him I'd do.

The question got to me. I snapped at him with a smart remark which ended our heated discussion. I plopped my body like a blob of mashed potatoes on to the couch and sulked. I thought about the question. It seemed kind of unanswerable. How DOES one know when they are going to be dependable? Was dependability a trait that you need to switch "on" in your life? It suddenly hit me; YES! All at once I was like "I just got to turn in the switch!" I emailed my dad the answer to his question.

This was about 3 weeks ago. Since then I've been an ESL teacher and I've organized food menus for an orphanage. I've also been checking and responding to my emails.

Just turn on the switch and never turn it off.

Cookies Came Running Behind Her

2011-07-18T20:57:00.003-05:00

She finally ran today- more like walked. I had been pushing my mom to try running with me ever since I started, at the end of my school year. Today she thought she'd give it a try. She descended down our house stairs with her crisp white sneakers on her feet and a sweat rag in her hand. I heard one of the kids say, "Look your mom is coming...and she looks like she's about to run".

With a big grin on her face she skipped over to the field to "run".

She circled the field in a fast pace walk a few times. Her new endeavor attracted a large group of children, a few of which decided to walk with her. I heard them talking behind her as she walked, but I couldn't make out what they were saying. Later on, as we sat together at a table we discussed her "first run".

"The kids were listing the foods that Americans eat to make them big." she said to me.

"Chocolate, cookies, cake and hotdogs...and I was like 'Ah, I understand them!'"

Daddy.....You Were Right

2011-07-06T01:00:00.000-05:00

Today is July 6th. It happens to be my father's birthday. I absolutely love my father! It wasn't until this entire Haitian missions trip experience, though, that I started to feel like, "Hey, I wanna be like him when I'm older." I'm not saying he wasn't merited that sediment before hand. He was...I just happened to start feeling this way after I had seen him move his whole family to a third world country with 12 bags of luggage and total and complete faith in God. He literally without a doubt INSPIRES me!

With that said, him and I sometimes get into long and longer discussions about, well, anything and everything. It usually goes something like- I feel like I'm right and he's trying to have me look at something another way, but I'm stubborn and decide to try with all my might to show him that my way is indeed the best. But you know what, I'm only right 5% of the time. And more often than not I end up having to walk up to him, after trying it my way and failing, with my tail behind my legs to utter these words:

"Daddy... you were right".

And he responds, "Yes, and you were..."

After a few minutes of funny faces and thumb twiddling I confess,

"And I was wrong"

Love you daddy! Happy Birthday!

Jump Rope Handles Make Great Microphones!

2011-06-30T20:58:00.007-05:00

I was chosen by one of the little boys to sing today. I walked down the stairs from my house and he came running to me saying "Cecilia nou ap chante!!" ( Cecilia we will sing!) He grabbed my hand, took me to a table, handed me the end of a jump rope to use as a microphone and started tapping a beat.

The first song was "Lord I Give You My Heart". We sang in English then in Kreyol. Later on another boy came and harmonized. We made up an amazing trio! We went on to sing "This Is My Daily Bread". Before long, the boy who had joined us started testifying into the end of the jump rope about God and his awesomeness. "Mesi Bondye! Pou tout bagay" (Thank you God for everything!) , he exclaimed as he started our last song.

We finished off with a Haitian song called "The Blood of Jesus". What an awesome day!

Church, As Usual (Part 2)

2011-06-28T18:37:00.003-05:00

Worshiping WITH the people IS great. It helps you connect with them and understand them but when you're at a place where you don't understand everything you're not growing spiritually. After being in another country, away from your leaders for almost a year you can start to feel a little dry and dusty. If you're always giving it's equally important to get. Attending a church service where you understand everything that is said allows for growth.

You also have to be cautious not to fall in love with the tradition of things. Because I didn't see traditional Haitian practices at this other church I had found it distasteful. I later learned that there are quite a few Haitians that attended that other church too and there were other services held in Kreyol during the week.

Thanks Daddy for helping me see things a different way!

Church, As Usual (part 1)

2011-06-27T20:11:00.005-05:00

We recently visited a church in Port-Au-Prince. The place was packed with long-term missionaries who serve in the area and a few short-term. The songs were in English! The prayers were in English and announcements were in English. "Um, ok", I thought, "Why don't theses people go to church with Haitians?!" I was really turned-off by it all.

We happen to have a church right outside our house, within the compound walls, that we attend regularly the only problem...it's all in Kreyol. At this point, I can understand the sense of a message and sing a large percentage of the songs. I've learned to love this church even with the language issue. I enjoy worshiping with the people that God sent us here to serve. There's something about lifting up the Father the way they do!

Back to this church visit; all I saw was a little American church inside a city in Haiti. It made no sense to me.

Where were the old Haitian hymns?

The group of women with head coverings?

Skirts?

The awkward "Bon Fet" section of service where we sing to all the people whose birthdays were within the past week?

The Kreyol message?

I Stink Two Times More

2011-06-24T08:27:00.003-05:00

I was playing Monopoly DEAL with my family the other night. As we all sat on my parents' bed, Indian style I got a whiff of something not-so-pleasing.

"Wow, something smells!" I said as my head pointed in the direction of my younger brother (implying that he was the guilty party) .

My dad responds, "everyone in this family has bathed within the past three hours but YOU."

"Oh..." After we finished playing I jumped the shower for the second time that day.

Lesson to be learned: Haitian summers require you to shower 2 times a day.

Something Drastic -Phase 2

2011-06-18T20:34:00.003-05:00

After I received the news that we were going to Haiti to give a year in missions I wanted to prepare myself. I figured a broken person entering a 3rd world country without prior preparation wasn't smart. So I asked my pastor what she suggested I'd do.

"look on the internet for pictures of those children in Haiti (the one's who had JUST experienced an earthquake) and look at them for a long time. Hang the pictures on the walls of your room or make a collage if you like. And pray. "

I didn't understand this at all! I literally thought that she didn't comprehend what I was trying to accomplish, but of course I did it anyway.

I remember sitting on my bed staring at the crying kids with bruises and bumps on their bodies. As I looked I prayed. I wasn't praying for them I was praying for me (because I was supposed to be preparing myself). I asked God to prepare me and lead me. As I prayed I began to cry. My heart began to ache for these children. I was experiencing compassion; an overwhelming sense of love! I didn't realize it at the time but this was the best self preparation I could have ever asked for.

Building a House of Clouds

2011-06-17T16:14:00.002-05:00

Wouldn't it be lovely if we could just Google search our future? Type in some "keywords" and BANG! in Wikipedia there's an entry called "Ceci's Future".

With school out of the way(summer vacation!!), now is the time to plan, figure out, envision, decide and seek. These are the weeks whose nights leave me lying in bed for hours in thought about how to organize my future. Questions.... Obscurity, not stress, just confusion.
It's a process that takes more than seconds to complete, in fact, no one knows how long "future finding" takes; for some it's a day, for others weeks or years. When trying to find your future you're literally discovering a mesh of ideas and plans that, at the time, are completely invisible and theoretical. It's like trying to make a house out of nothing but clouds.

My dad made a good point this morning (as I shared with him my MANY thoughts about my future). He basically said If finding one's future was that easy (as easy as a Google search) there would be no reason for Faith. Faith is the element that makes all those invisible ideas easier to understand. Faith makes the future something we can believe.

Pray for Faith because Faith makes the Future less cloudy.

Don't Want To Be A Blogger

2011-06-14T10:01:00.004-05:00

~~When you try something new there is always the chance of making a mistake.~~ Whenever you do something there will always be the possibility of making a mistake. Trying to avoid the mistake is difficult and tiring. The mistake will always seem to creep up on you anyway. So what is one to do?

As of last night, I've only written a handful of blog entries but I've already made a few mistakes- telling too much or not explaining well enough. (only I know how many times I've clicked "edit post"). I was about to throw in the towel. I didn't see the value in trying to have people understand me when I know that there will always be those who misinterpret and misjudge. I told my dad,

"I don't want to be a blogger".

He showed me the blogs of those living in Haiti. We read over their experiences and I related completely. They were truthful and honest. They were funny and lighthearted. I realized if I'm going to be a missionary I need to learn how to blog. People need to know what's going on in the missions field. I stood from my chair and said

"I'll know how to blog by the age of 20. I may end up with a few scars, but I'll know how to blog when I'm a missionary."

So, what IS one to do?

Keep blogging.

He Kicked It

2011-06-12T19:18:00.007-05:00

The orphanage has two large lights. One works, the other doesn't, or didn't, until a few days ago.

The one big light lights the empty fields beside the church and always has.

The other, was meant to light the pavement in front of the church and for as long as I've been here it hasn't worked. I think the reason for this is because it's hard to find a ladder that tall.

After church the other night I looked up and saw this big blue light shining down! I was surprised. I went and asked one of the older boys how this happened. He said one of the other boys kicked it. "He kicked it?!" I asked.

"he kicked it." the boy reiterated.

HA! I don't know if this it true or just another rumor but I think it's funny!

Skinnys and Skirts

2011-06-09T08:51:00.009-05:00

For those who don't know me well; I love skinny jeans. With skinny jeans come many fun stories (I'll share them in time).

It could be the hottest of all summers and you'll still find me strutting my dark blue denims. You can imagine the "warnings" I received before moving to a country where almost all women wear skirts. I hardly ever put on a skirt; but I hadn't been to Haiti yet so I felt that it was important to listen to all warnings and alerts people would offer me. I made up in my mind that giving up pants wasn't that bad. In the back of my mind I figured I'd "break the chains of bondage" and wear a pair every once in a while.

When gathering my clothes for the trip I packed exactly 1 pair of skinny jeans, wore a pair and brought ALL the skirts I owned (which was about 4 skirts).
In March I went back to the states. When gathering clothes to return to Haiti again I packed 2 more skinnys and 6, yes, 6 skirts (that I had purchased specifically for my return). It's not so much bondage as it is comfortable, because of the heat, to wear skirts. I still slip on my old friends, in fact, just the other day I had on some zebra print skinnys.

No need to "change your ways". Let me inform- if you plan on coming to Haiti- go ahead bring the pants, but you'll find the skirt to be more comfortable.

Christ sustained all manner of pains

2011-06-06T20:33:00.001-05:00

Journal Entry From: February 3rd, 2011

I've been going through some things emotionally, mainly because of hormones. Even so, the sadness that I experience (though it's definitely not depression and it's clearly temporary) seems a bit overwhelming at the time. With that, I found some relief today when I read a story in "Jesus Freak". It was about a man who gave his life for the Truth, like all the other stories in "Jesus Freak" but something stuck out...

Before the man was executed he was asked why he was so "merry" on such an occasion. His response was this:

"Christ sustained all manner of pains and conflicts...facing hell and death for our sins. Through his suffering He freed those who believe in Him from the fear of facing suffering ourselves"

WOWZAH! If I may,

I don't plan on getting executed anytime soon or experiencing great sufferings, I mean my latest "suffering" has been whether or not I'm ready to move out of my parents' house (never know until it's time). I think the lesson in this is that as sons and daughters of Christ we should have the ability to endure. Endure all troubles, all sicknesses, all strife, all neglect, all loneliness, all pain, everything.

Why?

Because Christ bore it all. Period.

Look Through My Kaleidoscope!

2011-06-01T19:30:00.004-05:00

A journal entry written on November 13th 2010 (the day after my 17th birthday)

I have received many emails from friends and family posing me questions inquiring about my experiences here in Haiti. "Give me your perspective" or "describe a typical day" they say. They are simple inquiries but giving responses proves to be very difficult.

My perspective is like looking through a kaleidoscope- if you try to look through it you'll see something different and if I try to describe it, you probably won't understand. As for describing a typical day, there is no such thing as a typical day. Everyday is different; with lessons to be learned, words to discover and patience to gain. I try to give them a taste of what goes on around here but I never feel quite satisfied with my explanations.

I mean, on my birthday I cried over a mirror (that was given to me as a gift). That is very hard to explain- crying on your birthday.

Something Drastic

2011-05-31T21:59:00.000-05:00

As I sit here thinking about what to write for my very first blog entry I find myself trying to find something cunning and profound that would have the ability to blow people away. HA! Not going to happen. So, instead I'll just write and let the profoundness take care of itself.

February of last year was a time of complete renovation of myself; my life, my heart, my lifestyle and my beliefs. My second life had been uncovered and I didn't know who I was anymore. I was at a point where I was like,

"I'm going to screw things up again if I don't do something to make a change."

I shared with my mother, one morning,

"I just need something drastic to happen in my life"

I then gave her a list of things that I could do; start a business, go to military school, live with someone who would watch me 24/7, get a job or live with my Grandparents in Paraguay.

I was serious. I needed something drastic. My mother responded with, "Pray and ask God."

I was a little disappointed. God and I weren't on a best friend basis at that point. I didn't feel like having a heart to heart with him, but I trusted my mom. She had remained strong and stable through all my mess and I had a massive amount of respect for her.

So I prayed.

No lie, a week later our family was on our way to a year long missions trip to Haiti.

An answer to prayer?

As of now, I've been in Haiti 8 months.

That was something drastic.

Here's the aftermath...