Returning To The Mission Field

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.

He Just Can't Say It...

Today was spent finishing up some things; getting things packed (and not taking them back out of the bag because it needs to be used for another few days). I mean zipping-up-the-bag kind of packing, inventory of supplies for after we leave and making sure everyone is prepared for our 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 on multiple occasions to have him say it but to no avail. He persistently can’t say the word “fini”. Instead he says, “finish” - its English translation. The Haitian born, Creole speakin’ little boy can’t say “fini”.

For example he'd say:

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

Or

“Film la finish” (The movie is over)

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

Responding To Rhetorical Questions

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"

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:

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

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.

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!"

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.

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. 

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.

Electricity

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.

Something Drastic

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...