Growing Pains (Rachel's First Trip Begins)

I dropped Rachel off today at Park Valley Church for her first trip out of the country and her first trip to Haiti with Helping Haitian Angels.  We’ve both been talking about this trip for months and all of sudden, I’m watching the church van drive away with my heart in it.  

I could tell she was a little anxious.  She doesn't really know anyone on this trip yet and social settings are awkward for her.  I am fortunate enough to know more about who she’s going with and that she will have a great time with them once she gets to know them a bit.  But Rachel doesn’t have the luxury of having that insight, so this is going to be a stretch for her.  

And it didn’t help that we had an ugly argument last night either.  We have our share of disagreements, but for the past few years, they rarely turn into anything dramatic, so I was very upset with myself for allowing such a thing to escalate the night before such an important event.  I think we were both a little more stressed than either of us realized and it all came out in a matter of minutes and ended with tears.  We spent some time apart and then talked it through and got it resolved but it still felt like bits and pieces of hurt were lingering this morning.  You can’t usually just make that go away with words, so I had to just accept that sometimes, I just fail as a mom and she may be going off with some angst still directed at me.  I’m okay with her not always liking me or understanding where I’m coming from.  That’s not her job.  As I look back on last night, I know I wasn’t being fair to her and I was glad to see that, even though she respects me, she did not accept the irrational place I went to.  It was not her job to understand that I was feeling a lot of “maternal” emotions over her taking this trip.  She was busy with her own emotions and, for a few moments, I was too busy thinking about my own when I needed to be thinking about hers.  Despite the many things she may have been feeling, she was strong enough to challenge my actions while trying to manage her racing thoughts about everything that is coming at her right now.  I am reminded that this is a young lady who can handle herself and honor and defend herself when she feels she has been wronged.  It is just like her to leave me a fortuitous gift at the bottom of a meltdown…even if I didn’t deserve it.  She is always leaving gifts for me and she doesn’t even know it.  Just by being who she is, she leaves petals of beauty and truth all around me.  She causes me to stop and think things through a bit more, to dig a little deeper, look a little longer or listen more intently.  

These are priceless gifts and I wonder if I could ever give her what she gives me. I don’t think it is possible.  I would just be happy right now to be a fly on the wall so I can watch the highlights of this week play out from the front row of her life.  She is going to find parts of herself in Haiti that she would not have found anywhere else.  One week from now, she will not be the same person.  There will be something different about that anxious girl, hiding her face in a book from the eyes and minds of people who want to know her.  I don’t know who she will be when I pick her up but I know that this trip will at that time be a landmark in my child’s life experiences all because she said yes to being uncomfortable. In doing so, she also said yes to a deeper, richer life.

But, for now, she and I will just have to let that patronizing little bitch named Comfort know that she can drop and in and say hi now and then, but she’s not welcome to hang out.  She’s just passing through and the guest of honor is right behind her.  Yeah.  We’re saving the “good china” for Growth.

Agreeing To Bloom

Monique when she first arrived at Kay Anj

She had only been at the orphanage for a few weeks when my trip to Haiti began.  I had seen her picture when she first arrived there.  My passport lie in a drawer waiting for its first adventure while the iron countenance of a newly rescued Restavek stared at me through my computer screen from across the Atlantic Ocean.  As we pulled up and the kids crowded around to see Debbie, one of the founders of Helping Haitian Angels, and her entourage of the month, we were all welcomed with warm hugs and kisses.  I immediately got the message that, despite the language barrier and the borders that separated us, there were no strangers inside the fence that cradled us all within those 40 acres of sacred ground.  

Monique was one of the first to approach me…or should I say my hair.  If her hands were not gripped around mine, they were swimming in the multi-colored neurosis dangling from my head.  I was amazed at how most of these children were so comfortable embracing total strangers.  It was like being a child again myself. I recalled the days before we all get conditioned by the bane of rejection and judgement…when our differences were not used against us…when we were just people on the playground of life and we were all there for the same thing - just to play.  I’ve tried hard to live my later years like that child who can walk right up to anyone and say “Hey…Wanna be friends?”  It becomes an amusing challenge when people are already looking at you as though you just sprouted a big white horn from your head and a long, pink tail from your rear.  But here, it was easy.  So Monique and I became immediate friends, along with so many other beautiful, unique beings, with child-like hearts, including the adults - the teachers, the mamas and staff.  

As we played on the playground, I began to notice all the marks on Monique’s little body and wondered about the stories her insides could tell that her memory may have chosen to forget.  I wondered how many of her hopes and dreams were shoved down and silenced in the midst of the madness she lived under after the death of her parents.  I wondered if she had any idea what she was about to face when her sister had agreed to “take her in” after losing her parents, but instead found herself a slave and a punching bag for her sister to take her frustrations out on.  What must have spun through her mind when she was forced to hand over what little she had left of herself to those who were supposed to protect and love her?  What lies did she have to tell herself in order to make each day more tolerable?

On that first day, a group of us went on a prayer walk around the property.  Monique walked along with us, taking turns holding all of our hands.  As I observed her movements and paired them with what little information I had about her, I saw a girl who had been cracked open like a seed that had been removed from the desert and replanted in a garden brimming with life.  She tried to run away several times that first week or so at the orphanage.  She didn’t know how to adjust to her new surroundings at first and I would imagine that she may have been terrified that her “family”, assuming she ran away, would find her and subject her to grave consequences.  One can only imagine the things that have plagued her developing mind.  But here she was, just a few weeks after her rescue, learning how to smile, sing, pray, laugh and trust.  I saw a girl who was beginning to extend herself beyond that oppressive shell, clutching the rich soil she was now enveloped in.  It takes courage for a flower to bloom.  The life force inside of it has to decide to take root, to be nurtured by the sun, soil and rain and to rise up from the safety of the ground and face the elements that will both challenge and support it.  Beauty doesn’t just happen.  Before it becomes beauty, it must be cultivated with courage, truth and love. It must agree to “bloom” into something more. I didn’t yet realize it as we were walking, praying and singing along the borders of that 40-acre Eden, but I was witnessing a former slave shed those first layers of oppression that kept her big spirit locked away inside a tiny husk.  And she was just getting started.

Monique "agreeing to bloom"

As the week continued on, I had the honor of dancing and drumming and goofing around with many of the kids.  I consider myself one of the most fortunate human beings on the planet because my work affords me the luxury of watching people get free through creative expression and movement.  I see it happen all the time in the faces of brave, beautiful souls of all ages and walks of life.  I get to witness a glowing expression that no problem, no disease or evil force can touch.  I am humbled every time I see it and it feels as though I’ve been invited to the most sacred space inside of that person’s soul.  It is the most beautiful thing I’ve ever encountered and, the deeper the person’s pain, the more bright and beautiful that glow will be.  So you can imagine what it must have looked like when some of these children gave us a glimpse of their soul’s riches from a concrete church DanceFloor in the poorest country in the world.  I can tell you what it didn’t look like - I saw no traces of poverty or slavery anywhere to be found.  All I saw was FREEDOM and streets of gold for miles.  

It has been an adjustment coming back to the DC area after a trip like this.  I was beyond grateful to be with my own children and other friends and family, but my heart aches to see the faces of this band of angels again.  It does my heart good to whisper prayers and thoughts of beauty to their photos, but I long to dance with them and make music with them from drumsticks, wheelbarrows and bricks.  I will be going back.  I knew that before my feet left American soil.  I knew it when so many supportive loved ones funded me double the amount of what I needed to raise for one trip!  I’m hoping it will be sooner, rather than later so I can again stand in the light of that “Glow” they shared with me.  Regardless of how long and how far, I am reminded that there are just some places in our lives where borders do not exist and language is not necessary.  Where there is music, where there is dancing - that is where you will find the glory of the human spirit in the shape of an infinite God.  That is where one can find the courage to agree to bloom.  That is where I’m going, regardless of where I am.

To learn more about the incredible work that Helping Haitian Angels is doing, go to:

www.helpinghaitianangels.org  

ARRIVING HOME

December 20:

I have been home for almost 12 hours now and I’m beginning to feel the whiplash from the impact that Haiti has had on me.  There are pieces of my heart sprinkled all over Kay Anj and Cap Haitian now and I couldn’t retrieve them even if I wanted to.  The carousel of chaos that I live in here in the DC area is already in motion and gaining speed…and with one heel dragging and digging into the ground, I am making a futile attempt to slow its pace and thwart the advancement of the inevitable.  I can’t avoid the pace of Northern Virginia…but I do have choices on whether or not I will allow that pace to steal what Haiti has given me.  

I am excited to pick up my daughters in about an hour.  Seeing the harsh reality of the children in Haiti has affected me in many ways.  In addition to the aching in my heart for what these children and mothers endure, there is also gratitude that, for reasons I cannot comprehend, my children have everything they need and more and I have never had to give my children away to ensure that they live another day.  It’s not that I haven’t been aware of the calamity that befalls thousands of human beings on any given day around the globe, and it’s certainly not that I haven’t been affected by “the knowing” before.  I’ve seen deep and real darkness.  I’ve held it and wept with it many times. And I wouldn’t have it any other way because I’ve also had the honor of celebrating the light that covers it when hurting people get what they need.  There is always light.  No matter how dark things may get, the light is never far from it.  

That light is exposing secrets along my path that have been hiding until just the right moment.  That moment has come.  God has been pouring new and deeper truths into my heart this week and dropping glimpses of his plans and desires for me and the gifts that I bring to the world.  He is also reminding me not to spend too much time soaking in the pool of emotions I am now neck deep in, so as not to drown in its hidden vanity and futility.

It is a wonderful thing to be reminded of all that we have, but what then?  Do we simply pat less fortunate heads and say “Thanks for the extra helping of gratitude!  I feel so good and I will think of you while I”m enjoying this newfound appreciation and all of the privileges that are attached to it.”  

I know that may sound harsh, but it’s just what is on my heart right now.  Most of us talk a big game and I am no different.  We can easily get caught up in a moment of urgency and then when things get hard or when we are distracted by a shiny, new blessing, the clouds of  discouragement come threatening. Before we know it, we can find ourselves soaked and dripping with apathy.

So we are grateful.  Big freaking deal.  Good for us.

Looking back at the week, I am grappling for what I’m not at all grateful for.  I’m clinging to the things that will keep me awake at night and bring me tearfully to my knees in the morning.  I already have a grateful heart and an endless supply of joy and love to share with the world that comes directly from Love itself.  I don’t need a bigger helping of gratitude as much as I need a few new cracks in my broken heart.  I”m no martyr and I’m not seeking unnecessary suffering.  I just want to make sure that I always embrace the uglier truths of life so that my heart will remain pliable for the constant sculpting that is needed in order to become a masterpiece for God.  

Sometimes, we are given gifts that we don’t want and didn’t ask for.  Debbie and Bill Harvey, founders of Helping Haitian Angels, were given one of those gifts 7 years ago when they found a run-down building full of abandoned, dying children in Haiti.  Because they said yes and because they continue to say yes every day, that gift has grown into a 40-acre village that is creating a new generation of forward-thinking leaders who will care for and breathe new life into Haiti and its people in powerful ways.  The shift is in motion and hope is gaining momentum as these kids who were found on death’s door are now thriving physically, emotionally and spiritually as they round the corner into adulthood.

  

But a gift as great as this does not claim its value from good intentions and a bleeding, grateful heart.  It has taken an enormous commitment from everyone involved, divinely assembled partnerships, prayer warriors, mistakes that birthed knowledge, responsible stewardship of generous donations and unshakable faith (just to name a few).  It has been an honor to walk alongside of HHA this week and become a part of what they are doing, not just in Haiti, but here in my community.  Lives have been changed, minds have been opened, faith has been stretched (including mine). God’s plans are so big and we can’t forget that, when even one person is touched by His love, we are all touched by it.  What happens in Haiti or Haymarket can be felt around the globe, whether good or bad.  Everything matters.

Ready for Take Off...

Day 1:

Another night of little sleep.  The excitement was too much and I got in a power nap of about 20 minutes before my alarm woke me up at 2:30am.  I met the Harvey’s at their home and we were off to the airport.  Debbie and I checked the bags full of Christmas presents for the kids and sached through TSA rather quickly.  We were just about to settle into our seats at the gate when a man approached me and told me that I left my phone at TSA.  Awesome.  He proceeded to explain that a man behind me told the guard he would find me and give it to me.  I feared that someone had just picked themselves up a new iPhone at my expense but when we called my phone, a man did answer and said he was trying to find me.  He was afraid he would miss his flight and was pretty far away so he said he would take it back to TSA.  I had about 20 minutes before the flight left.

I felt like I could make it, so I high-tailed it back to the shuttle and then back to TSA…but to no avail.  It wasn’t there.  I began the full out sprint back to the terminal.  I knew in my heart that my phone would be turned in so I wasn’t worried anymore about having to replace it.  Now my focus was on making my flight.  As I turned the last corner, I could see Nelson (the man who told me about my phone) and Debbie standing at an empty gate waving at me.  When I saw them, I breathed a sigh of relief but judging from the empty gate, I knew two things: 

1 - Debbie was not going to miss her flight waiting for me.

2 – She and Nelson were the last two people standing at our gate, so that meant I had better step it up if I wanted to make my flight.

Unbeknownst to me, they were calling our names as I was rounding that last corner and telling Debbie they were leaving now.  She had to be on that plane, so she had already left my passport with the staff at the gate so that they could give it to me when I made it back.  But I made it on that plane without a second to spare…literally.  

As I settled into my seat and wiped the sweat off of my forehead, I wanted to reach for my phone to text my daughters about what had just happened…oh yeah.  I felt a bit uneasy about leaving the country for the first time and not being able to communicate very easily with my loved ones.  I knew I would have my laptop to use at night when we were at the hotel, but it wasn’t the same and I couldn’t text or face time anyone unless I used someone else’s phone.  It didn’t help that the only phone number I remembered in my entire contact list was my ex husband’s because my parents and daughters recently purchased new phones.  I was mostly upset because all of my GROOVE and drumming music and playlists was on my phone and now I had no music.  As I thought about all of this, I became frustrated and I quickly gave myself a spiritual slap in the face…”You are NOT going to let this jack your Haiti GROOVE!”  I told myself.  “You are finally on your way, so stay in THAT moment instead of being pulled down by the negative energy of wanting something you simply were not meant to take with you on this trip.”  I loosened my grip on it.  And that’s when I felt it…A sense of calm and confidence that the only phone I was going to need on this trip was the one that dials direct to The Source.   The more I let go of my worldly phone, the more clearly I could see that the enemy was on my back trying to keep me off that plane.  But here I was, watching DC grow smaller and smaller while God grew bigger and bigger.  And before I knew it, I was birthing a victorious laugh that kicked up from my belly and plowed its way right out of my mouth.   I’m not even there yet, and this is getting good!

“For the LORD of hosts has planned, and who can frustrate it? And as for His stretched-out hand, who can turn it back?" – Isaiah 14:27

Dailing In...

December 12 - The Day Before I Leave:

I have had very little sleep in the past 48 hours.  Friday night, I went out dancing after work just to use up some of the wild current of energy that was pulsing through my veins.  I finally came home at around 1:30am dripping in GROOVE sweat and still couldn’t sleep.   After about an hour of lying there, I was finally able to get a few hours of sleep before waking up from a disturbing dream.  I rarely recall my dreams, so when I do, I pay attention to what God and His beautiful Universe might have to say to me. 

In my dream, I got into an elevator and hit the button to go up.  When I got to my destination floor, the doors would not open.  The elevator and I just sat there like a teenager whose just been told to take out the trash.  I decided to see what would happen if I just went back down to the floor I started from and maybe I could get out of the elevator that was now making me feel a little trapped.  It got back to my starting point and the doors would not open.  From there, I kept pushing buttons and the elevator proceeded to take me up and down and up and down.  This linear roller coaster ride went on for a while and then suddenly, I hit another button I hadn’t hit before.  The elevator stopped for a moment and then rolled right off the track it was on and moved out of the building and into the streets.  The self in the dream could not see out of the elevator but I, as the dreamer, had a broader vision,  The self inside that elevator was growing increasingly frightened.  I feared I would slam into a wall or off a cliff or who knows what else at any moment and I was beginning to worry about not being able to breathe.  Suddenly I remembered my phone was in my pocket!  I called 911 and though fear was gripping my throat, I was comforted to hear a voice on the other end of the line.   But when I opened my mouth to speak, few words came out.  Instead tears gushed down my face and my short, urgent breaths reigned over my words.   The voice on the other end was calm and began to speak to me.  That voice knew what I needed and the more I heard it speak, the deeper the calm spread within me.  I was beginnig to understand that, just because I couldn’t speak, that voice wasn’t going to hang up on me.  It stayed with me until I could get words out.  Right about the time the words began to flow, I woke up.

That same sense of entrapment and fear I was feeling in my dream was like a dark, eerie fog, all around my awakened state and I couldn’t go back to sleep.  My mind was trying to comprehend what this dream was all about and it didn’t take long to figure it out once I started journaling about it.  As I typed the first letters, the answer just came pouring out onto the page. 

Throughout my adult life, I have struggled with certain thought patterns that have been keeping me stuck and causing me unnecessary struggles that stem from feelings of unworthiness and inadequacy.   For the last few weeks, however, I have returned to the fruitful ritual of spending more time in prayer and meditation each morning and night and being more intentional about how I approach and move into my day.   So, as I was journaling, it all became quickly clear that the elevator represented the linear path of up and down motion I have been stuck on for so long.  And God was letting me know that He was taking me off of this track and sending me out into the world (ironically, the day before I take my first trip out of the country).  I don’t know exactly know where He is taking me and it’s scary.  In some ways I am a courageous lion and in other ways, I am just a terrified puppy.  The fear of not being enough and letting people down scares me and I know I will wrestle with these.  I don’t want to feel the feelings that are coming when my inadequacies show themselves loudly and when I disappoint (even when it is necessary), but I have to feel and embrace them if I’m going to grow.   I did not realize how afraid I have been of this…and of my own power and strengths (which are really not my own).  I was so terrified in that elevator once it began moving that I could barely speak.  God reminded me very quickly that help was only a phone call away…but I had to pick up the damn phone and dial if I wanted it.  That’s what I’ve been doing.  Dialing in.  And He is moving me exactly where I need to go.  And whenever I feel afraid, He is reminding me that I am not alone and that I’m going to be ok as long as I stay on the line. 

So, off I go in my elevator...with my phone in my back pocket.  If I was ever going to be addicted to my phone, now is the time.

Humanity on a Swing

Of all of the wonderful things to experience in this beautiful life, for me, there is nothing quite as freeing and perfect as dancing.  Within that realm, something divine takes place.  It is a balm for my soul, whether I am feeling intense sadness or overwhelming joy…or both at the same time.  It is like a key that unlocks and dislodges stress, trauma, fear and other spirit-crushing elements that literally grip our insides and take up residence within our cells, tissue and organs.

As a woman who has come through her own valley of sexual and emotional abuse, I have been blessed with an opportunity to assist others who are further behind me on the road to healing from similar events and I’ve seen what dance can do for all of us.  But you don’t have to be a survivor of trauma to experience the true power of dance.  We are all survivors of struggles of different colors and shapes.  We all experience pain, joy, grief, love, hate, stress, anger, fear, anxiety, gratitude and a slew of other emotions on the spirit-flesh spectrum.  And when we move in non-judging, authentic ways to music that inspires us, we enter into a place where the chains of life in the flesh cannot hold us.  But we have to be willing to step onto that DanceFloor.

When GROOVE found me, over four years ago, I was not in a good place.  My life was in chaos and it was about to take another turn that would make my then reality look like a cake walk.  But GROOVE took me through the center of a storm of debilitating self-doubts and fears and brought me to the other side where the real me came pouring out, one dance step at a time until I began to ooze Karen everywhere!  That doesn’t mean I have it all together or that I ever will.  You will know I’ve reached that point when you get the call that I have passed on to the other side…until then, it’s safe to say that I am a joyful mess.

And even with all that GROOVE has done for me, what I marvel at and am most thankful for is what I have seen it do for others right before my eyes.  Every day, I am watching children and adults from ages 3-103 get free through the beautiful process of dance and movement.  Last week, I gave a private class to a group of women at the resort where I teach and after the very first song, one of the women declared from a beaming countenance “I feel so free!”  My heart leapt for her because I have danced in those same shoes.  When the class was over they commented on how much they appreciated the nonjudgmental atmosphere of the class.  They were used to classes and instructors who would put you in the back of the class if you “messed up” too many times.  But here, they were experiencing what it means to just dance and to embrace doing it your own way.   I shared with them that I was about to bring the GROOVE experience to an orphanage in Haiti and I told them a story that one of the founders of the orphanage shared with me recently.  She talked about a 12-year old restavek girl who had been brought to the orphanage this past spring and it was there she had her first moment ever on a swing set.  They were showing her how to pump her little legs to keep the momentum going and as the swing began to take her higher and higher, she let out a sound from the depths of her belly that seemed to emancipate every captive thought, feeling and word that had been held inside her abused little body for so long.  All of the ugly trauma became dislodged from hidden places and psalms of freedom came pouring out of her mouth through the movement of rising into the sky on a leather seat like a bird taking flight for the very first time.  I told these women that dancing has the same kind of effect, especially when you are given the opportunity to dance in a safe environment with other participants in the course of humanity.  That is where we are reminded that we are never alone in this world and that is where we can connect with our own power and beauty in loving ways.  Upon saying that, I saw tears of truth dripping from these women’s eyes….Another lie bites the dust.

And then there was the icing on the GROOVE cake when my little 8 and 5 year old GROOVE sisters who often come to class with their mother joined in and shared their brave, beautiful energy with us.  The older sister even put her own “mark” on one of the moves we were doing and we all just went with it because it was ridiculous fun and rather bad ass!  I love that she felt confident enough to explore her creativity in our presence.  At the end of the class, she came over to me and said “It’s so cool that you wear all those yarns in your hair, you do GROOVE and you just do whatever you want.”

As a poser adult, I resisted the urge to give her a fist bump and say “That’s right, Sister! I do whatever I want and I am the boss of me!” and instead opted to take the high road (despite getting lost there often, due to lack of familiarity).   I communicated the difference between doing whatever I want and doing what I love. I can’t do what I love for long if I always do whatever I want.  I mean, let’s face it, if I could do whatever I want, I would dance and bang on the drum all day…so instead, I do that for for a portion of most days and then I do other, adultey kind of stuff that I cannot yet afford to pay real adults to do for me.  

That exchange between me and this 8-year old girl was very reassuring.  It reminded me that I am exactly where I need to be, doing exactly what I was meant to do.  I love that this young girl sees the authentic nature of GROOVE and that she, while in the middle of the war on her gifts and purpose that starts in elementary school, has not been peppered by the shaming shrapnel flying all around her.   She has OUTSTANDING parents, a supportive community and a brilliant personality…and, among many other fine things, she has GROOVE.  If only every child could begin with all that.

I didn’t create the GROOVE Movement.  It was created by a truth warrior named Misty Tripoli.  But I have adopted it and nurtured its growth in my community as though it were my own child, because it has extraordinary value in life-changing ways.  We all need a little help (or a lot) raising our children.  Even in the best of circumstances, all children need support and love from their community.  I have been blessed with supporters and lovers of all things GROOVE that are helping me grow this beautiful gift that keeps on giving.  

In less than 5 days, I will have the honor of bringing the GROOVE for Kids to a community of children who I would guess are far more free in far more ways than most of us here in the U.S.  It is a humbling opportunity that I expect to learn a great deal from.  There will be many new experiences for me, but one thing remains universal.  We all speak the language of humanity in our own, unique ways.  We were not meant to express that language as watered-down versions of ourselves.  We need not apologize for how we express being in our own skin.  Our differences are something to celebrate and appreciate about each other.   I am about to witness the beauty of human differences in a whole new way and language.  There will be much to celebrate.  Haiti awaits like a vacant swing set.  Here, I will learn how to dip my toes in the sky and influence momentum…and let go of any monsters left in the depths of my belly.  Here I will sing out in a new language spoken by angels so that I may speak it to others after I leave that playground.    

COUNT DOWN

I am now on the backside of the one-week countdown before I take off for my first trip out of the country.  The right moment and purpose have come together and I am eager to witness what is in store for me and everyone else involved in this trip.  I have no idea what relationships will be formed, what lessons will be learned, what new walls will come tumbling down within my heart, etc…I only know that all of that and more will happen without fail.

I don’t always do exactly what God tells me to do (and that is a huge understatement, if I’m being totally honest), but when I felt Him calling me to this, I ran toward it with reckless abandon.  I know it was the right decision because He has done nothing but pour His blessings all over this endeavor and has drawn me closer and closer to Him at a time when I needed Him to remind me who I am and why I am here.  He has blessed me with a tremendous amount of support for this trip from so many loved ones in my life and even some folks I barely know.  After 2 more generous donations just today, we are dollars away from the $2,000 mark on a $1,000 goal!  I haven’t even touched Haitian soil yet and we are already well on our way to funding a second trip with my oldest daughter that will take place in 2016 !  As if that were not enough all by itself, He also matched me with exactly the right people to grow and learn from.  The more I speak with Debbie and Bill Harvey, founders of Helping Haitian Angels, the more I fall in love with not just WHAT they are doing but HOW they are approaching their mission.  They have humbly shared some of the lessons they have learned from mistakes made out of good intentions, but because they were seeking to see what was before them through God’s eyes and not their own and because they take the time to stop, listen, learn and seek His guidance over everything they do, they have been blessed with His favor and wisdom.  It hasn’t come without its challenges and struggles and any human being will be quick to agree that none of us are getting out of this life without challenges.   But even those come bearing gifts of beauty and growth and that is exactly what the this brave couple are harvesting…growth, wisdom, experience, etc. and these are being passed on to fools like me who need to be reminded all the time which way is up.  

So far, there isn’t one bone within the confines of my flesh that is anxious or concerned about any aspect of this trip.  There is nothing for me to second-guess about my decision or desire to experience whatever is in store for me.  I know I have been put in the best hands possible and those hands were lovingly selected by the Great I AM to change lives…not just lives in Haiti, but also (and especially) those of us who live in a very different world…a world that is crying out for more by way of less…More God and less self, more joy and less apathy, more internal wealth and less stuff.  

As I begin to pack my bag, there is nothing I can bring with me that will prepare me for all the ways that Helping Haitian Angels, the community around Cap Haitian and its children will ROCK MY WORLD.  All I know is that I am ready to be torn inside out and have my heart handed to me by tiny, loving hands.  I am ready for all that I’m not ready for.

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=bWEmf6_o6Dk