Eight More Weeks

In just eight weeks, my family and I will depart for our long-term stay in Haiti.  To clarify what “long-term” means to us – we don’t really know; it’s just going to be more than a couple of months.  We plan on staying as long as the Lord asks us to, so it’s pretty open-ended.   I truly have no idea how long we’ll be there.  I can’t even try to figure it out. 

As the weeks are flying by, our departure date quickly approaches.  I am thinking more and more about upcoming good-byes.  It fills me with sadness and dread.

My husband and I have never lived farther than ten miles or so from where we grew up.  In fact, the farthest we’ve ever strayed from our current zip code is when we were newlyweds and moved just past the county line.  My mom thought we were ridiculously out in the boondocks then.

And now, we’re about to leave the country, moving to an impoverished island in the Caribbean.  Good grief, so much for taking baby steps.

I have been thinking about those last few days we’ll be here in Kentucky, saying good-bye to those precious friends and family members we love.  To be honest, I dread it.  I will go ahead and pack away my mascara, because I’ll have hideous raccoon eyes if I try to wear any.  Perhaps I will surprise myself and handle it all with dignified poise, but I fully expect to have several bouts of the ugly crying spells.  Most likely I will be a snotty, red-nosed, puffy-eyed, pathetic lump of emotional wreckage.  Oh, and I’ll need to be strong for my husband and kids, so those horrid melt-downs will probably happen in the bathroom or in my car.  (If you spot me driving down the road, just give me plenty of swerving room – I’ll be steering with my knee while I blow my nose once again.)   I will emerge from the bathroom looking like some monster from a poorly funded horror film.  If you ask me if I’m ok, I’ll put on a fake smile and say, “Sure!”  Don’t question me beyond that, unless you are prepared for a snotfest.

The thing that gets to me the most right now is watching the young kids in our family, both mine and Brennon’s.  My nieces are so tiny and sweet.  Kaylee has me wrapped around her little finger.  I adore the age she’s at; being three is such a fun mixture of toddler and big-girlness.  I love to listen to her talk as she plays and lets her imagination go wild.  I just melt.  And Aubrey is just an infant.  With each week she changes so much.  I can’t imagine how much she’ll grow and change while I’m gone.  On Brennon’s side of the family, little man Stephen immediately comes to mind.  Why, in just a few months’ time, he’s liable to be driving a four-wheeler or climbing trees without any help.  When we come home, I hope he remembers that I’m his dinosaur-growling buddy.  I sure don’t want to just be some weirdo lady that shows up one day making strange growling sounds in an effort to be funny. 

Kaylee giving her approval on the new sister.

Me and Aubrey

Stephen is halfway grown and he's not even 2 years old yet!

I think about the bigger kids, too.  MaKayla will be a senior in the fall.  She’ll soon be an adult and off into the world herself.  Bailey is barely a kid anymore; he’s already proving to be a young man with his mannerisms and thoughtfulness.  I even got a hug out of that cool kid yesterday!  And then I think about that baby in Sara’s womb.  That little peanut of a baby girl will arrive while we’re gone, and that’s going to be an event I won’t want to miss….but I will.  I’m sure the doctor and nurses can handle it without me, but a birth is such an incredible celebration to be a part of.

My mom is going to have a really tough time letting me go.  My dad will too, but being a man who tends to keep his thoughts to himself, he won’t tell me how hard the goodbye hurts him.   But I’ll know.  And that’s the thing that brings tears to my eyes quickest right now – realizing that this sacrifice is not just ours, but it’s a sacrifice that our family is having to make as well, and they have no say so in the issue.   They have to trust us when we tell them that God has asked us to make this journey.  They have to accept that our faith is in Jesus; He is our Lord and we willingly go and do whatever we believe He is asking of us.  I’m sure that’s a tough thing for them to swallow at times.

My most dear friend has decided not to say goodbye.  She is determined to come to visit us in Haiti a few weeks after we arrive and will help me get our house all homey.  Her assignment will be to bring important stuff with her that we forgot to pack.  (Priceless!)  This is the only way Jill will be able to say goodbye and stay sane.  As long as she knows where I live, she can relax and be assured that anytime she wants to drop by for coffee, she can find me.  We’ll likely continue to text funny updates and pretend that we are only five minutes apart from each other.   

So, yeah….those are some of the things running through my head that get my emotions all tuned up.  And it’s still eight weeks away.  Oh goodness, I’m liable to be an absolute wreck by the time June rolls around!        Parents, brothers & sister (this is going to be so hard for Stacy to let her big brother go!), sister-in-laws & brother-in-law, aunts, uncles, tons of cousins, friends (we have such dear friends – can we just bottle up our shared laughter and take it with us?), and long-time neighbors.   I want them all to know that it hurts our hearts to know we will be absent from them, and we also know that we are causing their hearts to ache as well.  We pray for our Father to give their hearts comfort and assurance as we leave. 

But let there be no misunderstanding:  I am ready to go.  The anticipation inside me is indescribable.  In eight weeks, I will be right where I’m supposed to be…..Lord willing. 

I am ready to go.  The leaving will just be the really hard part. 

Death, Love, and Really Living

Sitting bedside next to a loved one, knowing each time you see him take a breath that it might be his last, one begins to see a bigger picture.  The realization sinks in that the time has arrived that you knew was inevitable, but didn’t really take seriously – that this loved one will soon be gone.  

Good intentions and time wasted come to mind. 

When death takes center stage in our circus act called “life,” the opportunity presents itself to gain some perspective.  Perhaps even a bit of wisdom may develop. 

As I drove home tonight from the hospital, after visiting my husband’s grandfather on his deathbed, these were the thoughts and revelations I had:

We rarely express our love enough. 

We spend so little time with many of those whom we love.

We take so much for granted. 

There is no turning back the clock; the past is the past.  The future, however, is wide open.  It is a blank canvas, and we hold a palate of colors and the tools to create something beautiful….if we so choose.

We are selfish creatures, and we live so much of our lives for ourselves.  How much richer our lives would be if we changed that, even if just a little. 

And how much it must hurt my Lord, my Savior, my Jesus…..because this all applies to my relationship I have with Him, as well.

Forgive me, Father.  And help me to love like You do. 

Faithful, abundant, and true.         

So Now What?

I’ve had a few more blog posts brewing in my head, but I just haven’t felt like sharing them with the world.  Some things are sacred.  Some things don’t mean the same being written as they do being experienced in person.  Some things are just too hard to write. 

Since I’ve returned home from my February trip to Real Hope For Haiti, some wheels have certainly been kicked into motion.   Let me explain.

It is no secret that there is a fiery passion for Haiti that has been in my heart since January 2010, when a devastating earthquake drew the world’s attention to that little country.  Not a day passes that I don’t think about Haiti and her people.  Seriously, not a day.  The rest of the world seems to have moved on to other things, but I have not. 

This unexplainable draw is not only within me, but my husband and my 17 year old daughter as well.  We can’t shake it, nor do we want to.  While we can’t explain what it is exactly that draws us to a place known as “a land of unlimited impossibilities,” we do know WHO has drawn us there:  Jesus.  You know, that radical God that tells us that real worship is caring for the orphan and the widow; that when we feed or visit or have compassion on the least of these, that we are actually doing it to Him.  Yeah, my Lord has messed me up….and made me fall in love with the people of Haiti.  But more importantly, He has enabled me and my family to fall deeply in love with Him.      

A few years ago, I said “Yes.”  Yes to whatever it was God wanted me to do.  I knew He was asking me to join Him in the mission field (which is a very cliché thing to say, since the entire world – beginning in our own home – is the mission field).  More specifically, I felt a strong tug in my heart to go into international missions.  But I was so far (spiritually) from being prepared to do that kind of work, whatever it may be.  And our family was in no way able to afford the freedom to drop everything and go abroad.  Yet, I had a dream that Jesus Himself planted in my heart of serving Him with my family somewhere, somehow.  It’s a dream that includes sacrifice, faithfulness, adventure, and experiencing the love of God in a way so pure and precious.

For the past year, Brennon and I have known something big was brewing for us, something that includes Haiti.  The harder we would try to figure it out, the fuzzier it all got.  But we have known one thing since our first trip to the country last year:  being in Haiti feels strangely like being at home-away-from-home.  Not because it’s comfortable or peaceful, not because we know so many people there or speak the language, not because we like the high risk of getting malaria or get a kick out of being in a country with such political instability.  In fact, I prefer an abundant supply of electricity, clean water (that won’t give me cholera), and Wal-Mart.  I love driving on smooth roads to go to buy a milkshake whenever the urge hits me.  I love knowing that we can be at either of our parents’ homes in five to ten minutes.  I love that my kids are growing up in the same town that both my husband and I did. 

But it’s not about me.  That’s a long, hard lesson to learn.  But I’ve learned it.

So what now?  Well, after months and months…and more months….of praying and seeking and quietly waiting and actively pursuing, this crazy puzzle is starting to fall into place.  It’s similar to putting together a jigsaw puzzle.  It’s like that moment when enough pieces are finally in place that you can actually see the picture forming in front of you – a picture that you knew would be there, you just couldn’t imagine what it would actually look like in real life. 

I guess you could say that we are finally seeing the picture God has laid out in front of us.  We finally know what we’re going after.  We think so, at least.

This summer, probably in late June, our family – me, my husband, and our 17 year old and 11 year old daughters, will get on a plane bound for Haiti.  And we will be gone for a while.  How long?  We don’t know.  We’ll give it a few months, reevaluate, and keep on serving God there in the Caribbean if that’s what He wants us to do.  We’re letting Him take the wheel, so we’ll try our best to hang in there as long as He wants us there.  We aren’t putting a time limit on God. 

We will be going to an impoverished mountain village called Cazale to join in the efforts to be the hands and feet of Jesus to the Haitian people through the ministry Real Hope for Haiti.  Yes, that place I visited in February was seemingly a right fit.  So many pieces of our puzzle finally took shape during that week. 

It’s crazy, exciting, scary, and then some.  But most of all, it is right for us at this point in our lives.

What will we be doing?  We don’t exactly know.  Brennon will be doing manly work stuff.  I will be doing office duties and loving on kids.  Lesley will be taking tons of photos and finding her niche within the ministry, as well as taking online college classes.  Brianna will be playing and homeschooling and discovering a new world.  All four of us will have to learn to live in a third world country where there is no municipal electricity or water, where we make sure to take our anti-malaria pills and try not to get infested with worms, where there is no fast-food (unless you want to buy a fried fish – bones and eyeballs included - from the vendor across the street), where there is no 911.  We will have to learn the language and adjust to living in a tropical climate….without air conditioning.  In addition, we’ll be doing lots of things we never expected or could even dream of.  I’ll have to fill you in on those things as they happen!

For the next three months we will be getting ourselves ready for the move.  A bunch of logistical stuff has to be worked out between now and then, but we’re on it.  All those questions you may be thinking, we’ve already thought of.  We don’t have all the answers yet nor do we have a perfect game plan, but we’re heading in the right direction, we’ve got some incredible missionary veterans to guide us, and God is in control.  So the minute I start to feel anxiety grip my throat and my brain begins to spin, I remind myself that the Creator of the universe is the one sending us to Haiti, so I know He can handle the details. 

I trust Him.

So, there you go.  That’s what’s next.  It’s going to be a wild ride, and you’re invited to join us vicariously through this blog and through prayers.  And remember, it’s not about us.  It’s all about Jesus.

Truly yours,

Allison

Smiles and Kisses

I can’t imagine anything more fulfilling to me than sharing smiles and kisses with kids.  Seriously. 

Smiles and kisses don’t care what language you speak, your age, gender or skin color.  They don’t require a degree or specialized training.  Previous experience isn’t even necessary.    

The coolest thing about smiles and kisses are how simple, yet wonderfully powerful they are.

They are free.  They never run out.  And they bring joy to the giver and the recipient. 

I adore making little kids smile, especially if it’s a challenge.  I will go to great lengths to accomplish a shared smile.  No shame or loss of dignity will stop me, as I make ridiculous faces and play endless matches of peek-a-boo.  Though no words may be spoken, a smile speaks volumes.  It’s the outward expression from the depths of one’s soul.  I’m not referring to a cordial smile, but a real smile.  The difference is felt as a heart-connection is made during a real shared smile.

Giving kisses, for me, is a magical transference of love and affection from my being to the child’s.  That may sound overly dramatic, but I believe it.  I have experienced it time and time again.  A high-five is nice, and a hug is quite personal, but a kiss is something special.  It says that I find great value in you, and I willingly give up all my personal space to show you that I mean it.    

When I’ve gone to Haiti, I bet you can guess what I’ve spent a lot of time doing.  This is what I’ve witnessed there that has stirred my heart to share smiles and kisses:

Beautiful brown babies.  Every. Single. One.  (Note: I consider my 17 year old my “baby,” so I use the word “babies” in a very broad sense.) 

Loneliness.  Homesick.  Missing momma or papa.    

Hearts scarred from abandonment or neglect.

Souls aching from being hungry for love and affection, which is even more painful than the torture of malnutrition to their bodies.   

Confusion.  Just too little to understand.  Reality that is too hard to comprehend, regardless of age.

Need for assurance and encouragement.

Innocence.

Hope.

A willingness to forget about a dismal current circumstance in order to embrace a moment of happiness.

As His child, Jesus has filled my heart with love.  In turn, I have been able to pour that same love into these children I’ve been blessed to spend time with……namely through smiles and kisses.  Abundant and true.  Just like my Lord’s love – abundant and true – because it IS my Lord’s love I’m sharing.  Real love comes from Him, and only Him.  I am just a clay pot that He has created, shaped, and poured His love in to.  What a waste it would be to hoard that love.  The real joy comes from pouring out that love into others. 

1 John 4:16-21 has taught me this:

God is love.  Love is the proof that God is in you. 

Perfect love drives out fear. 

We can only love because He first loved us. 

You can’t hate other people if you truly love God. 

God commands that anyone who loves Him must love others. 

LOVE.  It’s a heavenly thing. 

For me, smiles and kisses are my love language.  In sharing them, I have fullness of joy.  Seriously.      

It's Not About Me

Before I go any further with sharing my stories and perspective through this blog, I feel I ought to make something very clear:

It’s not about me.

This life I’m living, these experiences I’ve been given, the stories I have to share, the blessings and the heartaches – Allison is not the focus.  Please, please understand this.  It’s not about me.

It’s all about Him.

My heart for the people of Haiti was created by God Himself.  I have done nothing on my own.  I’m not that brave, I’m not that tough, and I’m not that nice.  Without Jesus, I’m just a lazy, selfish lump of dirt.  The only thing I can take credit for is that God offered me the chance to walk with him, and through years of God softening my heart and preparing me for this journey, I said “Yes.”

I said yes to God.  That’s it.  I am worthy of no accolades or words of praise.  I said yes to the Creator of the universe to walk with Him.  I could have said no, which I have many times in the past, I’m ashamed to admit.  But this time, when God opened my eyes to Haiti, He gave me the strength to say yes.  He taught me through the Word that the only thing I had to do was say yes – and He would take care of the rest.  For goodness sake, God has even given me the Holy Spirit to live inside of me, never leaving me to do any of this alone!    

The Bible is full of promises.   If you trust that the Bible is God’s Word, and that God says only Truth, then you can embrace these promises with confidence.  It’s pretty simple (even though we all try to make it much more complicated than it is).  Trust Him, and He’ll take care of everything.

Love God.  Love people.  These two rules are the most important. – Matthew 22:34-40

The big guy in charge of heaven and earth commands all Christians to share His love and teach all people of the world about Him.  And He will be there with us every step of the way. – Matthew 28:18-20   

I could go on and on, citing verse after verse that shows us what we are supposed to do, why we are supposed to do it, and that we don’t have to be tough/smart/brave/etc. to step up to the plate and accept the job.  We just have to say yes.

I said yes.  I’d have been a fool not to.  You see, by just saying yes, I get to have a front row seat in the most fantastic ride…and God is at the wheel.  I don’t even have to drive.  I don’t even have to know where we’re going, or why we’re going there.  God is taking me on an amazing ride, though He doesn’t need any passengers.  He just genuinely enjoys the company.  He’s my Father, after all.  And I don’t have to worry about the details; I only have to trust Him.  God has the map, an endless tank of fuel, and though the ride can get really bumpy, it’s the sweetest ride there is. 

So please, I ask you to remember as I share these experiences with you, to hold tight to the understanding that this is not about me.  It’s all about our Lord and His glory.  All good things come from Him (James 1:17), and He is the One to be praised (Psalm 145:3).   

Embracing the Quiet

I’ve been home from my solo trip to Haiti for 2 ½ days. 

I’ve caught up on my sleep, thanks to not having an open-air market within earshot of my window, complete with a passionate Haitian preacher who likes to begin his daily sermons at 5:00 am from up in a banana tree with a megaphone.  Bless his heart, I wanted to punch him. 

I’m currently working on getting massive amounts of laundry done, and oh so thankful that I have a washing machine, which means I don’t have to do my laundry by hand.  If that were the case, I would most certainly grant my youngest child’s wish and allow her to wear the same outfit every day.   

Since arriving home, a good deal of time has been spent snuggling, sharing stories and photos, hugging, and taking hot showers.  I am particularly thankful to once again have smoothly shaven legs.  Never underestimate the value of hot water, especially when a razor is involved.

When my husband picked me up at the airport (I have never in my life been so excited to spot my vehicle in a parking lot, even compared to times I’ve lost it at Wal-Mart), we hugged and kissed like I had been gone for a week to a third-world country without him.  Our reunification surely made an adorable picture - me with my nappy hair, him on his crutches.  Ok, so it wasn’t a glamorous sight; but as soon as I was wrapped in his arms, I sighed from great relief, because there – in his arms – I am home.

As we hit the road for our two-hour drive back from the airport, my mind was awhirl with stories and information, images and emotions I’ll never forget.  I wanted to spew it all out for him to vicariously experience my week in Cazale, but I had no idea where to even begin.  “What do you want to know?” I asked him.  After apologizing for sounding like a traveling snob, I warned him that I would just start sharing as things came to mind, and that it would be quite random.  And it was.  I wasn’t quite ready to share the heart-wrenching stories yet, though.  I suppose that I just didn’t want to speak of them until I was ready to hear them myself.

Fast forward to the current, a quiet Friday afternoon.  Yes, I said “quiet.”  This morning it occurred to me that I should be able to get some thoughts recorded by now, while they are still fresh in my mind.  But my mind continues to feel jumbled, and a constant feeling of being distracted inhibits me from getting my thoughts in any kind of order.  That’s when it hit me.  I haven’t embraced the quiet.  I immediately fell back into the trap of constant noise here in my home.  So I turned off the television, stopped surfing the net, and walked away from my phone.  I picked up a devotional book and did a little reading.  A little praying.  A little meditating on the Word.  And then I took a nap.  (Ok, so maybe I’m not quite caught up on my sleep…but I’m getting there.)

With just the sounds of my precious washer and dryer doing their thing, I’m starting to get my thoughts together from my trip to that place that is so bittersweet called Cazale, Haiti.  Let the writing begin.    

Are You Thirsty?

During the summertime, I do pretty well at staying hydrated.   The weatherman always reminds me to drink plenty of fluids on those toasty hot days.  Health conscious articles are everywhere telling us how important it is to drink several glasses of water each day.  And if your mouth is dry, guess what?  It doesn’t mean that you are about to be parched; it means you are already somewhat dehydrated.  I think we all would agree – we should drink a good amount of water daily to be in optimal health.  Fair enough.

But what about when it’s not 95 degrees outside with humidity hovering around 100%?  It’s easy to remember to grab a bottle of water when you break out in a full-body sweat just from walking to your car – from your back door!  (I will never understand how I can get so sweaty just from taking 20 steps across my driveway in July.  Disgusting.)  I tend to forget about my need to stay hydrated unless my armpits remind me.  Can anyone relate?   Anyone?

So here we are entering December.  Quite chilly outside, and the heat index is waaaay down.  Almost every day lately I have come to the realization that I have barely had anything to drink, besides with a meal or my daily cup of Joe.  Why?  I haven’t been thirsty.  So it’s cool, right?

Wrong.

Time to do a quick self-check:  dry skin, chapped lips, moth mouth.  Classic signs of dehydration.  I don’t “feel thirsty” – but my body is aching for hydration.   Cold weather is deceptive like that, isn’t it?  And what feels best during cold weather?  Why, of course, things that dehydrate you even more:  hot showers, warm thermostats, and extra coffee (which, ironically, does nothing beneficial in hydrating your body).

 In fact, one of my favorite things to do when I’m fffffreezing is to sit directly in front of a space heater.  A couple of years ago I was huddled up next to my handy-dandy space heater by my desk at work, day after day through the cold of winter.  I started noticing that my hair on the left side of my head (the side I sat my heater on) was beginning to feel crispy.   Now, I’m no beauty expert, but crispy hair doesn’t seem like a good thing to me.  I realized that I had been cranking up the heat waaaay too much and had been toasting my hair.  I probably hadn’t been drinking any water, either.  (For the record, upon that discovery, I went out and invested in some extra warm boots to wear to the office.  My icicle toes didn’t need quite as much help from the heater after that.)      

Ok, ok.  We get it.  Drink plenty of water – even if we aren’t thirsty.  We need it, even if we don’t realize it.  Water is essential to life.  We like to live, therefore we should hydrate. 

Pretty simple, right?  Certainly!

Buckle up.  I’m about to throw this one at you. 

What about the Living Water?  Do I need to drink up the Word daily?  Even if I’m not particularly thirsty?  Because, I’ll be honest, some days I forget that I need it.  I don’t feel thirsty (for God).  I’m not aching for a drink (of Truth).  In fact, during nice, mild days….sometimes several days in a row….I don’t even think about getting a good, refreshing drink.  I’m fine, after all.

Oh, sure, when I have a day that burns me up….I dive right into a refreshing cup of the Word.  Sometimes, gasping like I was wandering in the desert, I crawl like a wounded animal to my Father to seek His Face.  To hear His Voice.  To feel the Comfort of my Lord.  The Scriptures are always there for me when I feel like I could wither up and blow away. 

The Word of God is my cool, sparkling, clear glass of water.  And it hydrates my soul. 

But I need to stay hydrated…even on nice, mild days. 

And then I think about how selfish I am.  How it must grieve my Father’s heart that so often I forget about Him unless I’m thirsty.  Why do I so often exclude the One whom all good things come from when I am content?  I am ashamed to say that often on the nicest of days, I don’t even think about getting a drink.  Or giving thanks for the fountain that never dries up.    

John 4:10, 14

Jesus answered, “If you knew the generosity of God and who I am, you would be asking me for a drink, and I would give you fresh, living water……..Anyone who drinks the water I give will never thirst – not ever. “

So drink up…..and let your cup runneth over.