Love is in the Little Things

The hot afternoon sun beats down on me.  I can feel sweat building up on the nape of my neck, and I wish I had thought to pull my hair into a ponytail before we embarked on our journey.  But now my hands are occupied and I am cherishing the feel of the girls’ hands clinging to mine too much to let them go.  So instead, I endure the heat and the sweat and the sun as I lead my students home after school.

It’s a long walk to Synthia’s house.  As we go, I can feel dirt getting kicked up off the ground and clinging to my legs.  I can feel tiny stones slipping into the cracks in my shoes.  Again, I endure – too content in what I’m doing to stop and dust off my legs or shake out my shoes.

We pass by cows grazing on the almost non-existent grass beside the dirt path.  We sidestep dozens of mango pits that dozens of school children have discarded on their way home from dozens of different schools.  We greet the road-side merchants who are selling everything from charcoal and rice to toothpaste and baby clothes.

This is a typical afternoon walk in Balan, Haiti – the small poverty-stricken area in which I work.

Finally, after twenty minutes, we turn down an even smaller, dustier dirt road and find our way to Synthia’s house – a small one-room building made of cheap cement.  I stop at the entrance to her yard to say goodbye.  Synthia’s brother hurries into the house without a second glance, but Synthia hangs back.  Soon, her face is buried in my skirt in an awkward waist-high hug.  Kneeling down to her level, I kiss her cheek and let her wrap her arms around my neck in a tight embrace.  I stay like that – crouched in the dust with Synthia in my arms – for a few minutes.  Finally, I convince her to let go.  I wish her a good afternoon, let her kiss me on the cheek one last time, then return to the road with Millie.

Our journey continues.

At first, Millie and I walk hand in hand, but soon, her gentle voice rises to my ears.  “Madame Erin,” she says quietly.  “Mwen vle ou pote m.”  I want you to carry me.

I open my mouth to say "no, not this time," but then I remember that a mile is a long walk for little legs.  Smiling to myself and thinking about all the ridiculous things I do for my students, I stoop in front of her and scoop her into my arms.

As I carry Millie home, a gentle breeze kisses the air.  I cherish the feel of the wind on my face, a child on my hip, and a smile on my face.  It’s a good combination.

When we reach Millie’s house, my arms are tired and my back aches, but my heart is full. 

Sometimes, my head tries to tell me that holding Synthia’s hand when we walk home, greeting the merchants when we pass, and carrying Millie when she’s tired are little, insignificant things.   But as I trace my steps back to school after dropping the girls off at their houses, God reminds me that these little, seemingly-insignificant things are the ways I show them love.

Because love is in the little things.

Love is in the daily things.

Love is in the dusty things, the hot things, and the ridiculous things.

*               *               *

Let all that you do be done in love. – 1 Corinthians 16:14

Friday Five

Five Fun Things We Did In Kindergarten

1. Played new games and read new books.

We started off the trimester with some fun new things.  The new file folder games and new superhero books were a huge hit!

2. Celebrated 100 days of school.

To celebrate being "100 days smarter," we ate 100 jelly beans, made necklaces with 100 Fruit Loops, played a relay race with 100 stickers, and made sunglasses with the number 100.

3. Had our first PE class.

What do you do when you find you have an extra 20 minutes before recess?  PE class!  My kids absolutely loved the spur-of-the-moment activities.  Obstacle course relay races on the playground was a favorite for everyone!

 4. Started studying Mexico for our Around the World Unit.
I really value the importance of learning about other cultures around the world.  Our Around the World unit in social studies has been great for that!  This week, we started studying Mexico.  We had a lot of fun making Fiesta decorations for our classroom.

5. Learned that militon is NOT an animal.

This is militon.  It's an everyday vegetable in Haiti, much like potatoes and carrots.

To give my students a break from sitting on Friday, I had everyone stand up for a quick round of Act Like An Animal - a game in which I call out an animal and everyone in the class acts like it.

Me: "Act like a kangaroo."

Class: *hops around the room*

Me: "Act like a lion."

Class: *roars loudly*

Me: "Act like a......"

Synthia: "MILITON!"

Five Moments to Cherish

1. A silent question.

It's 7:30 and the school day is dawning.  My feet trace the dusty path that leads to the school building and I begin preparing my mind for the day that is about to unfold.  As I make my way into the building, I am surprised to find my path blocked by Synthia, who has her hands in the air and a silent plea in her eyes.  Hold me? she asks without saying a word.

And suddenly her legs are wrapped around my waist and her arms are tight around my neck and her head is nestling into my shoulder.  Again, her silent plea is louder than words.  Love me? she asks.

My rocking arms and gentle embrace give a simple, yet silent, reply.  Always.

2. A crisis averted.

Davis has managed to make it through nearly 4 days of school without any major outbursts or fits - a huge accomplishment for this tantrum-prone five-year-old.  Unfortunately, the streak has to break eventually...so I'm not surprised when I turn around to find him pressed against the wall, sobbing loudly, with large tears rolling down his cheeks.

Glancing from him to his virtually-untouched lunch, I know the problem without having to ask.  Stooping in front of him, I wipe the tears from his face and speak quiet words of encouragement in his ear.  Soon, he has allowed me to coax him back to the table where he reluctantly lets me to spoon warm corn into his half-open mouth.

When the tears have dried and the food is gone, I tell him how proud I am of him for finishing his lunch - but even more so for conquering his tantrum.  I keep him there a minute longer - just to savor the moment - before sending him to the carpet to read with the rest of the class.

3. A family moment.

Like any normal afternoon, the Green House is full of the inevitable hustle and bustle that ensues when you have 13 kids.  I'm sitting at the dining room table with Edline, the lioness of the house.  Strong, passionate, and full of love, Edline definitely qualifies as a hero in my book.

As I talk with my Haitian mom, Melissa's hands are weaving in and out of my hair.  Lousna is running back and forth, popping in and out of the room forgetfully.  Velise is learning to cook spaghetti in the kitchen while Esther tries to convince me to stay for dinner...in five hours.

In the presence of my Haitian family, I wonder if anything in the world could be better than the simple beauty of life they have discovered and fostered here in this house.

4. Beautiful conversations.

Dance Worhsip - a ballet class for little girls that I teach in my home - is something I always look forward to, but never more so than today.  Recently, our devotions have centered on the topic of beauty.  After warming up and stretching, I call my young dancers to me and have them sit in a circle on my living room floor so that we can begin our devotions for the day.

We talk about beauty - both inner beauty and outer beauty.  We discuss the importance of outer beauty and the fact that we are made in God's image.  That He created our skin, our hair, our eyes, and our bodies.  He created them and He loves them - and that makes them beautiful.  Then we discuss the importance of inner beauty - the way we love God and love others.  The way we treat people.  Faith points out that when we are beautiful on the inside, it shines through and people can see it on the outside.  My heart overflows with love for these girls and with the joy of having the chance to help shape their understanding of beauty.

5. A sleepy reminder of my call.

It's a warm afternoon.  The air is stiff and heavy around us.  The large hallway, which is full of benches and chairs for Friday chapel, is crowded, making it especially hot. I can feel Ana in my lap fighting her sleepiness.  As we close our eyes to pray, Ana looses the battle and is carried off into a dream.  I shift her carefully into a more comfortable position.  I can feel her breath against my chest, slow and free of worries.  Rocking her in m arms, I am reminded that this is why I came to Haiti.  To care for the orphans.

I can't think of anything I'd rather do.

Five Things I'm Excited About

1. I finally got around to hanging some pictures on my wall. =D

2. I've been working hard to sort, organize, and label ALL of my classroom books, so that we can have a new classroom library!  (Pictures to come when it gets set up!)

3. 7 years ago, my mom and I got on a plane and went to visit my brother in New Orleans.  Now, she and I are planning New Orleans: Round 3 to go see my brother graduate with his PhD from Tulane University.  I couldn't be more proud!

4. This song that I heard for the first time and really love.

5. For a few months now, I have been taking an adult dance class in town three days a week.  I LOVE dancing and I am so excited for our recital coming up in June!

An Easter Tradition

Every year for as long as I can remember, my mom and I have decorated Easter eggs.  We have used everything from regular grocery store Easter egg dying packets to melted crayons, glitter glue, and sequins.

This American tradition is something very dear to my heart.  Today, I was blessed to take this tradition one step farther and share it with kids who have never dyed eggs before.

It all started with 90 eggs and 2 HUGE pots.

Then, in the shade of two cocoa trees, we talked to the kids about Easter.  I explained that eggs - from which new chicks are born - remind us of the resurrection of Christ and the new life we have in Him.

Next, we showed the kids (5-10 kids at a time) how to color the eggs with white crayons, then dunk them in dyed water.

It was a huge hit.

They enjoyed the process...........

........and the yummy finished product!

Peaceful Chaos

Most of my day is cloaked in chaos.  From the moment the first bell rings at 8:00 am, it seems I am constantly surrounded by little ones who are completely and utterly dependent on me.  No matter how much I teach them to be independent and self-directed learners, it seems there is always someone who needs my attention, my help, or my company.

My morning passes in a whirlwind of chaos.  I'm kneeling on rough straw mats to help Alexandre pick out a book, I'm dodging buckets of dripping rainwater to get Etienne a new pencil, I'm leaning over the table to show Synthia how to glue her craft, I'm shouting over the noise of the school, the rain, and the crying preschoolers next door.

Some days, I can hardly wait for 1:00 to arrive so I can send the kids home, close the door, lock it tight, and just BREATHE for the first time all day.

But without fail, every time I close that door and lock it tight, not five minutes goes by before I hear an inevitable knock-knock-knock break through my thoughts.  I open the door, and there's Louis, wanting to look at books.  And pretty soon Melissa shows up wondering if she can listen to music.  And Carly wants a sticker.  And Etienne forgot his handkerchief.  And Isabelle's math book is torn -  can I tape it?  And Christella needs a chair, Stephanie needs a spoon, Adelson needs a pencil - can I lend him one?

Pretty soon, the high schoolers are home from school and Joan wants to borrow a book - have I translated anything new recently?  And Elsie needs help studying for an English test, Samuel forgot his book at home (can he return it tomorrow?) and Fabiola wants to chat.

Wait a minute - isn't this supposed to be my chance to REST?  What happened to my break - you know, the one that's supposed to be about PEACE and QUIET?

But it's those moments - the moments that I read with Louis, or listen to music with Melissa, or tape up Isabelle's math book, or do English with Elsie, or chat with Fabiola - that I find a different kind of peace.

This peace isn't a lack of chaos.  It isn't a break from the noise.  It isn't a respite from the business.  This peace is loud - it's full of smiles and singing and laughter.  It's the peace of knowing that nowhere else in the world could be better than where I am right now, nothing else on the planet could be better than what I'm doing right now, and no one else on this earth could make me happier than the snotty-nosed, sticky-fingered, sweaty-faced little ones that occupy so much of my life.

It's the peace of being where God wants me, serving Him and loving others.

No, it's never quiet.  But it's beautiful.  And somehow it's peaceful.

*      *      *

I will listen to what God the Lord says; He promises peace to His people, His faithful servants...
Psalm 85:8

Celebrating 100 Years with 100 Smiles

9:00 AM Saturday morning.

I looked up at the vast Haitian sky that spanned above me.  Although the sun was beginning to peek through the gloom, gray clouds cast ominous darkness all around.

Many Haitians believe that rain makes people sick, so we knew if it started raining, no one would come to the events we had planned for the day.  It was imperative to our day of ministry that the heavens hold back the water until we were done.

With fingers crossed, we climbed onto the Kids Alive bus.  I was among a handful of adult chaperons who were taking our 30 high schoolers to Phaeton, a community with great need.

At Kids Alive, our children are on the receiving end of a lot of gifts and donations.  To celebrate 100 years of ministry for Kids Alive International (and 14 years of ministry for Kids Alive Haiti), we decided it was the perfect opportunity for our kids to give to others in need.  So we packed our school bus with 100 bags – each bag filled with toothbrushes and toothpaste, soap and shampoo, rice and spaghetti, pencils and notebooks – to donate to children living in abject poverty.

I smiled as I took my seat on the bus, watching the high schoolers file in.  Breakfast in one hand, hair brushes and last-minute makeup in the other.  Teenagers, I thought.

I had never been to Phaeton, so I didn’t know what to expect from the bus ride.  I certainly didn’t know to expect 2 hours of traveling through everything from city traffic to seemingly-endless Caribbean wilderness.

When we got to Phaeton, I was in for another unexpected twist: nobody knew we were coming.  We all filed out into an empty school yard where we were told that we would have to go into the community to invite children to the event.  Splitting into groups, we went out in search of children and families in need.

We had no trouble finding them.

Although I got to interact with the children and families, my goal was to step back and let our high schoolers do the work.  It was a beautiful thing to watch some of our girls hand out tickets as they invited people to come to our event.

 

When everyone finally showed up, there were well over 250 people present.

We joined together in prayer and singing, then Robenson shared the Gospel.

Finally, it was time to shower those sweet kiddos with blessing bags.  Forming a line from the bus to the school, our high schoolers passed 100 bags, one by one, into the hands of children in need.

What a blessing it was to share this experience with our high schoolers, who have both been in need and been blessed with donations.  It was so beautiful to see them have the opportunity to be on the giving side of it.

Recovery is Bold. Brave. Beautiful.

I am so sad to see NEDA week end.  It has been a privilege and blessing to share a small piece of my story with you.

As I was reflecting on NEDA week last night, I realized something: I’m not ready for it to be over!  All of a sudden, I am realizing that there is so much more I want to say.

I want to say that recovery is a work in progress.

I want someone to know that if you still think about your weight and your body and your calorie consumption, it’s okay!  I do.  Every day.  But I’m getting better at ignoring it.  And I truly believe that someday, I’ll climb into bed at night and as I’m slipping off to sleep, I’ll realize that I didn’t think about any of that…at all…the entire day.  I’m FAR from that, but that’s okay, because recovery is a work in progress.

I want to say that recovery is for everyone.

I want someone to know that you don’t have to be underweight to have an eating disorder and you definitely don’t have to be underweight to get help.  Eating disorders come in all shapes and sizes, but one thing is true no matter what your size: if you are struggling, recovery is for you.

I want to say that recovery is standing up for yourself.

I want someone to know that eating disorders, body-image issues, and low self-esteem won’t go away on their own.  There is a war going on, and in order to fight it, you have to stand up.  Stand up to your insecurities.  Stand up to the lies.  Stand up for yourself.

And finally, I want to say that recovery is bold.  Recovery is brave.  Recovery is beautiful.

As we close out the week, I want to leave you with a verse that got me through many long days on the journey to freedom and recovery.

But He said to me: “My grace is sufficient for you, for My power is made perfect in weakness.” Therefore I will boast all the more gladly about my weaknesses, so that Christ’s power may rest on me.

2 Corinthians 12:9

When Paul wrote these words, he was struggling with a thorn in his flesh, and though he begged God to remove it, God – in all wisdom and power – chose not to.  Instead, He gave Paul the strength to bear the thorn.  God took Paul’s weakness and used it for His glory.

Through my struggle with anorexia, I learned that when I am at my lowest point and my weakest moment, that’s when God’s presence starts to break through my blindness.  That is when I see Him making me strong.  Strong enough to say no to Ana. Strong enough to admit that I need help.  Strong enough to pursue recovery.

If you are struggling with an eating disorder, stop trying to do it on your own.  Embrace your weakness and let God use it to place HIS power and strength on you.  Let God’s power be the thing that makes you strong.  Makes you bold.  Makes you brave.  Makes you beautiful.

Recovery is believing in something better

  

          I stepped in front of the full length mirror and examined the reflection it showed me.  A lovely knee-length skirt coupled with a matching top.  Coordinating jewelry and flawless makeup.  I was ready for an evening out.

            And yet, I had to swallow the feeling of dread that was starting to rise up inside of me.

            What if it doesn’t work?  What if they see through the façade? No.  It had to work.  The outfit, the hair, the makeup – it had to be enough to convince everyone that I had it all together.

            It took all of my willpower, but I managed to wipe the look of exhaustion off my face.  I tried on a smile instead.

            Anyone else who had seen me at that moment would have said I looked lovely – but I didn’t see it.  Years of struggling with an eating disorder had trained me to hate my body and my reflection, no matter how put-together it looked to someone else.

            Well, I thought bitterly, this is as good as it’s gonna get.

            Although I was referring to my body, it was the same thing I believed to be true about my life: it was never going to get any better.

            For years, I believed that this life I was living – this hopeless, falling apart, struggling to keep my head above water, what-have-I-gotten-myself-into life – was the only thing out there for me.  Why bother hoping for something better?  Something better was never going to come.

           

*   *   *

One of my all-time favorite Bible passages is Psalm 107.  It tells the story of God’s people as they struggled through life on their own.  They were hungry.  Thirsty.  Weary.  They were trying to survive without God.

There were those who dwelt in darkness and in the shadow of death, prisoners in misery and chains…they stumbled and there was none to help.  Then they cried out to the Lord in their trouble; He saved them out of their distresses.  He brought them out of darkness and the shadow of death and broke their bands apart. (Psalm 107:10-14)

It wasn’t until the Israelites turned to God that their thirsty souls were satisfied.  It wasn’t until they humbled themselves before the Lord that they found healing, redemption, and freedom.  It wasn’t until they called on God that they found something better than the life they had been living.

Like the Israelites, I was dwelling in darkness.  The shadow of death seems like the perfect way to describe my life in the midst of my eating disorder.  But when I cried out to God, He was there with the same healing, redemption, and freedom that He had for the Israelites. 

If you are struggling with an eating disorder, know that God has something infinitely better for you.  He is the Light that will cast out the darkness and remove you from the shadow of death.  Cry out to Him.