Four Years

It has been four years since I moved to Haiti.  Today, I am spending my Haiti-versary preparing to move back to America and reflecting on all the lessons I will carry with me when I leave this amazing country.

Here are just a few of the things Haiti has taught me…

Haiti has taught me that children belong in families.

I have worked at two orphanages and spent time at countless others.  These experiences have shown me that although institutional orphan care can certainly be done well, the bottom line is that children belong in families.  My heart breaks for every child in an unsafe home, every child in every orphanage, every child who needs a family.

Haiti has taught me that our faith and trust in God is not dependent on the situational outcome.

Sometimes God calls us to go hard places and do hard things.  We follow Him in faith and trust Him to lead us well.  But God doesn’t always promise to give us the desired outcome.  We follow Him anyway, trusting that whatever He has for us must be better than what we had planned for ourselves.

Haiti has taught me that sometimes, God brings us to one place to show us He actually wants us somewhere else.

I actually learned this on my very first trip to Haiti.  I transitioned from a week in Saint Louis du Nord to Saint Michael where I was supposed to spend my remaining five weeks.  I ended up only spending a few days in Saint Michael, but God used that time to show me that He had better plans for me in Saint Louis du Nord.

Oh, how this resembles my time in Delice.  I moved here with the intention of staying long-term, but God actually used this season to show me that it was okay to move back to the US.  It’s time.  This is God’s plan.  But if I had stayed in Cap-Haitien, I don’t think I ever would have left.  Coming here was a necessary step in making the decision to leave.

Haiti has taught me that it’s okay to let someone else be the hands and feet of Jesus to me.

When it rains hard in Cap-Haitien, everything floods.  As I walked the dirt road to my goddaughter’s house, I came to the spot that is normally a dry ravine.  After a few days of rain, though, it was a gently flowing river.  As I walked across, I stepped in exactly the wrong place and came out with my feet and ankles covered in mud.

Great.

Suddenly, there was a woman at my side.  A complete stranger who had seen my predicament and came running out of her house with a bucket of water and a rag.

“Ban m lave pye w yo,” she said.  Let me wash your feet.

“You don’t have to do that,” I said.  “You’ll get dirty.”  But she was already stooping beside me.  Gently, she removed my feet from my sandals and poured cool, clean water over them.  She didn’t care that her own skirt was in the dirt.

When my feet and sandals were as clean as if I had just stepped out of the shower, she stood and smiled.  I said “thank you,” but I wanted so say more.  I wanted to say that her humble act of service meant the world to me.  I wanted to say that I would never forget her.  I wanted to tell her that on a dirty, muddy road in Haiti, I met Jesus because I saw Him in her.

Haiti has taught me that for someone with an ingrained desire to save the world, sometimes it’s okay to focus on just saving myself.

I have often been told that I as a Christian, I am supposed to love God first, then others, then myself.  Loving others, serving others, and caring for others must come before loving, serving, and caring for myself.  People quote Mark 12:30-31 and say, “Jesus, then others, then yourself.  See?”

But living in a country where it’s a million degrees, it’s 5000% humidity, and nothing seems to get done right the first time…I learned that self-love and self-care have to come first.  Serving others comes from the overflow of that.  I can’t serve from an empty cup.

Mark 12:31 says, “love your neighbor as yourself.”  Not before yourself.  In order to love, serve, and care for your neighbor well, you have to love, serve, and care for yourself well.

Haiti has taught me that safety is overrated.

I can’t tell you how many people tried to convince me not to move to Haiti because “it’s so dangerous there!”

I can give you a thousand responses to this…like “don’t buy into the way the media portrays this country”…like violent crime statistics from around the globe…like my experiences with safety here in Haiti…

But the bottom line is that Jesus called His followers to many things.  Personal safety was never one of them.

In Haiti, did I run into situations I didn’t want to be in?  Yes.

Did I get a terrible Caribbean disease that made me feel like I was dying for a week?  Yes.

Would I do it all over again?  In a heartbeat.

Because the safest place for us as Christ-followers is in the middle of God’s will…wherever that is.

Haiti has taught me to never underestimate the power of prayer.

This blog post from 2015 says it all.

http://myheart4haiti.blogspot.com/2015/05/deploy-troops-send-in-backup-go-go-go.html

Haiti has taught me that there are blessings in the things I don’t want to do.

I didn’t want to drive an hour away to bring a woman from the community to a maternity clinic because she was having trouble breastfeeding.  But I was incredibly blessed to sit with her as other Haitian moms gave her advice and education.

I didn’t want to go out of my way driving a former student home every day.  But I was incredibly blessed when his father stopped me in the street to thank me profusely for the gift of transportation.

I didn’t want to go all the way out to the hour-away kindergarten graduation ceremony.  But I was incredibly blessed to join in celebration with a family that was rejoicing in opportunity for their children to get an education.

Haiti has taught me how to care for orphans and vulnerable children.

Louis was only 8 years old when he spent two hours screaming at me from the other side of the closed door, chucking spoons at it every few minutes.

Was he this upset about being put in time-out for punching another child?  No.  He was really upset about being abandoned.  Again.  By another care-giver.  He was really upset because 8-year-olds shouldn’t have this much heartache and pain.  Nobody should.  He was really upset because he’s a little kid with big emotions that he didn’t know what to do with.

So I sat on the other side of the door.  And when he finally calmed down, two hours later, I was there to sit with him and tell him that I loved him no matter what.

And when Anna cried in school every day, it wasn’t because the cursive worksheet was too hard.  It was because she had a hole in her heart waiting to be filled with love.

Caring for kids with trauma is challenging in so many ways.  I am certainly not an expert, but I know that the past four years have prepared me to be a foster mom.

Dear Haiti,

Thank you for the memories.  Thank you for the lessons.  Thank you for everything you have been for me.  I will never forget the past four years.  They have been the best years of my life.

Field Trip

On the last day before Christmas break, I decided to be a brave teacher and take my class on a field trip up to the nearby fort.  It's about a 45-minute hike from the school.

Here's my pre-hike "what am I getting myself into and why am I not bringing back-up??"face.


A distant view of the fort as we set off.
Since we had just talked about the wise men following the star to find baby Jesus, the kids were excited to pretend we were distant voyagers following the moon to find the fort.


The long walk up.  And up.  And up.


Yay!! We made it!


Enjoying a book and snack when we arrived.


Exploring.


A beautiful view of how far we've come.


There's no place like TOGETHER. <3

A heart full of thanks

I was so lucky this year.  Our 'Around the World - USA' unit happened to coincide perfectly with Thanksgiving (That NEVER happens.  Usually we don't start our Around the World unit until later in the year.)

So being the well-planned teacher that I am (okay, fine...being the LUCKY teacher that I am), I got to spend the past week talking to my Haitian kiddos about thankfulness and how we celebrate thankfulness in America.

Even though these guys won't be celebrating Thanksgiving tomorrow, they couldn't wait to tell you all the things they are thankful for...











This thanksgiving season, I am so thankful for my class.  We have our fair share of both laughter and tears, but these sweet kiddos make getting out of bed worth it every day.

Like Jonathon, I am thankful for God's grace.  Because life is hard.  Orphan care is hard.  International missions is hard.  Just adulting is hard.  But God's grace covers it all.

I am thankful for you.  My friends.  My family.  My prayer warriors.  You are my tribe and I am forever grateful for your presence in my life.

Happy Thanksgiving!

Rest

Every year when the new school year begins, I ask God to give me a word.  Just one word for the year.  Last year, He gave me the word brave.  Throughout the year, He taught me about being brave   He showed me that courage is not the absence of fear – it is strength and faith in the midst of it.  He gave me countless opportunities to practice bravery and helped me say yes to those opportunities, even when I wanted to run away.

The word brave made sense last year.

This year, I asked for a new word.  Every night I invited God to speak to my heart as I opened my soul to what He had for me for the upcoming year.  At least, I thought I was open to what He had for me…until He gave me the word rest.

When I think of the word ‘rest’ I think of laziness and inactivity.  For someone who can hardly sit still long enough to read a good book, the idea of rest doesn’t come easily.

“Are You sure that’s the word You want for me, Lord?” I asked after three straight nights of hearing it from Him.

“Yes, Erin.  I want you to rest.”

When I finally submitted myself to the idea that this year would be about rest, I started to think about what that actually meant.  Soon, I realized that the rest God wants for me in this season of my life isn’t the physical rest of inactivity and it certainly isn’t laziness.  As a matter of fact, there is a LOT of activity going on in my life right now (chasing after 5-year-olds all day tends to be a pretty active job.)  Instead, rest for me looks like resting in God’s promises.  Resting in His provision.  Resting in His faithfulness and His infinite love.  Resting in everything He is and everything I am in Him.

So what am I resting in, specifically?

God promises that when life gets hard – when the storm rages and the fires roar – He will see me through.  I am resting in His promise to protect me through it all.

God promises to make all things work together for my good and His glory.  I am resting in His goodness, even when I don’t see it manifest the way I want it to.

God promises to lead me the way a shepherd leads a sheep.  Carefully, intentionally, lovingly.  I am resting in my Shepherd’s expert care and guidance.

God promises to be everything I need and more than I expect.  I am resting in His arms, trusting Him to provide for every need in a way that only He can do.

Stay. Find what you were made for.

Why I support World Suicide Prevention Day

You may have noticed me posting a lot of pictures this month with hashtags #WSPD17 and #iwasmadefor and the phrase “Stay.  Find what you were made for.”  You may have wondered why.

Well, September 10th was World Suicide Prevention Day (WSPD).  Lots of organizations took the opportunity to spread awareness about suicide.  One organization doing a lot of good in the world of suicide prevention is To Write Love On Her Arms (TWLOHA).

This year, I joined TWLOHA’s campaign by talking about what I was made for and encouraging others to stay and find what they were made for.  I didn’t want to just talk about it on September 10^th, so I decided to make it a month-long photo series.

Now that September is over, I want to share with you a little bit more about WHY I support World Suicide Prevention Day.

*   *   *

I support World Suicide Prevention Day because at fifteen, plan A was surviving high school.  Plan B was running away.  Plan C was suicide.  I didn’t actually think plan A was possible.  I almost went through with plan B a number of times.  Although I never got to the point where plan C seemed like the best option, I kept it on the back burner…just in case.

I support World Suicide Prevention Day because I want EVERYONE to know that suicide doesn’t have to be your plan A or B or C.  There is hope.  There is help.

I support World Suicide Prevention Day because I know what I was made for…but I want others to know that they don’t have to have it figured out yet.  They just have to stay until the do.

I support World Suicide Prevention Day because I believe that spreading awareness is the first step to prevention.  We have to talk about it.

Hang on…did you catch that?  Do I need to say it louder?  WE HAVE TO TALK ABOUT IT!!

I support World Suicide Prevention Day because there is still a huge stigma around mental health that shouldn’t be there.  I want my future daughters to grow up in a world without that stigma.  Again, talking about it is the first step.

I support World Suicide Prevention Day because I want my friends to know that if they ever need to talk, I’m right here.  There’s no shame in saying “I can’t fight this battle alone anymore.” (Chances are, you’ve been fighting it alone for way too long.  So please, let me help you carry that burden.)

I support World Suicide Prevention Day because I stayed.  And I want you to stay, too.

*   *   *

If you or someone you know is considering suicide or any other form of self-harm, PLEASE reach out.  The National Suicide Prevention Hotline is available 24/7 at 1-800-273-8255

There’s also an online chat feature available here: http://www.suicidepreventionlifeline.org/GetHelp/LifelineChat.aspx

For more resources on mental health and addiction, make sure to check out www.twloha.com

Five Years Later

Five years ago, I had the adventure of a lifetime as I journeyed to Haiti for the very first time.

Five years ago, I was looking out an airplane window squealing excitedly because “that’s it!  That’s it!  That’s Haiti!!”

Five years ago, I was walking down a dirt street hand-in-hand with a five-year-old boy.  Dodging motorcycles and soaking in the sights and sounds of Saint Louis du Nord, Haiti.

Five years ago, I was dancing under the stars with Janide, falling in love with something totally new.

Five years ago, I was stumbling sloppily through a language I hardly knew, using a combination of French, English, Creole, charades, and awkward laughter to communicate.

Five years ago, I was exhausted.  I was confused as I wondered if I really could be a long-term missionary.  I was questioning God’s call for my life because living in Haiti was just so hard and I was just so lonely.

Five years ago, I left Haiti with tears streaming down my cheeks, promising my host family, my Haitian friends, and myself that this wasn’t goodbye.  This was just “see you later.”  By the time I got on the plane back to Arizona, I had no doubt in my mind that living in Haiti was my new dream.

____________________________________________________________

Now, five years later, I’m embarking on a new dream.

Now, I’m packing my bags…and boxes…and crates…and tubs…and anything else I can find.  I’m taking myself and my cat and all of my belongings and moving across the country to start a new job.  A new adventure.  A new life.

Now, I'm saying my goodbyes – which aren’t really goodbyes, because I’ll come back to visit, I promise! – in fluent Creole.  I’m savoring every hand-hold, every hug, every conversation knowing that it may be the last.

Now, I’m wading through the bittersweet transition, the heartbreak, the confusion, the joy, the excitement, the fears, the questions, the uncertainty, and the certainty with courage that only God has given me.  How appropriate that the words God gave me for this year were BE BRAVE.

Now, I’m trusting God with all the details, all the plans, all the moments that I wish could last forever and all the moments that I can’t wait to happen on the other side.  I’m trusting God with my move, my summer, my new home, my new job, and especially my new dream of adoption.  I don’t know where this road will lead me, but as long as God is the One guiding me, I know I have no reason to be afraid.

Duck and Cover

It's official.  Mango season has arrived.  And I couldn't be happier.

Every year for mango season, we try to take our residential kids mango picking.  (I use the word "picking" lightly because it's actually more like a very extravagant Easter egg hunt than anything else.)  Anyway, this was the first year that I had the chance to go.  And what an adventure it was!  Here are a few pictures so that you can feel like you were part of the adventure...or maybe so that I can show off how awesome my life is.  You choose which.

 The hour and a half bus ride there.

Off to find the mango trees.

Trying to cross the giant mud swamp.  Only 4 or 5 kids fell in...

The view.

MANGO TIME!!

I call this one "Duck and cover because someone's up in the mango tree shaking branches and geez those falling mangoes hurt...but only those brave enough to stand under the tree are quick enough to get the mangoes...so just cover your head and hope for the best."

A little tree climbing while we wait for everyone to finish up.

Headed back on the bus. 

Some of us were a little tired...

About 1/10 of today's haul.

The moral of the story?  Be jealous of mango season in Haiti.