Beginnings and endings

“Often when you think you’re at the end of something, you’re at the beginning of something else. I’ve felt that many times. My hope for all of us is that the miles we go before we sleep will come from deep caring- delight, sadness, joy, wisdom- and that in all the endings of our life, we will be able to see new beginnings.” Mr. Rogers

I don’t know what he was thinking at the time, or what life events were rocking his world when Mr. Rogers was given the wisdom to write these words. As I sit here on the verge of graduation I’m wondering what things in my life are coming to an end and what things will bloom in this new season. The thing that’s even weirder, harder, more awkward, is not understanding what things I want as a beginning and what things I’m ready to end. Is leaving school a blessing, or is my thirst for adventure now going to be strangled by the responsibilities of being an adult? Are weddings the beginning of a new type of friendship, and ending of something treasured, both, neither, or something all together unique and unpredictable? At this turning point in my life, who do I hold on to and who do I release into new directions, new careers, new paths, new adventures? It’s a little selfish, but I want everything to change and nothing to change at the same time. I wish I could pack up all my favorites and walk through life with them forever- dragging them through all the adventures, mistakes, and joys of life.

There’s something so special about the way we cling to the Lord in times of fear or uncertainty. It’s a closeness and a dependence that I crave to have more of. At times like these I feel like my very life depends on my prayers; that unless I call upon the Lord, I might not make it through the next day or that I might drift in a direction outside of the Lord’s will and perhaps ruin my life ( dramatic, I know, but that’s how this mind works). I recall hearing the term, “fair-weathered Christians,” the ones who only praise God through the good times, and I’m starting to think I’m a “crappy-weathered” Christian; the type that only relies on God when my own body feels paralyzed. Maybe this is part of why I feel so alive in Haiti. Maybe because it’s here that I rely on God the most as each day is a challenge with language, culture, heat, spiritual warfare, loss of American “basic needs”, etc.


Right now I feel so far- removed from Haiti. As I near the 2-month mark, my heart aches to see the babies in the orphanage growing up and getting smarter, quicker, and full of personality. I feel the distance between me and my Haitian nursing friends and feel like I’m not supporting them enough. My greatest gift to people is my time I spend with them and often times the conversations we have during this time together. With the communication issues of bad connections and bad timing, I’m failing to meet this need I have to give my time to them, and their need to receive this time.

Lately, I’ve felt that the very things that are beautiful about my personality are the same things that hurt me the most. I’m a little tired of being an emotional woman. I wish life could happen and I could be a little more stable, care a little less; watch a little more. But instead, my whole body, mind and spirit thoroughly feel and search every experience, every encounter and every conversation. Everything is deep and loaded, nothing is simple. I don’t want to wear people down with who I am. I don’t want to be hard to get along with, moody, etc. Sometimes I try to imagine why I have this personality. And then I think, maybe I’m meant to fight. Maybe I was designed to argue, care, get emotional, petition, and do whatever it takes… and maybe my purpose is to “fight” for the poor, the hungry, the orphans, the sick, the dying. I look at Jasmine, “mamma Greg” at the orphanage, and see that those kids would never have the life they have if Jas wasn’t such a fighter.

The stress of school is coming to an end. I feel physically and mentally exhausted from being me and in my specific situation. Maybe this is a temporary rest for something God has up ahead. For now I rest. Boxing gloves aside, fighting spears stored away for another time.

No Rest For the Weary

This past week I went to a hear Dr. Joia Mukherjee, Medical Director from Partners in Health speak. She was speaking at Macalaster college in St. Paul. The topic was Haiti, of course, what else could drag me to St. Paul? She talked about the history of Haiti, the sights she saw arriving in Haiti to help just one day post-earthquake, and what her organization PIH was doing now to continue helping. As she spoke about individual Haitians' stories of people losing loved ones, I realized that this is where I couldn't relate. 

Sometimes I see things, hear things, read things, and don't know how to process it all. This is how I felt after the earthquake. When the earthquake first hit, I knew I had to go down there, because I HAD to be able to relate to what they were going through. I wanted to be there to hold my friends, listen to their stories, feel their pain, see the injuries they were seeing, work the long days without rest, feel the aftershocks, go without food, and sleep in the tents ( or rather, lie awake all night while tent city worshiped). It's odd, because going to Haiti just one week after the earthquake, it seemed as if the Haitians were coping quite well, considering it all. I tried so hard to take it all in, but I know I was still seeing things through my American rosy-tinted glasses.The tent cities were up, people were sitting outside playing cards, selling street food, etc. The only thing that looked different was the house and even those were evolving into better structures each day- adding a tv here, a mattress there, a new door, I even saw the pleasant addition of pornography on the outside of one hut. 

Then I remember the sick- to- my -stomach feeling; the insanity driving feeling of not knowing if Rigan was alive after the earthquake hit. The days of complete terror, wondering how life would go on without him in it. That nothing else in life mattered to me anymore, I just needed him to be alive. How every hour of every one of those days of silence I thought about him and wrestled with myself to try to think of something else.  And then I think what would it be like to lose someone SO important to me, in a tragedy such like this- so unexpected. Some Haitians lost 2, 3 or even 4 of the "Rigans" in their life. It doesn't matter if they have a mattress to sleep on or a tin roof over their head, I'm sure any one of those family members would give it all up just to have their loved one still on this earth. Their struggle continues day in and day out, regardless of tents or other improvements to their living conditions. How does one recover from something so tragic as this?

Sometimes I wish I could understand on a deeper level. It's an internal struggle between being thankful for what I have and at times wishing I had nothing at all, so I could finally relate to my Haitian brothers and sisters. Sometimes I wonder, what the Haiti experience would be for me if I didn't know I had a secure "out." I can live next to the Haitians, try to speak like them, eat their food, sleep in the same kind of beds, but will I ever truly understand what it's like to be Haitian? What would it be like if that were my only option for life? If I didn't have family in the USA waiting to bail me out at the first sign of sickness or exhaustion?

There's a song I've been listening to since the earthquake hit. The title is "no rest for the weary" thus the title of this post. "There's no rest for the weary just another day grinding up stones
Till they turn into dust, it's tough, dimes in the rough.." The hip hop beat, the passion in each word can only bring me back to thoughts of my resilient Haitians.  It's not necessarily a pleasant song, and the words aren't the sweetest, so I wouldn't recommend downloading it on itunes unless you know what you're getting! Regardless, I find comfort in this song. Most days I blast it while I shower, before bed, or anytime I'm  feeling like Haiti is just a little too far from me. It's now moved up to #1 on my "25 most played" songs list on itunes.

So maybe this post isn't one of those "make you feel good" kind of things to read, but I had been feeling this a lot lately and thought feel like I owe it to my Haitians to say it all. And despite the somber mood of this posting, there is hope in it all. I am utterly AMAZED at the Haitians,especially those I know on a personal level. The Lord is giving them strength beyond anything they could ever have on their own. And the nursing school and orphanage are receiving blessings and support amidst this disaster and I think that when all is said and done, both will be in a better position than they were before the earthquake. 

When will I go back to Haiti? This question resonates in my mind each day. But the answer remains unknown as I wait on the Lord for his guidance and timing. Graduation is less than 30 days away and beyond these 30 days, I know nothing. Freedom, uncertainty, opportunity, all of these words relate to how I feel right now about the next few months or even years of my life. One thing I take comfort in is that the Lord knows where my heart is and I truly believe that he delights in my heart for Haiti. He will bring me back; he will let me continue to fight for, serve, and love this country. Thank you Lord for giving me this passion.