School on My Mind…Haiti in My Heart.

                As I sit here tonight (the night before the new school year starts), tons of questions are floating through my mind. Checklists with seemingly no end are reeling through my mind like the credits from a major motion picture, and the nervousness/excitement of what this year may hold is as real to me as the night-before-Christmas-jitters we all experienced as children. Though the results of this year’s relationships, the educational successes, and the individual struggles are yet to be written, the expectations are there. The goals have been set. The plans and prayers are in place to achieve everything we (my students and I) set out to do.

                Despite everything that’s couch-potatoeing in the forefront of my mind right now with simple and menial concerns of my first-world mindset, I can’t help but revert back to what I experienced this summer in Haiti. The heat. The sweat. The amount of water I drank. The bugs. The bug spray. The huge roach on my pillow in the middle of the night. The fear and sleeplessness that followed. The no-running-water. The braided hair. The bucket showers. The food. The beans and rice. The hotdogs-and-spaghetti for breakfast.  The sweet (gross) porridge.The crunchy goat. The tasty fish. The Coca-cola in reused glass bottles. The precious women that gave all day and all their hearts to prepare food for us…

               

The children.

…the way they smiled. The way they laughed. The way joy danced through their eyes. The way they hugged. The way they held my hands. The way they danced. The way they said my name. (“Wwwwosemawie!!”) The way they sang at the top of their little Creole-speaking voices. The way they worshipped Jesus. The way they received love. The way they gave it back in unprecedented portions.

                Tears sting my eyes as I write this, knowing that tonight, although many of my “kids” (ahem, students) are getting ready for warm showers, cozy beds in air conditioning, soft-glowing nightlights, and bedtime prayers all around Lynchburg tonight, a large portion of my heart resides half-a-world-away, in the-middle-of-seriously-nowhere, Tiburon, Haiti. Because, you see, my kids are there, too. Preparing for cold-bucket-dirty-water showers (possibly walking to the nearest river to do so). Laying down in ultra-uncomfortable lumpy beds (maybe made of piles of dirty clothes). Playing with lightning bugs (perhaps?). And pouring out sweet choruses of bedtime prayers that ascend up into the Heavens and touch the heart of an Almighty God, Who sees and hears.  

                With all said, I hope and pray you sleep well tonight, my beautiful Haitian kids. While I have school concerns racing through my mind, know that your faces have captivated my heart. Your sheer existence has altered my very being. Thank you for teaching me what it’s like to be a student of your good example.  I cannot wait to see you again Summer 2012.

On the Fence.

Fences.
They take a long time to build, but they always serve a purpose. They keep important things in. They keep harmful things out. They serve to protect, to guard, and oftentimes, to make one feel safe.

Though they all perform the same basic functions, no two fences look alike. And maybe they shouldn't. Some match buildings or houses, others divide vast amounts of landscape. Some are new and fresh and beautiful. Others are old, worn out, yet still in place for a purpose.

No two fences are the same. Some are small, some are large. Some are just plain old all-natural wood. Others are painted and decorated-to-the-hilts. Some have latches and keys and various deviations of "keep out" signs, others don't. they're more friendly and inviting. Yet, they all still serve a purpose. Keep important things in. Keep harmful things out.

No matter how big or how small or how plain or how decorated our "fences" in life may be, there's one thing to be said for all fences.
They're. Not. Designed. To. Be. Straddled.

Today, ask God to help you identify the "fences" you've placed in your life (better yet, the fences He's placed in your life).

Spend time thinking about the important things it's keeping in and the harmful things it's keeping out.

Then, boldly and unapologetically, make the choice of which side of the fence you're on. Straddling fences only leads to pain for you and discomfort for everyone watching.

Don't get me wrong: Life isn't all about making easy choices and living on the "safe" side; however, the fences in our lives have taken a long time to build. They're there for a reason. And they always, always serve a purpose.

Happy fence hopping.

Fear. Fireworks. and Freedom.

I couldn't help it. I went out to Atlantic beach with my parents tonight to enjoy some fireworks, and it hit me. A distant memory flashed before me as if it just happened yesterday. Confession time: I was a strange child. I guess being the middle child of five requires you to go to extreme measures to stand out. To be unique. To get the attention every child (ahem, every person) likes and requires to feel significant. All that to say this: as one of my childhood quirks, I was scared of fireworks. That's right. As everyone else was enjoying the first-hand sights, I was overly fearful of the sound of fireworks. As a result, I'd go into my aunt's living room and shove pillows into my ears until the madness was over. I don't know when or how I eventually overcame this strange fear of mine, but tonight, as I sat on the beach with my parents, I realized how very glad I am that I no longer fear fireworks. Rather, I can now enjoy them as the sign of freedom that they are. You know what? I'm gonna go here with that thought: aren't our spiritual lives the same way, sometimes? We see others enjoying the freedom that Christ came, died, and rose again to give us, yet the silly ( yet oh-so-real) fears in our hearts, minds, and lives require us to bypass the firework moments of life, shove spiritual pillows in our ears, and miss the celebration altogether. Whatever fear you're facing tonight, let go of your comfort pillows and join the family in celebrating the freedom and victory Christ died to give you. Your fireworks are waiting.