i don't really care about how one actress wore a gown compared to another. it doesn't matter to me that you have just eaten a brand new cereal and think it tastes great. and i'm still confused why people consistently say, do and write things passivley-aggressivley towards others instead of just telling them how they feel. i get frustrated by people's complaining...God, if people even realized how blessed they are...i get overwhelmed by the world's negativity and the ones who cheer it on, and it upsets me that people can get so upset about where they sit in a restaurant or the fact that their order might be a little messed up. it blows my mind that others can be so jealous, and petty, and selfish, and self-centered on a regular basis...that everything in this world they think is all about them......oh how very deceived they are!!!!!
and more than anything, it breaks my heart that people can see a need and refuse, time and time and time and time again, to do anything about it. for example, last year i started a blanket drive for the homeless in our community...from august to january, i had a sign up next to our time clock at work about it. not ONE person from a building of probably atleast 200 people donated or asked anything about this. (except my sweet friends from my office. thankfully there were many donations from other friends, family, and my church). or take for instance when the tornadoes tore apart our surrounding counties and states. we had a drop off location RIGHT HERE IN BLUE RIDGE for supplies that people were taking to alabama for the victims and their families. it was announced on the radio, in churches, and put on facebook by some peoople, including myself and not one person even responded to it. not one. maybe one person "liked" it...but that means nothing. ACTION MEANS EVERYTHING!!!! it doesn't take a lot of money..even buying a bottle of shampoo would've helped these people!!!
or how about NOW? now, when myself and other colleagues on facebook and through emails and even the newspaper, announce we are collecting backpacks and monetary donations for www.snackinabackpack.org??? ...an amazing organization which stuffs backpacks WEEKLY full of food for HUNGRY CHILDREN IN FANNIN COUNTY!!!! HUNGRY KIDS!!! doesn't that scream something to you????!!!!!!!! but unfortunatley, someone's new haircut gets more reviews, posts, and likes on facebook than something that really and truly matters. so little have even acknowledged this great cause, founded by someone in blue ridge, looking out for the community. yes, people!!! wake up!!! there are still hungry children in america that have homes and go to school!! THERE IS A GREAT NEED TO FILL THE BELLIES AND HEARTS OF THESE KIDS THROUGH FOOD AND THE FACT OF KNOWING SOMEONE ACTUALLY CARES!!!!!!
thank you to the ones who have donated...to the ones who have found this local cause worthy! am i sitting here, writing this, with passion, anger, and tears because i'm tooting my own horn? because i'm better than you? because i'm bragging about my involvement? NO! i am challenging you to look beyond yourself, your pain, your hurt, your own misery, your own little world, your own fleshly and worldly desires, and DO SOMETHING FOR SOMEONE ELSE FOR A CHANGE!!!! give of yourself, your time, your money, your heart, your mercy, compassion, and grace, until there's nothing left!!!!! and i promise you...when you think you've emptied your tank, my Savior, my Father, is always ready to fill you back up again!!!!
www.snackinabackpack.org !!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! if nothing else, pledge to pray that this organization flourishes and meets the needs of every single hungry child in fannin county! my only desire is to stir you, to challenge you, to realize there's a big sad world beyond your door, and it's begging for someone to make a difference!
Sunday, July 10, 2011
Wednesday, July 6, 2011
from november 2010--a love letter to haiti
okay okay , so i've been cheating. first, i copied and pasted someone else's blog on mine, and now i'm copying and pasting my own writing..but from last fall. i went to haiti, to mission of hope. my brother has a desire to also go, and so i thought, for him, and for you, but mainly for me, i will re-visit this time in my life. here it is.. enjoy. :) and i promise..i'll post a new blog SOON. :)
The landing was fast, rough, and exhilarating. There I was, in Port au Prince, Haiti. Exiting the airport I began wondering if we had arrived at the right place. I saw mountains, green lush mountains, and then there was the live music. A live band? In an airport? Had this really been the country that was blind-sided by an earthquake just 10 short months ago? Driving through the city proved that devastation had hit hard. Piles of trash and dirt and concrete gathered at each corner. A mass grave site where bodies were dumped and later bulldozed was just one piece of evidence that sadness had come to live in Haiti. I had prepared myself for tears of sorrow and a canyon full of pity in my heart knowing that I would see these images …but what I saw was so much more. I saw beauty in pain, phoenixes rising out of ashes, people moving on with their lives despite loss. I witnessed laughter, singing, busy market places. I heard a song of humanity that shouted “Tenacity! We will not give up!” And instead of feeling pity for Haiti, I felt pity for me.
Mission of Hope (MOH) did not disappoint. It is nestled in countryside of Titanyen among mountains, flowers, green, and a fantastic view of the Caribbean. It is truly a calm in the midst of a storm. On property I discovered Village of Hope (where the Hope House Orphanage kids will be moving to next week. For every 6 orphans, there will be a “mommy” in their own house to care for them), Clinic of Hope, School of Hope, and the Church of Hope. Our accommodations were humble, meek, and more exquisite than I could’ve asked for. Bunk beds of plywood and thin mattresses proved to be more like summer camp than “roughing it” on the mission field. I was fed well by amazing Haitian cooks that never let us go hungry. We were truly treated with great care. What none of us expected though was a lack of culture shock, a knowledge that while we were on foreign soil, it felt rather like home.
Bear with me as I try to put 8 days of experiences into a matter of sentences (some fragments), as I’m finding it very difficult to write this. How does one use mere words to describe what is so deep inside a heart?
SATURDAY: arrival at MOH (described above)
SUNDAY: Church Day! Free worship, really free worship. We were asked to stand as a lady spoke to us, “This is your home now. You are welcome home anytime.” I cried. Held the baby of a lady whose name was Lydia. Children’s church, then off in the afternoon to MOH’s new property. A land that was given to them by the government of Haiti to build on. Ocean front property with mountains in the distance. Kids coming out of the banana fields from the village. We played games with them, gave them stickers.
MONDAY: Full work day. Painted a concrete fence. Wow, that’s much harder than it seems. Was able to greet many natives as they strolled in and out of the mission walls, either in search of medical care by the Clinic of Hope, or simply getting out for a bit to visit a loved one. Interacted with many students from School of Hope, a girl told me she loved me. I told her I loved her too. I stood in the rain that night. The healing rain of Haiti.
TUESDAY: Village/orphanage day. “River Walk” in a village that morning. There was a bridge, the river, the banana leaves so soft to the touch. Goats and pigs, women doing laundry. A little boy followed us. We arrived in a field of dirt where some boys played soccer. Sang with the village children. A girl named Nadi sat in my lap, she told me “Jezi remen ou” (Jesus loves you). We gave out toy cars for the boys (and some of the older men who enjoyed them just as much) and bracelets for the girls…though most girls wanted the toy cars too. I stood and held a child named Santalynn in my arms. She was dirty and clothed only with an inside out Hanes t-shirt. Walking back to our bus she clung to my hand. “Dear Father, please love her.” “I am, through you.” was the reply I received from Heaven. Oh how I cried at that response….Tuesday afternoon proved to be even more emotional as I walked towards a local orphanage. Good Samaritan orphanage is nothing like its name. It’s a sad place where the kids are barely given enough to get by, despite many donations from MOH and other organizations. I sat under a large tent with a little boy who came running at me, arms open wide. It wasn’t 30 seconds before one of the orphanage’s “mommy” handed off a baby into my already occupied lap. I wept at the limp child that was in my arms. Filthy and obviously blind was a baby girl who was extremely underdeveloped due to severe malnutrition and dehydration. A nearly full set of teeth told me she was at least 1 year old, while her tiny body was the size of an infant. Scarring around her eyes revealed what was probably a herpes eye infection at birth, and probably the source of her vision loss. Had this baby girl just been discarded by Haitian society? It seemed so. I got several different answers when I asked her name, but never got the same answer twice. So I decided the only appropriate name for such a child was “Baby Hope.” I spent 3 hours with Baby Hope that day, praying over her, speaking Scripture and life into her, cleaning her face and picking debris out of her hair. I made her my daughter for those 3 hours, and as she fell asleep in my arms I sang to her “Little ones to Him belong, they are weak but He is strong…Yes, Jesus loves you…” that night I attended a 2 hour praise and worship service at the Church of Hope. What peace I had when I looked around and saw hundreds of people praying, worshiping, loving their Savior without distraction, embarrassment, or regret.
WEDNESDSAY: Clinic Day! I shadowed the RN on our team as she performed wound care in the Clinic of Hope. Interacted with many wonderful people, children, and translators. This day was when I realized I must finish nursing school. I’ve got to get on a medical mission team; my heart is seeing the sick be healed. The waiting room for the ER was not one of complaining or whining, but one filled with singing and joy. Our other part of the team went into a village to paint a house for a family who lost their home in the earthquake while others broke ground on several new homes for tent city dwellers.
THURSDAY: Work/Orphanage Day! Painted more in the AM, found out we would be going BACK to Good Samaritan orphanage in the afternoon! Yes! Was so excited to get Baby Hope back in my arms again! Another afternoon of loving on her, kissing her face. Father reminded me that Baby Hope is “the least of these.” Could it be possible that by loving a baby that wasn’t physically lovable, that I was loving my Savior?? I wondered about seeing Baby Hope in Heaven…there she would have sight; she would be healthy and whole. I wondered if she would know me in Heaven. I wondered how soon it would be until she would actually be in Heaven….Thursday night was filled with singing as Reuben, the worship leader at the Church of Hope serenaded us and God with his keyboard and beautiful voice. We sang only 3 songs. One of them was “Shout to the LORD.” I started to cry. I remembered being 17 years old, driving up a cliff on the side of a mountain in a large bus, going to a village in Kenya, Africa… singing these exact same words. “My Comfort, my Shelter, Tower of Refuge and Strength...” God confirmed that this was my own personal mission song. Heard Reuben’s story of the earthquake. He was attending Bible college with 67 students…58 of them died. He told of a young girl who sang “Great is Thy Faithfulness” as she was pinned under concrete, until she finally went Home to be with her Creator.
FRIDAY: Beach Day! The purpose of MOH taking teams to the Caribbean was to show them the beauty of Haiti, what Haiti could be. But to me, I had already seen so much beauty in Haiti that this day was no different. A day of reflection on the shore. What more can I say about a day with sand, water, and God’s ever constant presence? That night I stared at the Haitian sky one more time, taking in all of the twinkling stars. If I could’ve taken one of those stars home with me in my suitcase, I would’ve.
SATURDAY: Goodbye to MOH. I was amazingly strong leaving the place, and it wasn’t until Pastor Lee pointed out John 3:16 painted on a bus that I started to feel the pain of departing. “For God so loved the WORLD, that He have His only begotten Son, that whosoever believes in Him shall not perish, but have everlasting life.” God loves Haiti. He created the beauty there. His presence was there. When our plane took off, I felt completeness. Wholeness. Whatever I was originally called there to do, I did it. Whatever it was, mission accomplished. Was it Baby Hope? Was it hugging the elderly in the Clinic of Hope? Was it painting a concrete fence? I don’t know. But yes, the peace inside of me tells me: mission accomplished.
Please don’t ever forget that we have mission fields right here among us. In our families, in our workplaces, in our own backyards. In local homeless shelters, crisis centers, orphanages, nursing homes, our own churches…these are places that we can all be missionaries. But we also must remember, as my dear friend, Hollye reminded me, God pays no attention to borders. He LOVED THE WHOLE WORLD AND GAVE HIS SON FOR US ALL, not just Americans. His Salvation and Healing knows NO borders. And His love knows no bounds. Blessings, peace, and thanks to all who prayed for me and supported me.
The landing was fast, rough, and exhilarating. There I was, in Port au Prince, Haiti. Exiting the airport I began wondering if we had arrived at the right place. I saw mountains, green lush mountains, and then there was the live music. A live band? In an airport? Had this really been the country that was blind-sided by an earthquake just 10 short months ago? Driving through the city proved that devastation had hit hard. Piles of trash and dirt and concrete gathered at each corner. A mass grave site where bodies were dumped and later bulldozed was just one piece of evidence that sadness had come to live in Haiti. I had prepared myself for tears of sorrow and a canyon full of pity in my heart knowing that I would see these images …but what I saw was so much more. I saw beauty in pain, phoenixes rising out of ashes, people moving on with their lives despite loss. I witnessed laughter, singing, busy market places. I heard a song of humanity that shouted “Tenacity! We will not give up!” And instead of feeling pity for Haiti, I felt pity for me.
Mission of Hope (MOH) did not disappoint. It is nestled in countryside of Titanyen among mountains, flowers, green, and a fantastic view of the Caribbean. It is truly a calm in the midst of a storm. On property I discovered Village of Hope (where the Hope House Orphanage kids will be moving to next week. For every 6 orphans, there will be a “mommy” in their own house to care for them), Clinic of Hope, School of Hope, and the Church of Hope. Our accommodations were humble, meek, and more exquisite than I could’ve asked for. Bunk beds of plywood and thin mattresses proved to be more like summer camp than “roughing it” on the mission field. I was fed well by amazing Haitian cooks that never let us go hungry. We were truly treated with great care. What none of us expected though was a lack of culture shock, a knowledge that while we were on foreign soil, it felt rather like home.
Bear with me as I try to put 8 days of experiences into a matter of sentences (some fragments), as I’m finding it very difficult to write this. How does one use mere words to describe what is so deep inside a heart?
SATURDAY: arrival at MOH (described above)
SUNDAY: Church Day! Free worship, really free worship. We were asked to stand as a lady spoke to us, “This is your home now. You are welcome home anytime.” I cried. Held the baby of a lady whose name was Lydia. Children’s church, then off in the afternoon to MOH’s new property. A land that was given to them by the government of Haiti to build on. Ocean front property with mountains in the distance. Kids coming out of the banana fields from the village. We played games with them, gave them stickers.
MONDAY: Full work day. Painted a concrete fence. Wow, that’s much harder than it seems. Was able to greet many natives as they strolled in and out of the mission walls, either in search of medical care by the Clinic of Hope, or simply getting out for a bit to visit a loved one. Interacted with many students from School of Hope, a girl told me she loved me. I told her I loved her too. I stood in the rain that night. The healing rain of Haiti.
TUESDAY: Village/orphanage day. “River Walk” in a village that morning. There was a bridge, the river, the banana leaves so soft to the touch. Goats and pigs, women doing laundry. A little boy followed us. We arrived in a field of dirt where some boys played soccer. Sang with the village children. A girl named Nadi sat in my lap, she told me “Jezi remen ou” (Jesus loves you). We gave out toy cars for the boys (and some of the older men who enjoyed them just as much) and bracelets for the girls…though most girls wanted the toy cars too. I stood and held a child named Santalynn in my arms. She was dirty and clothed only with an inside out Hanes t-shirt. Walking back to our bus she clung to my hand. “Dear Father, please love her.” “I am, through you.” was the reply I received from Heaven. Oh how I cried at that response….Tuesday afternoon proved to be even more emotional as I walked towards a local orphanage. Good Samaritan orphanage is nothing like its name. It’s a sad place where the kids are barely given enough to get by, despite many donations from MOH and other organizations. I sat under a large tent with a little boy who came running at me, arms open wide. It wasn’t 30 seconds before one of the orphanage’s “mommy” handed off a baby into my already occupied lap. I wept at the limp child that was in my arms. Filthy and obviously blind was a baby girl who was extremely underdeveloped due to severe malnutrition and dehydration. A nearly full set of teeth told me she was at least 1 year old, while her tiny body was the size of an infant. Scarring around her eyes revealed what was probably a herpes eye infection at birth, and probably the source of her vision loss. Had this baby girl just been discarded by Haitian society? It seemed so. I got several different answers when I asked her name, but never got the same answer twice. So I decided the only appropriate name for such a child was “Baby Hope.” I spent 3 hours with Baby Hope that day, praying over her, speaking Scripture and life into her, cleaning her face and picking debris out of her hair. I made her my daughter for those 3 hours, and as she fell asleep in my arms I sang to her “Little ones to Him belong, they are weak but He is strong…Yes, Jesus loves you…” that night I attended a 2 hour praise and worship service at the Church of Hope. What peace I had when I looked around and saw hundreds of people praying, worshiping, loving their Savior without distraction, embarrassment, or regret.
WEDNESDSAY: Clinic Day! I shadowed the RN on our team as she performed wound care in the Clinic of Hope. Interacted with many wonderful people, children, and translators. This day was when I realized I must finish nursing school. I’ve got to get on a medical mission team; my heart is seeing the sick be healed. The waiting room for the ER was not one of complaining or whining, but one filled with singing and joy. Our other part of the team went into a village to paint a house for a family who lost their home in the earthquake while others broke ground on several new homes for tent city dwellers.
THURSDAY: Work/Orphanage Day! Painted more in the AM, found out we would be going BACK to Good Samaritan orphanage in the afternoon! Yes! Was so excited to get Baby Hope back in my arms again! Another afternoon of loving on her, kissing her face. Father reminded me that Baby Hope is “the least of these.” Could it be possible that by loving a baby that wasn’t physically lovable, that I was loving my Savior?? I wondered about seeing Baby Hope in Heaven…there she would have sight; she would be healthy and whole. I wondered if she would know me in Heaven. I wondered how soon it would be until she would actually be in Heaven….Thursday night was filled with singing as Reuben, the worship leader at the Church of Hope serenaded us and God with his keyboard and beautiful voice. We sang only 3 songs. One of them was “Shout to the LORD.” I started to cry. I remembered being 17 years old, driving up a cliff on the side of a mountain in a large bus, going to a village in Kenya, Africa… singing these exact same words. “My Comfort, my Shelter, Tower of Refuge and Strength...” God confirmed that this was my own personal mission song. Heard Reuben’s story of the earthquake. He was attending Bible college with 67 students…58 of them died. He told of a young girl who sang “Great is Thy Faithfulness” as she was pinned under concrete, until she finally went Home to be with her Creator.
FRIDAY: Beach Day! The purpose of MOH taking teams to the Caribbean was to show them the beauty of Haiti, what Haiti could be. But to me, I had already seen so much beauty in Haiti that this day was no different. A day of reflection on the shore. What more can I say about a day with sand, water, and God’s ever constant presence? That night I stared at the Haitian sky one more time, taking in all of the twinkling stars. If I could’ve taken one of those stars home with me in my suitcase, I would’ve.
SATURDAY: Goodbye to MOH. I was amazingly strong leaving the place, and it wasn’t until Pastor Lee pointed out John 3:16 painted on a bus that I started to feel the pain of departing. “For God so loved the WORLD, that He have His only begotten Son, that whosoever believes in Him shall not perish, but have everlasting life.” God loves Haiti. He created the beauty there. His presence was there. When our plane took off, I felt completeness. Wholeness. Whatever I was originally called there to do, I did it. Whatever it was, mission accomplished. Was it Baby Hope? Was it hugging the elderly in the Clinic of Hope? Was it painting a concrete fence? I don’t know. But yes, the peace inside of me tells me: mission accomplished.
Please don’t ever forget that we have mission fields right here among us. In our families, in our workplaces, in our own backyards. In local homeless shelters, crisis centers, orphanages, nursing homes, our own churches…these are places that we can all be missionaries. But we also must remember, as my dear friend, Hollye reminded me, God pays no attention to borders. He LOVED THE WHOLE WORLD AND GAVE HIS SON FOR US ALL, not just Americans. His Salvation and Healing knows NO borders. And His love knows no bounds. Blessings, peace, and thanks to all who prayed for me and supported me.
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