beautiful nevers

The page has sat blank before my eyes for nearly an hour. My coffee has long gone cold. The sun that was hidden when I first sat down has now brought light to the morning. I just feel like the words should be eloquent. When you had 90 days upon 90 days, what do you say when you're down to the final 8? You could never imagine the story, but you definitely did not imagine this.

As it is with the ending of one season and the beginning of a new, you find yourself looking back. A lot. And replaying the moments in your mind from the very beginning.

There's the day they took in the girl whose last name they didn't even know. The day you taught that class for the very first time. There's the day you decided you were going back. There's the days you realized motherhood is the single most demanding job to exist. Ever. And somehow, you miss those crazy days. The day he grasped a toy and laughed to no end is forever burned upon your memory. There's the day he was carried from the poor house to the nursing home and this. is. love. You've seen an empty building brought to life. There's the season your heart was literally torn in two. And then.. then there's the day that make all the bad ones worth it. There's the day he stood tall.

Looking back, I said a lot of never's. I could never go overseas. I would never be able to leave my family for 6 months. I could never do special needs. I would never love a dark and desperate country 2 hours from the coast of Florida. I would never understand Creole (ok, that' still a work in progress). I could never be a teacher. I would never meet a guy I wanted to date. I could never be a nanny. I could never… never… never…

I marvel at the way He has taken my never's, and turned them beautiful.

By now you would think I would learn not to have never's. But I am stubborn Israel and I've forgotten. Still He proves relentless. His grace is limitless and His mercy great. And I stand thankful.

Some moments are too sacred for keyboards and blogposts. And these final days in Limbe are just that. You've followed the journey from its very beginning, and it is far from over. But the next week I want to remember with ink on journal pages and quiet coffee mornings, waiting for the sun. The last 5 weeks have been a struggle of messy and heartache. But I can also say it has been absolutely beautiful. Never have I been more tested to trust He holds our every moment. And never have I walked away more confident in His goodness.

He has ordained it -all of it- from the very beginning.

May it always be so.

being enough

The transitions are finally over. That's what I told myself 3 months ago as I packed away my Haitian life in totes to be stored until the new year. Routine happened, and I settled into her ways gladly. Somehow rats in the kitchen and screaming children and constantly smelling of pee and dirty sneakers became... well, strangely normal. And I could see myself in that crazy class, with those sensory-play afternoons, and the dirt and the joy and the hard for some time to come. I started to plan on it. After an adventurous journey out, I landed on American soil, thankful to be back in the country of hot running water and laundry that actually gets cleaned. Ready for a break, yet comforted to know my return tickets were booked. 

The past 3 years of my life have been new places, changes, unknowns, plane tickets, packing and unpacking and repacking the one thing that has remained constant-- my trusty green duffel. It's had its joys as well as challenges, its thrilling adventure alongside complete fear, immense heartache and laugh-until-you-cry memories. And I would do nothing differently. 

It started as an 18-year-old in love with the adventure of Uganda, and overtime grew to be what it was always meant to be: the adventure of loving Him. As I have transitioned to loving Him, rather than the places or the people or the cultures He brings me to, I have discovered something greater and far more precious than any country or language-- His heart. 

"Delight yourself in the Lord, and He will give you the desires of your heart..." I like to think this means be a good person, do all the right things, live the right way, and God gives you what you want. The past three months have taught me that it's anything but. I'm learning to live out this verse, to find my sole delight in God Himself. And I'm watching -as my heart desires only Him- how that changes the longings of my heart. No longer do I ache for countries and cultures and plane rides the way I ache for Him. Yes, I love packed bags and hot climates and the blur of foreign languages. I think I always will. But because I love Him more, I long more for what He wants.

In March I start a job as a full-time nanny for a most incredible family in the northwest suburbs of Chicago. There truly is no way to capture the immense bittersweetness of this season. But God has made it all so evident that this is what He has next. I am head-over-heels for this sweet boy and his family, and so beyond-words excited for what the next year brings. However the weight of these too-soon looming goodbyes is a constant weight that laces every moment. 

"You are enough for me..." I've whispered it walking through Bugiri hospitals where babies lay starved and toddlers burned. "You are enough for me..." I whispered it when she died, when special needs was overwhelming terrifying, when I was blinded by tears of homesickness. "You are enough for me.." I whispered it when I wanted to escape a small, suffocating island in the Caribbean, when rats ate crackers in my bedroom, when the classroom got crazy and I doubted morning would come. 

Now I need to learn to whisper it in the land where there is enough- where the electric stays on all night and comfort poses threat on my soul. You are enough for me. Always. 

There are ways in which this decision seems absolutely crazy and ways in which it seems absolutely perfect. My steps will tread in peace, because I know this is what He has planned next. And "next" is all I ever need to know. For when have I ever seen anything but good come from His hands? It's not heartbreak free, nor is it comfortable or easy. Most days, I want to run... but in the core of me I know: it is always good. 

And so I will stand in the land of because He says so. And I will choose to believe His goodness will never fail us.

School Days and Continuing On

otherwise entitled: I now want a cat

5 weeks in, 6 to go.  The fact is a little hard to wrap my mind around.  Being out of the States for over a month now, I’ve entirely forgotten what clean feels like, my definition of good night’s sleep is probably incredibly distorted, and real meat leaves my stomach feeling a bit queasy and unsettled. The weeks have their up’s and down’s. The same days that hold the most infinite joy can transform into the most testing and trying of days; such is life here, or anywhere else on this crazy earth. 

We are trying new things in school this week— separating the class into spelling groups, adding in reading comprehension stories, working through math and doing science questions on protein foods and vitamins. I think deep down (way deep down) the kids like it. At least, that’s why I tell myself as they whine and complain throughout the morning. haha. Denial. Works wonders.

I’ve got one little guy in particular I seem to be at a loss with lately. He’s an artist at heart, a dreamer. One of those kind who were born to compose incredible creations and spin masterpieces. I love him dearly. And perhaps that’s why I feel so tattered. We’ve had a rough two weeks— everything from him egging the other kids on to him refusing to participate in class, then having 5 million questions later on. I stayed up late last night, mulling over things and mostly just praying for this little guy. Our day today was great. Not that greatness is defined by whether a day is frustrating or how well kids listen or how much work we get done. But he wasn’t nagging and irritating someone every 5 minutes, and he actually finished all his papers first. And that felt pretty great for the both of us :) 

The artist in me can identify with so many aspects of his mind… when you’re lost in your latest project, you cannot simply pull yourself from the world of creativity at the snap of a finger, nor do you want to. And the homeschooler in me aches for him… so many years I’ve seen the ‘classroom’ tailored for just one, how do you lump all these strengths and weaknesses together? These complex personalities? The likes and dislikes? The dreams and talents? Couple that with limited resources, an inadequate amount of sleep, and ½ a dozen children who want to be involved in anything and everything you’re doing.

So often I feel like I fail them. If I could just fashion the classroom for each one individually, if only there were enough hours to teach them all one-on-one, if only I could access to this book or that website or different technology… but I can’t. And playing the game of “what if” will run you ragged as the circles beneath your eyes grow. There are some nights it’s more haunting than others.

The time feels stretched thin and ever-fleeting. The flip of the calendar, the way my jeans fit a bit looser, the dwindling supply of tea (well, let’s get real, that’s still overloaded) all remind me the days are passing quickly by. Soon November will come. And while there are days that doesn’t seem close enough, tonite I’m feeling a bit nostalgic. Silently panicked, begging for the clock to slow its ticking just a smidge.

But that’s the funny thing about time… the more you grasp for, the faster it evades you.

Nikki and Jason came back to us today. It’s the first time I’ve been here without them around, and it’s been a bit odd to not see their faces walking about the compound. The ladies are quite excited to have them back. Yesterday when I told Prevelia (in my very best Creole which is a far cry from semi-decent) that they were coming, the look on her face was absolutely priceless. Everything feels settled and normal once more. I'm happy, all my people finally in their special places and spots once more.

There are baby kittens down the road I walk past on an almost-daily basis to adventure out to purchase bread, or run to the market, or accompany children to ‘go buy’.  Never have I ever felt the urge so greatly to bring home a little bundle of a fur ball and name it something ridiculous. I almost considered buying a house in Haiti just to have someplace to house the little bundle of cuteness. Maybe next time ;) The kids I was with laughed at me, telling me of this poor creature’s fate. I’ll leave you to figure that one out on your own (spoiler: dinner plates are involved).

All in all, we are continuing on in the days here. I’m watching geckos roam the ceiling, feeling  the mosquitos suck the blood from my ankles, and waiting for the ibuprofen to kick in.  Through broken headphones,  Sara Groves’s “Great Is Thy Faithfulness” plays through one ear, while in the other, the voodoo drums beat in the distance. 

The Sunday routine now consists of me feeding this little cheeky monkey oatmeal. This past week we tried blueberry flaxseed, which didn't go over so well. Maple-cinnamon seems to be the favorite for this picky eater. He's surprisingly clean in this photo, all things considered. Usually a ridiculous amount of oatmeal is spilled all over his clothes as well as mine, and all over his face and plastered to my chest. Every day he makes me laugh.