I found this written in my journal about a year ago, after we had returned to Haiti for the start of the new year:

Bleach water in my hair,

sounds of roosters

hot, sticky.

That feeling of being on the frontier,

but in a cool, ceramic tile oasis

It is morning #1: back in Haiti.

And this, from my journal close to two years ago. Ted had encouraged me to be bold and to try to write down some poetry. I reflected on experiences with a neighborhood boy:

Instead of hope,

money.

Instead of a smile, or kinship

a "solution" offered.

I can't talk; I can't give you more.

Who am I? And what are we?

I guess, we are actually the same.

Tied by a line.

You are my brother; that is all.

We are family.

Kinship, explored.

Expounded.

Brought forth

into it's actual meaning.

So this is who we are, who I am.

Live, therefore.

Offer the smile,

Be brave.

Live in the light - whole,

not afraid.

When I first met Tanis, he asked me for a bike. Then he asked me to buy him a ball, a new phone, pay his school fees. I couldn't meet all of his needs, nor did I feel it was my place to do so. But he came by ever so often - knocked on the gate. And we would chat in the driveway. I know he has it rough. And I often struggled with what to do - what could I offer him? Besides a peanut butter sandwich, and some time? The question didn't always have to be as complicated as I made it to be. I think that simply chatting with him at times was the answer.

So, he came by and we would 'shoot the breeze.' The one neighbor we actually chatted with regularly over our first several months in Haiti.

Vine-Living

The words pour over me like they haven't in a long time. I am the vine, you are the branches... Our oneness with Christ, His desire to Abide with us. We're finicky dance partners, aren't we? I'm always wanting to change the tune we're dancing to, or escape into the corner to hang out by the punch bowl, leaving my partner awkwardly alone.

John 15

The words soak in, barely reaching below the surface, but I am already transfixed, and amazed by His love. Ted read the words out loud, and we prayed to start the work day, the fourth day in a week that has felt particularly scarce. The desert has been moving in around me with me hardly noticing.

For over two weeks I haven't been feeling well. This has meant two visits to two different doctors, each visit requiring online research and asking friends and colleagues for referrals. After each doctor visit, a lab visit - one trip to get the tests done, and then another to pick up the results - often in traffic-choked parts of town. The symptoms have come and gone - I'm actually feeling on the mend now - but the process has been tiring and time-sucking.

''...every branch that does bear fruit he prunes so that it will be even more fruitful." The Lord is our doctor. As Ted and I prayed, the parallels and juxtaposition came clear. I have needed doctors these past two weeks, ones to help sort out the meaning behind my symptoms and prescribe treatment. One doctor was good, another was not-so-good. In the same way that my physical condition has needed a diagnosis, so has my spiritual condition needed one.

I'm reminded of a sermon I heard at our Philadelphia church over a year ago, where the preacher, Barb, talked about how we don't understand our needs; we need a doctor who can discern that for us. She was sure that her eyeglass prescription should be one way, but her eye doctor discovered it needed to be another. The same goes for our hearts and our spirits.

Christ is our tender, caring doctor. I don't need to drive across town to meet with him; write out checks awkwardly in French, navigate testing procedures that aren't what I'm used to. Nor do I need to wonder about His competence or reliability. He is perfect, always there.

My abiding and walking with Christ also isn't a ''doctor visit'' - a one stop appointment to get a prescription and then go on my way. Instead, He's our 24/7 doctor, always there to heal, to care, to ''diagnose.'' He is truly good.

He is the Doctor that I want.

''If a man remains in me and I in Him, he will bear much fruit; apart from me you can do nothing.'' Do we do the work, or do we just get to be a part of His work and enjoy the ride? This is a tricky one that affects my day to day and my posture towards my work and everything. It feels like a subtle difference at times, because He asks us to go out and actively love and bless others, to be salt and light in this crazy world. But Christ starts out this passage, "... my Father is the gardener."

Apart from Him, we can do nothing. Who is the Potter; who is the Shepard, who is our Life Source? It's all Him.

Little birds

Piti piti zwazo fe nich

It is a favorite Haitian proverb of ours, and it means "Little by little, the bird makes its nest." The meaning is pretty clear, and it applies to so many situations. My two friends and fellow graduate students at the time - Sarah and Gina - and I used this phrase a lot when we were here in late 2010. After reaching the point in an introductory conversation where our limited Kreyol ran out, we would smile and recite this phrase. It signified, for us, that our Kreyol was coming along, so to please be patient with us. People loved that we knew this phrase. It was a real crowd-pleaser. 

For us today, it provides a reminder of a broader perspective. That we are like "little birds," just coming along in our understanding of so many things here. But, each step is productive towards some larger goal. Nothing is lost! Even those days when we feel like we don't quite pass muster, we can rest assured that even the bad bits can be used for something greater - redeemed for His higher plan.

Hamlet, today

This may seem like an odd post title, but special circumstances call for out-of-the-ordinary reflections. Two weeks ago, for our anniversary, Ted and I actually saw Hamlet performed in Port-au-Prince by none other than the London Globe. Through the Globe-to-Globe program, actors are traveling to every country in the world over the next two years with their production of Hamlet, and we were lucky enough to attend their thirty-ninth performance.

As we watched the tragedy unfold, I couldn't help resonate with some of the main character’s musings and woes – lines that are so familiar to me now after pouring over them in high school and seeking out various theatrical and film adaptations since. (I think that part of me has come to believe, like my English teacher taught us, that Hamlet is the greatest play ever written.)

This time, the stage and setting were different. The reflections of our epic protagonist, Hamlet, stirred in me new thoughts and parallels to our own context as foreigners newly arrived in Haiti, and generally as Americans in today's world so full of injustices. What are these thoughts and towards what actions might they lead?

Act III. Scene I.

To be, or not to be, that is the Question:

Throughout the play, Hamlet is caught by fear; the fear of action. After receiving his deceased fathers’ call to avenge his unjust death, Hamlet cannot bring himself to execute the action; a cycle of fear and reflection holds him back. In Hamlet’s case, acting would bring unpredictable and perhaps fatal consequences - one cannot murder the king without expecting some reprisals – yet he cannot shake the fear of his own death that would likely follow (and one can hardly blame him.)

Act II. Scene II.

Oh what a Rogue and Peasant slave am I?...What would he do, Had he the Motive and the Cue for passion that I have?

A travelling actor employed by Hamlet evokes strong feeling while recounting a fictitious drama –that of Hecuba and her murdered husband. Hamlet, who has a reality to mourn (the murder of his father) is distraught at his own lack of passion in response to his father’s death. How can someone feel so deeply over a fiction while he still sits, unmoving, on the news of his father’s unjust death? He is shamed, confounded, by his own slowness to act.

Act IV. Scene IV

...to my shame, I see The imminent death of twenty thousand men,
That, for a fantasy and trick of fame, Go to their graves like beds.

The young Fortinbras, a prince of action, pushes into Poland with his army of 20,000 to defend a seemingly small area of land from capture. Hamlet again is aghast. These soldiers fight and die valiantly for a cause so less personal than Hamlet’s own. The only motive these men require is honor.

Act III. Scene I.

…Thus Conscience does make Cowards of us all,
And thus the Native hew of Resolution Is sicklied over, with the pale cast of Thought,

Hamlet knows from the beginning what he must do. Yet as he delays, it seems that his own ambition to address the injustice in front of him is dulled, as well as the clarity required for decisive action. As we all know, the play does not end well.

I wonder if we, too, can get bound by fear in a cycle like that of Hamlet. Getting caught up in thinking about the gravity of injustices in our world, we can grow afraid to act. There are always consequences to action. The consequences of inaction are real as well, but they feel more tangible and pleasing to us at times; the consequences of inaction are the continuance of the status quo. If we sit and muse for too long, our thoughts run the risk of shriveling and not bearing the fruit of action.

Check out the Globe-to-Globe Hamlet
tour website to see their list of stops:

He goes beyond

God is bigger than me, He is bigger than Philly. He is bigger than my life in Philly.

I was reminded of that on my walk home today. It really encouraged me.

Maybe this is one refreshing thing that I love about travel, and study of history. You see and experience a little bit of what God is doing in other people's lives, or how He has already worked in the past.

His faithfulness is a thread that runs through many aspects of life and culture, from times past to present and, therefore we can know, into the future.

He is good. I got tastes of this on my recent trip to California where, over one week, I caught up with many dear friends. I hadn't talked to some of them in years. In these encounters I got to see:

- how God is inspiring one with creativity and hope for her new photography business and His carefully laid plans for her to enter into counseling school, 

- guiding another's heart through a difficult, uncertain and new relationship, 

- holding one in deep emotional turmoil and showing her His faithfulness through friends,

- blessing another with work, laughter, fun experiences, and joy

- motivating another through her enduring, passionate pursuit of her PA degree so that she can serve many in need overseas,

- and blessing a young, growing family as they continue to stake claim on God's promises and passionately pursue His will for their lives

Each day I got to say, Whoa, God. He is being glorified in each of my friend's lives. He is bigger, He goes beyond. It also reminds me that He is the main player in all our stories.