SHARING AND CONNECTING

Sunday night Hilger2Haiti had the privilege of sharing about our trip at Lookout Mountain Presbyterian.  It was also a wonderful opportunity to thank the church body for praying and giving during our trip preparations!  Alex Winston, Hallie Warren, Jonathan Anderson, and Lois Anderson communicated stories and spiritual insights from the trip.  Pastor Novenson, Carlee Hilger, several parents, and members of the congregation gathered and prayed over the team during the service.  One church member called our Haiti trip "a sermon with shoes on." What a blessing to share our journey with the body of Christ!  God is definitely connecting our community to Haiti - so many people want to know more about how to get involved with Maison!  What a privilege it is to watch God work! 

Glimpses

some of my pics:)

New Mercies

Waking up each morning has brought many feelings of confusion , realization, and anticipation.

I continue to be surprised and confused when I wake up in my comfortable bed in my air-conditioned home in America.

I lie there longer than usual, staring at their beautiful faces into those sweet eyes as if maybe it would take me back... Sometimes before I'm completely awake I reach to hold one, to wake up and find they are no longer there. Sometimes I just wish to be sweaty again...

So I am hit with realization. I really am in America and will be for some time.

But with that realization comes another.

He is bigger. He holds my future. Psalm 16:5, "Lord, You are my portion and my cup of blessing. You hold my future." Everything He has for me is good and He has me here for a reason.

With that realization comes an anticipation. Eager expectation of what is to come. "No eye has seen, no ear has heard, and no heart has conceived what God has prepared for those who love Him." 1 Cor 2:9 Joyful, expectant faith in Him and all that He says He will do..

                            Because He is faithful.


"Because of the Lord's faithful love we do not perish, for His mercies never end. They are new every morning; great is Your faithfulness! I say: The Lord is my portion, therefore I will put my hope in Him."
Lamentations 3:22-24

Satisfied by Him,
Sarah Bethany

Possessions and Realizations

        Most of my life I have felt such strong mixed emotions about going into missions, at times I seem to make myself physically sick with my internal battle. I did not realize until quite recently the main issue I had was resting in my love of possessions.

 A cool lamp. All my books. The major overload of memorabilia and pictures that cover my walls ..... And my piano.

      As most of you may know my past week in Haiti was spent with no material possessions of my own other then the clothes on my back, my Bible, a steel drum, and a small bag of banana chips. Despite the little I personally had, I was blessed with friends willing to loan me what I needed, a roof over my head, and a reassurance that I have Christ as my comforter, protector, healer, great reconciler, and provider.

     The majority of people in Haiti, (if you can even quantify them by saying "majority" when practically all Haitians) live life without such things.

    I still have little idea what exactly the Lord wants me to do with these eye opening looks in the proverbial mirror, but I will pray and trust He makes His path clear to me.


                                                                                                    - Allyanna (HallieAnne)

a peek into my head;)

I have been feeling so much since July 6th, when 2 leaders and a bunch of highschoolers including myself left for Haiti. I don't know how to communicate those feelings, so I'm just gonna throw some of my thoughts out there:)

I knew I was going to Haiti right around Christmas break, so I had time to "prepare" for the trip. I knew what weather to expect, I had pictures of each of the kids, I knew a few Creole words, I had heard about the culture, stuff like that. But I wasn't "prepared".

I spent a week loving on kids, only to tear myself away from them. The last full day that we were going to be at the orphanage, Mitchella (my reading buddy) asked me, "You leave for America tomorrow?". I told hear yes, I was leaving, but that I would see her again.

Over a week, I saw the broken spirits of the people in Haiti, destruction from the earthquake, poverty, and through it all I saw Jesus. And I saw Him in the orphans at Maison.

I cried leaving the children in Haiti, but I cried with hope, because I know that my goodbye to them was not the end. I prayed for them with hope, because I know that they are being held in the hands of their Father. And I left them with hope, because I know that Jesus is bigger than everything I saw in Haiti. I believe there's a place where I'll see those kids again, and there will be no more sorrow and no more pain.

-mary zeglen

we're wide awake. we dreamed there was a fountain. our tongues are clamped behind our teeth. and our teeth will not open.

hello, all. 

we're back in the states, and have been for several days now. 

and as others have written here and can attest to by word of mouth and countenance, 

it's hard. 

we don't want to be back in america. 

every once and a while, i will feel the unnerving lack of NOT carrying a child in my arms. 

of NOT hearing the phrase, "bala swing."

it's strange. 

how can you reconcile living in america after encountering haiti, even if we did not encounter it in full? 

what can we do with this? 

we're wide awake, and there's blood on the promenade. 

we're wide awake, and we dreamed there was a fountain. 

we're wide awake, and our eyes are searching. 

we're wide awake, and all that is within our chests wants to pull us back to an island in the carribean. 

right now, i have nothing more to say. 

i'll probably write some more in the next couple days, and i hope that the others do, as well. we all some some incredible things to process, cry over, laugh over, come to terms with, wrestle with, smile at, and stare at alone in a dark room with sweat on our skin. we're more than a little confused. 

and that's a very, very good thing. 

it's just difficult to articulate. bear with us.

thanks for caring. 

-simon

Eternal Hope

Honestly, I've tried, again and again, to write what I'm thinking and feeling.. but each time I just delete it...

So here's what the Lord's given me the last two days to cling to.. I hope it blesses you.

"If you love Me, you will keep My commandments. And I will ask the Father, and He will give you another Counselor to be with you forever. He is the Spirit of truth. The world is unable to receive Him because it doesn't see Him or know Him. But you do know Him, because He remains with you and will be in you. I will not leave you as orphans; I am coming to you."
~John 14:15-18

It's His promise.

He has sent His promised Holy Spirit, and oh He is glorious!
He didn't leave us as orphans and He didn't leave them as orphans. His Spirit is surrounding the them and filling every place. He's been there since the beginning of time and has been singing over our sweet babies before them could breathe. He takes great delight in giving them His goodness. Psalm 23:6

My whole body aches to hold those sweet babies. I want to love them. I want to "adoption" every single one. I want to hear Danika call me "Mama" and never have to wonder if she ever really will have a mama... I still hear them crying at night. When I pray, I reach to hold them just to realize that they are no longer there and I'm in American again...

I'm a foreigner. I am a stranger in a strange land.

However...As much as my heart aches, He is revealing the eternal purpose for our time there.
Though it was so so so short.. eternally, it has no measure. Ever prayer,  every tickle fight, every act of love, every song of worship, every giggle, every promise or prophesy spoken affected eternity.

That has no measure and cannot be contained.

Our God is big. He is so big.

Bigger than my heart, bigger than my mind or my wildest dreams. Bigger than time. Bigger than earthquakes. Bigger than poverty. Bigger than circumstances or miles.

I choose to focus on that.
That's what joy is.
It's not always giggles and smiles. It's acknowledging Him as bigger than the situation regardless of the situation.

He is so big. He hold every single child, nanny, pastor, missionary, and translator.
He holds them.
He is so big.

That enough reason for us to praise Him for all eternity. He is bigger!

I am overwhelmed by His goodness in showing  me part of His heart this last week, and so thankful for giving me a teeny-tiny part in His big beautiful plan.

"Finally, be strengthened by the Lord and by His vast strength."
Ephesians 6:10

Humbled by His Vastness,
Sarah Bethany

Returning to the states brought many mixed feelings.


Feelings of confusion, frustration, loss.


Waking up this morning recovering from a fever I realized how spoiled i am. I'm fully taken care of, enjoying a comfortable bed, plenty of water whenever I need it, american medicine. The people i just left in Haiti are severely lacking medical assistance, clean water, and so many things we take for granted here.


What am I doing here? This place has everything for me and yet nothing for me. I have a burning desire to return and it's overwhelming. But as I lift these things to God, I am reminded of something. In His power and perfect will, He has work for me here, a reason to return, even if for a little while, 'cause i am confident He is calling me back to Haiti. all in His timing.


I also have hope that I am still with them in spirit. on Friday we visited a home specifically reaching out to street boys. Jimmy, who started the home and takes care of the children, was raised on the street. The rough edges of the boys were still visible, but change is evident. They were open and loving, excited to see us. As we spent time with them we got to talk with some of the boys individually. Very few spoke anything but Creole. Susanna introduced me to one dude who spoke spanish and a little broken english. As we did our best to communicate, we found out he knew Jesus and he was excited to know we did too. I don't remember what he said after that but i remember i told him "tu eres me hermano" meaning, 'you are my brother'. It was one of those things i didn't really think about, it just kinda came out. it hit me later that, even though i'm gone, separated physically from him, we are unified in Christ, and I will see him again.. whether in the months to come, or years from now, or in heaven, we have a bond that ties us together as brothers.


So in that, i have hope. and in Christ, I can say (even though i don't like it) i am an american because God wants me to be, and I am here because He is using me for something just as important as He had me in Haiti for. otherwise.. I know I would still be in Haiti right now, He would have hid my passport or made me late for a plane. But since He didn't i can be confident He wants me here for some reason or another.


The trip is over, but our journey isn't done. He has opened our eyes, and I await God's voice to lead me next.


-Jonathan

One Hope

"I therefore, a prisoner for the Lord, urge you to walk in a manner worthy of the calling to which you have been called, with all humility and gentleness, with patience, bearing with one another in love, eager to maintain the unity of the Spirit in the bond of peace. There is one body and one Spirit--just as you were called to the one hope that belongs to your call--one Lord, one faith, one baptism, one God and Father of all, who is over all and through all and in all." ~Ephesians 4:1-6

Crying and singing have something in common. They are both contagious.

I can't speak Creole. Renet, Jenet, and Analia can't speak English. All four of us, however, cry, pray, and sing to our one Lord.

On the 11th, I was sitting in the toddler-4 room with these three precious nannies. I had three children on my lap and four playing with my hair. Several of the children were crying, so I began to sing. As I reached the third verse of Eternal God for the second time, Jenet picked up the tune and hummed along. I sang As the Deer...Light the Fire...on and on in humble worship of our one Jesus. I then began Amazing Grace, at which point Jenet's eyes lit up. She, Renet, and Analia joined me, singing in Creole, hands raised and hearts upturned toward our one God. We sang it over and over, the peace of the worship putting most of the toddlers to sleep. It was absolutely glorious. Then Analia brought me a dogeared, well-loved, falling-apart hymnal in Creole, and they taught me one of their worship songs. I can't express to you how the "Spirit of the bond of peace" filled that room. 

Oh how I miss these sisters of mine. I ache for them.

They are full to the brim with our one God's peace and hope. They don't see their jobs at Maison as drudgery--far from it! They love the children with tender patience. The nannies bathe the children twice a day--they Always smelled better than me. I had the joy of helping bathe the toddlers several times throughout the week. Most of them would just giggle away, playing in the stream of water I poured over them or hitting my knees with their little fingers in that joyful way only children can. Others would cry because of the (relatively) cold water. Even when the children cried they wouldn't fight me, just patiently let me bathe them. I sang to our one Jesus then too, praying that the truth in the songs would pour blessings and hope into their tiny hearts.

When I had to leave Renet, Jenet, and Analia yesterday morning, we blessed each other in the name of our one Jesus through a fountain of tears and kisses. My heart could hardly bear to leave them. My feet took my away from them in spite of my avid desire to stay. Why should I come home? Why should I have to leave my sisters there to care for our babies alone? Because they're not alone. Although it is true that Christ's body of followers is encouraged and helped greatly when we serve, love, cry, sing, and bathe babies together, Christ's Spirit remains within each of us even when we're apart. 

One of the truths that I have clung to this week is this: our one God is bigger, outside of, completely independent from, and in fact, CREATED, space and time. He is able to (and I believe He did and will) multiply the fruit and blessing from the short time we spent at Maison des Enfants de Dieu for His glory. I can't give up hope as a result of feeling helpless because that means my hope is in myself. My goodness, how glad I am that I don't have to serve, love, and encourage out of myself! There would have been no way for me. I would have given up hope long ago. Each time I lost sight of our one God and my field of vision was obscured by myself, I faltered. I am small and weak and selfish. In myself, I have nothing to offer the beautiful, precious people of God at Maison (or anyone for that matter). Only by God's indelible grace can real meaning and blessing be found or given.

I so aspire to be transparent...to have our one Jesus pour Himself through me onto my sisters and brothers. How I praise Him for choosing to use my small, weak, selfish self to somehow bless some of His children for a short while. Ahh, therein lies another fear! That "short while" bit! I need to remember that Jesus Made time and He is going to accomplish His will. Yes He has given me some time to use as I choose. Oh how I pray that I can return to give more, so much more, time to Renet, Jenet, Analia, Pierre, Philder, Angie, Ruth, Roosebeth, Chrismathe, Wilson, Fabienne, Rickza, Vladimir, Francesca, Jimmencia, Wilda, Lovencia, Orlando, Smith, Caesar, Michelle, Danika, Annsara, Samuel, and EACH of the others....I hate being 1500 miles away from them. But our one God is not bound by distance! He knows the cry of our hearts far before we express it to Him. He cares for my sisters and brothers at Maison even though I had to leave them. Jesus is the "Father of all". Jesus has called each of us to follow Him in healing this broken world, one tiny heart at a time. 

I see Him raising up this generation of Haitian children to fall in love with Him...to bless the nations...to show the way to His grace. So I'll continue to cry and sing, praying that our one, precious Lord will take me back to my sisters and brothers soon, to pour me out again. I'll continue to praise Him for His majesty, and goodness...for knowing and feeling each tear, smile, shout of pain and joy, better than His child who bears it.

~Susanna

playdough and stuttering.

why do we sing? 

why is it a natural thing for human beings to burst into melodic voice to express the most fundamental truths of our existence? 

and why does everything else, be it conversation or words spent in articulation, fall short of what you're really feeling needs to be expressed? 

and why should we be moved to the point of water flowing from our eyes and skin when music comes at just the right moment, for just the right reasons, from just the right mechanical instrument or voice, speaking to just the right part of our being or identity or soul or mind or emotional core or spirit or whatever call it?

and why is broken, stuttering language spent in the effort of articulating good things always more satisfying than conventional phrases? 

____ 

why do we stand around awkwardly with strangers, trying to speak of the weather and the price of gas and the funny thing that your friend did the other day which they could never possibly relate to, and then go into a room and sing powerful songs together and not give a thought to how awkward we should be feeling? 

____ 

what does music DO to us? 

____ 

today in port au prince, we visited the church body that our host, angie, regularly attends. 

the music and songs that the folks employed at the service sounded like the '90s. i was immediately taken back to the sounds that came from my parents' old cassette tapes of vineyard music and contemporary church songs that were around in the late '90s and early '00s. 

the music was a was very very very good catalyst for many of us to spend a few hours in adoration of our God. 

____ 

lately i've been frustrated by the psychological division that we make between times spent in musical worship of our God, and times spent eating sandwiches. 

let me explain. 

in our contemporary world, there tends to be an understood distinction between things 'spiritual' and things 'un-spiritual.' 

if an old woman is strongly devoted to and outspoken about her faith or her church body or the need for missions or the ministry of prayer, people say, "oh, she's just very spiritual." 

if there's been a powerful time spent in music and song and dance, be it a concert or a service of adoration and worship or an orchestral performance, it's easy to label such an experience as a 'spiritual moment.' 

you probably don't feel the same about a moment spent eating a sandwich. 

or pumping gas into your car. 

or pouring a bowl of cereal. 

or scolding your son. or little brother. or little sister. 

or arguing with your parents. 

or typing an email. 


or getting dressed. 


or balancing a checkbook. 

or writing this blog. 

these moments don't seem to fit within the understanding of spirituality with which we've been raised, do they? 


___


so when we went into that church building and sang those songs in port au prince today, 


we all felt something. and we'd like to call it 'spiritual.'


but what if we were to refuse such a delineation? 


what if we were to be discontented by such a distinction; this distinction between things "spiritual" and "un-spiritual"? 








changing a baby's diaper is spiritual. 


singing the melody from the song "how he loves" is spiritual. 


holding a child for hours is spiritual. 


swaying to the power of a time of music and dance and tears and laughter is spiritual. 


hitting the "CTRL" key on this laptop keyboard is spiritual. 


hearing a pastor speak over a congregation is spiritual. 


wiping the snot from a little boy's nose is spiritual. 

carrying water for a family living in one of port au prince's numerous "tent cities" is spiritual. 


buying an article of clothing to support an orphanage is spiritual. 


clipping toe nails is spiritual. 


eating a sandwich is spiritual. 


talking with someone in the process of discovering who jesus truly is, is spiritual.  


painting someone's face as a panda bear for a skit in an orphanage in haiti is spiritual. 


standing in a parking lot at 3am, talking with a friend hurting from a tough break-up is spiritual.  


















playdough is spiritual. 

thanks for caring. 
-simon