I have so much I want to share, but taking care of a succession of about 15 of the kids who live here who've had the chikengunya virus, I've been too wiped out to string any coherent thoughts together.
However, church was an incredibly special experience yesterday, and I want to write about it while it's still fresh on my mind and in my heart.
On the way to the airport last Saturday, Scott asked me what I was looking forward to the most about coming back to Haiti. Even though the list was long, the first thing out of my mouth was, "going to church with Jovenel."
The American staff here attend an amazing ex-pat, English-speaking church called Port-au-Prince Fellowship. Some of the older boys here in the children's home also attend there on a regular basis (the other kids who live at CLS go to a neighborhood Haitian church). Jovenel is starting to earn some of the privileges of being a "big boy" around here (he turned 12 on Friday!), so he is now included among the group that attends PAPF.
Jovenel & me at Epidor on Saturday. David, Katy & I got to take the children's home kids (who were well enough to go) for ice cream as a reward for those who memorized & recited 1 Thessalonians Chapter 1 (yes: the entire chapter!).
The Sunday before Christmas when all five of us were here & got to attend church together was a special time for our family. But on my first Sunday here last week, we didn't have room in the truck for the boys to join us, so I was a little sad to have missed the chance to attend worship with Jovenel. (Although that was also the Sunday we had a flat tire on the way to church, so that may have all worked out for the best, anyway.)
So, it was already a blessing just to be at church with Jovenel on Sunday. But before I tell you the rest of the story, I have to cut and paste here what I wrote on Facebook after we returned from our first family trip in March 2013:
Epiphany Sunday – January 6, 2013 – lived up to its name for me. I was preparing my heart for our upcoming family trip to Christian Light School and Children’s Home (CLS) in Port-au-Prince, Haiti. And I was sitting next to Shanda Foster who had just returned from Haiti where she and her family, along with three other AUMC families, had spent their Christmas at CLS. Up until the moment the service started, Shanda and I were talking about how we as individuals, as families and as a congregation could go beyond periodic mission trips and truly be present in the work that God is doing at and through CLS.
During the sermon, Brother Charles Cummings shared a story that Anthony De Mello tells about a far-off land where a disciple is asked about miracles and replies, "Well, there are miracles and miracles. In your land it is regarded as a miracle if God does someone's will. In our country it is regarded as a miracle if someone does the will of God." Wow.
BC shared this statement in anticipation of how God might be calling each of us in 2013: "There is no situation in life that God’s grace cannot meet you there. Then he went on to ask this question: In 2013, how can you make God’s plain for others? How can you make God’s love visible in a simple, tangible, way?"
Later in the sermon: “Don’t miss out on anything that God is doing. We’re called to find the dark gaps and just let God’s love shine, so that others can see… that others can be guided
… that others can know that they are loved and know that they are somebody – in the eyes of God and in our eyes, as well.”
Not only did I feel like BC’s words were a direct confirmation of every instinct I had about traveling to Haiti, the music that day spoke to me, as well. Tim Chambliss can correct me if I’m wrong, but I remember singing “Forever Reign” (and if we didn’t sing it that Sunday, we sang it soon after, because I remember crying through the chorus):
Oh, I'm running to Your arms
I'm running to Your arms
The riches of Your love
Will always be enough
Nothing compares to Your embrace
Light of the world, forever reign
What I felt as I sang was this: going to Haiti and running to the arms of Jesus were one and the same.
Fast forward to March 23, 2013 – the day we finally arrived in Haiti. God had definitely used Jovenel, the 10 year old boy whom we sponsor at Christian Light, to call me to Haiti. Literally. Scott and Will had both been to CLS before and spent treasured time with Jovenel in person, but on their trip in May 2012, Jovenel declared that he wanted Mark and me to come on the next trip. So, we began making plans to do just that. Through letters exchanged with Jovenel for some time, I felt that I both knew and loved him – and I eagerly anticipated the day when I could wrap by arms around this child who had already claimed my heart. That moment was just as sweet as I had imagined, and I am so grateful that Scott was able to capture the instant when he leapt into my arms. What you don’t see here is that after our initial embrace, he gently tightened the grip of his arms around my neck – simply, wordlessly, holding on to me, as I lost track of time and everything else that was going on around me. An answered prayer for both of us.
Looking at this picture now, all I know is this: running to the arms of Jesus led me straight into the arms of a very special little boy. I don’t know where God might be calling you, but I know from experience that His grace waits for you there, with a richness and a fullness that you and I could scarcely imagine on our own.
And because people can’t resist asking: Jovenel is not available for adoption. He already has a home at Christian Light, and we are privileged to anticipate the time that we will spend with him – along with the other children and teenagers that have become so dear to us – there. Whatever Jovenel’s future may hold, he will always be able to count on our love and support. I’m guessing that my arms will always feel a little empty when I’m not with him, but I also know how full they’ll be the next time I travel to Haiti.
Any guesses as to what song we sang at church yesterday at Port-au-Prince Fellowship? Y'all. Really. What are the odds that this one song that always makes me cry when we sing it at AUMC's Resonate service - because that first photo of Jovenel and me is always what I see in my head as we sing it - would be one of the songs Jovenel & I would sing together, standing side by side during worship?
I stood there, awe-struck, trying to sing - but mostly just crying. [Like: crying so much that my neck was wet with tears. It wasn't cute.]
There's a lot I don't understand about the Holy Spirit, but that was an absolutely anointed moment yesterday - one that began all the way back in January of last year.
Yesterday was also communion Sunday. Pastor John had us come and receive the elements and then take them back to our seats and hold them until we could all partake of them at once. Sitting there with the communion elements in one hand, clasping Jovenel's hand with the other, was such a sweet, holy moment. My heart swells with gratitude, just thinking about it.
God is at work here in Haiti in so many ways. He is also at work in me - in ways that I probably can't begin to understand. But as I sit here under a moonlit sky and think about what that worship service meant to me yesterday, I wonder if I got a glimpse into the meaning of Acts 17:28 - "For in Him we live and move and have our being." My prayer is that I can live and move in Him in a way that allows Him to live and move in me.
Amen.
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