A little bit of whimsy

There once was a princess who lived in a tower. She lived in that fairytale construction of protection and safety, where little girls go when they are afraid. She had lived there so long that she didn’t even know why she had gone there in the first place. The tower was large, it was grey and it had a large and prickly hedge surrounding it.

For a while she enjoyed the life she had there. People came to her and she could talk to them. Sometimes she gave them very good advice. She could watch the stars rotate around the universe at night. She could think about the deep questions of life. The trees that grew close to her tower were magnificent and she recognized the beauty that surrounded her. But, there was something missing. There was a missing piece, a part of herself that she didn’t understand, and she became aware that there was a life outside of the tower.

So, she sat and she thought. She exercised her arms and legs to that they would be strong. She tried to make a plan, but eventually she gave up. The only way to know what was beyond the tower was to leave. One day, on a day that seemed like any other, she got out of bed and walked to the window, climbed over the edge and began to lower herself down, down, down. At the bottom, she fought through the prickly hedge until finally she was free. She was scratched, bruised and confused but she was free. Slowly, she walked towards the forest…

What happened to the princess when she entered the forest? I do not really know.

I know that she had people with her. Good people, people who would fight for her. Because, in the forest there were lots of battles, there were a lot of ugly things. Many beasts, dragons and witches came after her and tried to cut her soul. Sometimes she bled. Many times she cried. But, she found a pair of arms that would hold her. She found a prince who told her she was lovely, and he was glad that she had left the tower. Together she, her prince and her friends made their way through the forest. They were going towards something, a vague hope, an idea that life was made to be better, and along the way they invited other people to join them. This belief in life was like golden water. When they spoke about it, it made them stronger. They had many stories that I cannot write here. And in the end, it was enough. At the end of her life it was enough that she had lived life to the fullest.

Days of Crazy

Some of these days are full of such dramatic mood swings that I am sure I must be crazy. Isn’t that what we are studying in classes such as Mental Health? Isn’t that what we are exposed to in the hospital day after day? There is so much craziness in this world. We all have dysfunction in our soul. We all are struggling through this life, searching for something meaningful to fill our hands and hearts with.

Somedays all I have to hold onto is my breath.
Sometimes I find that the human need is overwhelming and that there is nothing that I can really do to change that.
So, I go to the place of my deepest questions, my darkest fears, and my dearest Hope.
And, yes, that means that I am going to talk about God again.

Yesterday, I left the mental hospital with a huge burden on me. I don’t want to be an angry person, like some of the nurses we are working with. I want to have compassion that leaks out of me to each person I talk with. A compassion that is real and lasting. I know that there is only one place to get compassion like that. Sometimes, I get angry with God for making me go through all of this. I get tired of going out and helping people, of bearing burdens, of being emotionally invested. But, still He continues to call me into that. I spent the first part of yesterday night arguing with Him about the pain that I am experiencing. I told Him I was too tired to go anywhere, to do anything more. But, I still felt like he wanted me to go out, meet up with some friends, and spend some more time caring for people.

A few things need to be said at this point;
After a 8 hours in the mental hospital, where I have been trying to connect with severely depressed people, those who are suicidal, drug/alcohol addicts, and my own emotions, the LAST thing I want to do is go out and see MORE people.
I want space. I want TV. I want food. I want tea, a journal, a book, a long walk, or a good conversation with a friend.

I argued with God for a solid hour.

I told Him that I was too tired and emotional, that I would probably just cry all night, and that He needed to pick someone else to do this for Him. I cried, I pleaded, and even while I was driving I kept telling Him things like, “You had better have a really good reason for why I am doing this.”

When I finally stopped to listen, I felt Him say, “If you let go of your anger, I will give you my heart for these people.” That stunned me into painful silence. I realized that I have to let go of that anger that I carry against God. I have to trust Him that He knows what He is doing with me.

To make a long story short, last night after a day of talking with people who were depressed, addicted, and screwed up, I spent the evening talking with even more people who were depressed, addicted and screwed up. Except that last night, I was telling them that they are worth more than the life they are living, and I was sharing with them the lasting Hope that I have found in Jesus. Ironic, isn’t it?

Brightly Colored Confetti pieces in the Wind

Do you ever feel like you are feeling too much? Like who you are is in transition? Right now I am a messy mess of everything. It's like God has take all of me, ripped everything into little pieces and tossed them into the wind. None of it will make sense until it lands.

I have been in and out of the hospital all week. The pain and fear of other people is starting to pull me into an increased awareness of my own pain and fear. I feel the need for human comfort, for God's comfort, for reassurance, for Hope. How does Hope stand in the face of fear? How does it face life so bravely? A dear friend of mine is in the hospital, ripped from her vibrant life by a devastating illness. Through our tears, over the phone, I pray that she would know that God is with her, that she would know that He cares for her in this moment. I know that I care for her and that I feel pain for what she is going through. How much more then does her creator, compassionate father, and friend feel for her! He is the one who has carried her all this way, and He will carry her now. When we leave her, He is there. He has loved her and known her first.

For the last two days I have been carrying my unanswered questions to the trail by my house. I roll up my scrubs, take off my shoes, and walk and talk with God. I question, cry, sit in silence, and try to hear the still small voice of Him who made me. If God is who He says He is, then He constantly wants to talk with us! He can speak to us in every situation. So, I bring Him my best and my worst.
Yesterday evening I had this conversation with Him. "When will you heal us God? How much of us will you heal." Immediately I felt Him respond, "As much as you will let me heal." I do not pretend to understand what that means. All I know is that God's promises will be done.

I was thinking about Haiti last night and remembered the following description of what was like to be with those babies, with those people;
"Entering the Sisters of Charity orphanage is like staring into the face of hopelessness. You walk in, and in every crib there is one (or two) babies. Many of them cannot gather enough energy to move or to respond to your voice. You can see them, but their souls have withdrawn deep into their bodies. Many of them have not been held, they have lost the will to live. You have to hold them, speak Hope and Life into them. I was holding a little malnourished baby named Sergo. It took all day of singing over him, feeding him, and praying over him for him to actually respond to me. When I put him down, at the end of that first day, he reached his hand up to my face. Somehow I feel hopeful, even here where life has lost its meaning for so many. In my relationship with God I have a Hope, a future and a destiny that is waiting for me."
How strange that I had to go to a place of such severe hopelessness to know that my Hope is unshaken.

This is my confetti. These are my ups and downs. Where will this wind blow me? What will this look like when it lands? I do not know.

But...

I do have Hope. Nothing can separate me from the one who knows my name, from the one who is here with my now in this place of fear, stress, and sadness. I'm gonna go sit with Him now.

"Crianças Belezas” (Beautiful Children)

There is a story behind these words.

It all began with the days in the park that we spent covered in face paint and sweat. The days that we played soccer in the dirt and climbed trees like monkeys. The days we spent with some of the most beautiful children in the world. Or maybe it was the nights that we prayed with them and held them when they cried. The times when we realized how deep the pain went. How deep was their need for God! How desperate were we to see their lives change! And then came the most painful part.
The goodbyes.
Letting go.
Leaving, with tears on their faces and ours.

These words mean all these things, yes. But, they also mean so much more. You see there was one day when I came before the Lord and tried to claim these kids for my own. I sat there, with my Bible and journal open and said to Him, “God, you had better do what you have promised!!! You had better go there and be with those kids, because I was there and I know what they need.” Then, I paused and prepared myself to write something suitably moving for the occasion.

A few milliseconds later, I felt a flame sweep my body from top to bottom. I had a sudden urge to throw myself on the ground and hide my face. The loudest whisper I have ever heard forcefully reverberated through my mind and heart, “DID YOU REALLY THINK YOU COULD HAVE DONE ALL OF THAT IF I HAD NOT DONE IT FIRST?” Belatedly, I realized that my protestations to God were in vain. Yes, He would do what He promised. He had been there since the beginning. He knew their needs closer and more dearly than I ever would. He was there in the darkest hours of their night, not me. He was trying, day after day, to break through and tell them how much He loved them. He didn’t need to have me there to do those things, but He had allowed me for one brief moment to love and be loved by them. Humbled, I felt tears fill my eyes. This Love that I carried, it was not about me.

Our service, our compassion, whatever we bring to this world, it’s not about us. The moment we make it about what a splendid person we are, we lose it, and good luck trying to get that back.

In the words of a very wise man; "As long as the help we offer to others is motivated primarily by the changes we may accomplish, our service cannot last long. When results do not appear, when success is absent, when we are no longer liked or praised for what we do, we lose the strength and motivation to continue. We see nothing but sad, poor, sick, and miserable people who, even after our many attempts to offer help remain sad, poor, sick and miserable, then the only reasonably response is to move away in order to prevent ourselves from becoming cynical or depressed. Radical servanthood challenges us, while attempting persistently to overcome poverty, hunger, illness, and any other form of human misery, to reveal the gentle presence of the Compassionate God in the midst of our broken world."

-Henry Nouwen, Compassion (emphasis added)

I never want to forget that sometimes God calls us to let go and trust that He holds and cares for people better than we ever could. These beautiful children are not mine, although I feel sometimes that they are brothers and sisters to my heart. They are His. I am His. We are His. Let us rest here together in His compassion.

Fractured Mirrors

I look in a mirror that is cracked and flawed. Is this what I see; a child of God? We gaze into broken glass, looking for our identities. How tragic that we cannot see the beauty there! All of our striving to be lovable is in vain. All of our beauty regimes will fade. Can we believe that we are beautiful already?

“You are so beautiful, my love! So beautiful!”
“Every part of you is beautiful, my love. There is no flaw in you.”

When we hear those words there is no answering lift of the heart. We turn our faces away disbelieving. Again and again we return to our fractured mirrors to gaze upon our flaws. Preocupied with ourselves we do not see the one standing behind us. There he is, my lover, my friend. His words, they haunt me. If only I believed them, then I would know true security.

“Therefore, I will allure her into the wilderness.”
“His love is better than life…”
“God is in the midst of her, she will not be moved.”

Throw away the mirrors of self judgement that you have held onto for so long! Cast down your defences. Raise your faces to the worthy one. The one who made you in His image. The one who calls you Beloved and Friend. He desires to draw near to you. Listen for His voice.

Lord, help my unbelief. Restore me to your promise. I listen for your voice.

Mountain Top

The hills are amazing this time of year. I don't think I have ever seen such a beautiful spring. Or maybe I have just never truly appreciated the place where I live. Well, I do now.

I have found a new place. A new place of simply existing with God. When I am upset, when I need comfort, I take refuge in the arms of my father. There is no other place. There is no other security than this.

I am learning that God has always spoken to me strongly through nature. When I was a child, when I was afraid, when I felt that the darkness would overwhelm me, I found peace in the outdoors. At the age of eight, I came up with a plan to run away and live completely off of nature. I would find myself a place in the wildernness and live off of the land. I would live alone, safe from all the untrustworthy people, away from pain, away from fear. The trees and animals would be my friends. I thought I would have everything I needed. This dream of my child's heart keeps coming back to me. I see now that the longing I felt towards nature was a part of God's call on my heart. Even then He was listening to me and answering.

When we are children, God speaks to us in ways that we can understand. He gives us concrete examples of His presence. He uses stories, music, people, and things in the world around us to teach us who He is. As a child, I saw and experianced many things that were frightening, but God was always there, offering me assurance. Now, as I enter this new time of healing the wounds of the past, I am feeling that tug once again upon my heart.

"Come away with me."

"I have loved you with an everlasting Love."

Last week I went on the most beautiful hike of my life. It was a windy day, with high rain clouds and warm sun. As we walked, the sun would come out and warm our faces and arms. Me and my dear friend climbed a secret trail. It felt like we were going into Narnia. We went on a journey of discovery. Our destination was a secret, even from us. We walked through the tall grass, and suddenly came out into the open with views of the endless hills, covered in yellow. Finally, we stopped at the top of the world. I could see all the way to downtown LA, and across the ocean to Catalina. To the left, rain fell on Yorba Linda, to my right the sky was lit with sunshine. The wind thundered in my ears. Swallows danced an intricate ballet over my head. Suddenly, the wind died. Perfect silence. Peace. All the while, my creator King spoke to my heart. He spoke words of assurance, comfort, and healing.

If I ever dissappear, you will find me there on that hilltop, listening to the voice of my creator, knowing and being known. I will soak up the sunlight and rain. I will live without fear again.

Consecrate

Then, Joshua said to the people, “Consecrate yourselves unto the Lord, for tomorrow the Lord will do great works among you.” – Joshua 3:5

Consecrate. Set apart. Wholly devoted to one thing.

How many times do I fill myself with things that will not satisfy, that do not last. I am seeking, searching, aching for something to change me. I have sat in my despair long enough. The beautiful letdown is this; I cannot change myself. Perhaps my brokenness is meant to serve another purpose, it is meant to show me my greater need. The end of me is the beginning of Him. This whole time I have been missing the invitation to something very private and personal with God. Embrace the process. Don’t hold back. Come. Choose me. I almost missed the invitation. Now I hear it, although it was whispered so softly. Now it resonates through my mind and heart.

Come, everyone who is thirsty, come to the waters; And you who have no money come, buy and eat…

Seek the Lord while He may be found…

Then you shall go out with joy and be led forth with peace.

Although I am poor and needy, the Lord thinks upon me. He is calling me gently to come, turn to Him and He will heal the barren places in my soul with His steady rain. For so long I have tried to make things happen based on MY plans and MY timing. His desire instead was to pour living rain down on me. I need to see His face. I need Him to teach me to carry Joy and Peace. I need to see Him in my suffering. I need to know His holiness. I need freedom. I need to dance again. I need to go back to my first Love, the one who knows the meaning of my name, the color of my eyes. Although I have nothing, He offers me everything. He is near to all who call upon Him.

And so I respond;

O God, You are my God; I shall seek your face;
My soul longs for you, my flesh yearns for you, in a dry and weary land where there is no water.
I have seen you in the sanctuary, seen your power and your glory.
Because your love is better than life, my lips will praise you.
So I will bless you as long as I live; I will lift up my hands in your name.
My soul is satisfied with you alone, and my mouth offers praises to you with joyful lips.

Be my everything.

Heal me.

Day one: Lessons in being Helpless

The hospital is a cold and confusing place. This hospital is even more perplexing than any other I have ever been to. The buildings and floors form a maze that conspires against outsiders, visitors and new people. Maybe this is some complex kind of hazing? You can only find your way around if you really belong there. The only place I know how to find is the cafeteria. Typical of me! I have no idea what I am doing here.

I always wanted to be a nurse. However, I never wanted to work in a hospital. How ironic that to be a good nurse you have to spend a chunk of time learning in the hospitals! There is one thing that keeps me focused. Somehow, I am called to be here. This experience is a part of what God is doing in my life. It is a part of the lessons I am learning. It is a stretching of my heart. It is a continuation of everything I saw Him do within me in Haiti. And it is me. This is me. I am one who is called to care for others despite their pain and circumstances.

With all of that said, day one in the hospital is exhausting. Physically exhausting from all the lifting, bed changes, and turning the patients in bed, and emotionally exhausting to see people in such desperation.

One patient has uncontrollable diarrhea, which means that we change her 6 times during my shift. It is difficult to move her, to roll her on her side, clean her up and finally get her settled back in her bed. We are looking at her in her most vulnerable state. She is literally lying there in her own shit, unable to move or help herself. She is the sweetest lady. She rarely complains, even though I know she must be very uncomfortable. She even manages to crack jokes while we are moving her in the bed. Each time after we change her diaper and bedding, we leave her with the same instructions; “See this call button? Next time this happens, give us a call right away and we will come to help you out.”

I wonder if it is possible to know someone truly unless you have actually seen them in such a situation. Can I ever be known unless I show my true vulnerability? Can I ever know someone unless they are willing to show me themselves? We need to care for each other. We need to help each other out of the shit that we are stuck in. When our strength fails, we rely on each other, we rely on God. I may not be physically lying here helpless, but I am spiritually. Spiritually I am in great need. The dry places in my heart are crying out for more. I NEED help.

I guess I had better go push that call button…

Jesus, Rock My World, Rock me

Jesus, how I need you so.
Jesus, they will never know
How you become all that I need.
Jesus, ROCK my world, rock me.

I’m apathetic, worn and used.
My heart is O so tired and bruised.
I really need you, can’t you see.
Jesus, CHANGE my world, change me.

This cry for you is not enough,
You promised you would fill my cup.
Send your Spirit tenderly,
Jesus, FILL my world, fill me.

Smooth my edges,
Guard my heart,
Tell me that we’ll never part.
Know the places in my soul.
Come now, Jesus, make me whole.
I want to BE with you, just be.
So, Jesus…
Rock my world, rock me.

Prayers and Pictures

Since I have been back I have been reading and re-reading a small book of prayers that I got in Haiti. The prayers were written by Haitians who converted to Christianity out of Voodoism. They are simple, and perhaps more profound for their simplicity. I want to learn to pray like that, without wasting words, simply asking, adoring, or praising God. Here are two of my favorites;

Senye,

Tout la vi mwen, mwen te tankou yon raje; men lot jou ou te rache m' e ou te plante nan jaden w' nan.

Mwen vin tounen yon fle.

Mwen jenn e mwen vle grandi e kiltive pou m' sa vin pi bel toujou

Lord,

All my life, I have been just a weed; but the other day you pulled me up and planted me in your garden.

I became a flower.

I am young and I want to grow and be cultivated so I can become more beautiful.

Papa, Yo di mweh se malere. Mesi, papa. Fe mweh pov en espri tou, pou mweh sa erite wayom Bondye a.


Father,

They say I am poor.

Thank you, Father.

May I also be poor in spirit,
that I may inherit the Kingdom of God.

Simple Love

“Call to me and I will answer you and tell you great and unsearchable things you do not know.” – Jeremiah 33:3

Simple Love

I have always been afraid of the cost of loving those who are suffering deeply. This fear came up immediately on this trip. The first day we walked into the orphanage we were immediately presented with the faces and bodies of children who have suffered more than I can ever imagine. We walked from the peaceful gardens in the compound to dim hallways that smelled of urine, body odor, and sickness.

In the orphanage there are five rooms, in which the children are organized according to their age and the severity of their illness. Room one has the sickest babies; room five has the older and healthier kids. The first room I saw was room one. Tears came to my eyes to see these children with sores on their faces, shrunken bodies, crying eyes. That is when the grace of God met me.

I walked over to one of the cribs and looked down at a little girl. She was crying in pain, her body was covered with scabies and large sores. But, when I bent down to say hello to her she smiled at me. That was when I saw it, the person, the little girl. There was a person there, even covered with all that pain. Suddenly air in the room felt lighter, the smell didn’t make me nauseous, and my heart lifted. In the eyes of that AIDS baby I saw the truth. Regardless of our pain and suffering, we retain the ability to feel and respond to love. The challenge of Compassion is to look at the person and not see what is wrong with them, but to see their soul shining back at you. Then, the small acts of service; changing a diaper, spooning gruel into a mouth, washing the wounded, all those acts become acts of a simple and great love. Simple things, done with great love, become extraordinary acts of kindness.

In the words of another visitor to Mother Theresa;
“Accompanying Mother Theresa, as we did, to the Home for the Dying, to the lepers and unwanted children, I found I went through three phases. The first was horror mixed with pity, the second compassion pure and simple, and the third, reaching far beyond compassion something I had never experienced before- an awareness that these dying and derelict men and women, these lepers with stumps instead of hands these unwanted children were not pitiable, repulsive or forlorn, but rather dear and delightful; as it might be, friends of long standing, brothers and sisters.” – Malcolm Muggeridge

May God grant that I am able to see people with new eyes, the eyes of one who looks past what is wrong with them and sees the person, created in the image of God. I want to see a person who is worthy to love and be loved. Jesus, make it so.

Devastated by a Greater Hope

On the third day in Haiti, as I was looking out at the city from the upstairs porch of the guest house, a thought ran through my mind, “I think I know now what the word ‘devastation’ means.”

I have never seen such extreme poverty, children who were so close to death, or anything like the line of people who came to us with swollen and gangrenous limbs. It is not uncommon to look at the faces of the Haitians and see expressions that are bleak or blank. Life expectancy in Haiti is in the late thirties to early forties. Their faces and their bodies age quickly as a result of the malnourishment, and harsh realities of life. The average Haitian earn less than one dollar a day. They do not have the resources to feed their children, or keep them from getting sick.

Working in the orphanage/hospital that is run by the Sisters of Charity (the sisterhood founded by Mother Theresa), we saw firsthand the devastation of the people. Mothers and fathers came to visit their sick babies for a few hours each morning. They held their children with a mixture of joy and sadness. The little bodies were racked with terminal diseases, swollen bellies, sticklike arms and legs, and expressionless faces. When the sisters rang the bell, it was time for the parents to leave. With longing faces, they hugged the child one last time, nodded to the sisters and left. I was reminded me of the story of Solomon’s wisdom, when the true mother was the one who was willing to give her child up rather than see it die. Although their hearts break every time, they are willing to leave their children in a place where they receive the lifesaving care that they need so badly need.

Heartbreaking as it is, I have no desire to dwell upon the devastation. It is impossible to describe, and overwhelming to experience. What we witnessed in Haiti had a life-changing effect not because of the despair it brought us to, but because of the power of Hope. Together our team got to witness little moments of great Joy, triumph over long odds, and peace instead of fear. It was a reminder that our God cares about the physical wrongs and injustices that have beset our world. We, as His people, are commanded to go forth and do the same.

We got to see children go home with their families. One little boy went out wearing a double breasted coat, gold basketball shorts, and bright pink shower shoes; clutching the artwork we had done with him in one hand and his father’s hand in the other. My little friend Sergo went from being listless, non-responsive, and unwilling to eat, to finishing a whole bowl and half of his food and reaching his hand up at the sound of a voice. Sarah D. got to see Little Augustine (four years old), who has been at the orphanage her whole life, walking for the first time. She waddled proudly through the halls and called Sarah’s name. We teased the sisters about their midnight soccer games, when they go out and play together, hike up their habits and shout. There were rich times of laughter along with the tears.

“Therefore, since through God’s mercy we have this ministry, we do not lose heart.”
– 2 Corinthians 4:1

And this became true. Hope was always near to us in God’s presence. I clung to Him. It all comes down to our final Hope. In the words from the Revelation to John the Apostle, “Now the dwelling of God is with men, and he will live with them. They will be his people, and God himself will be with them and will be their God. He will wipe away every tear from their eyes. There will be no more mourning or crying or pain, for the old order of things has passed away…” – Revelation 21:3-4

At first, I thought that I would give in to despair, but then I found that all was not lost. Greater is the Hope that is in us than the devastation in this world.

A Catalytic Lifechange of Epic Proportions

Life. Wow! It is so surprising. I cannot even begin to understand how this works, but here is one great thing that I have discovered… When you completely surrender your life to a cause, to a person, to your God, you are in for an adventure.

A week ago, for the first time my size seven feet landed on the ground in Haiti. Going into this trip, I knew that something big was coming but I was unprepared for just how big that something was going to be. Sometimes, one week carries the significance of a year. Sometimes, the things that God has been speaking to you will suddenly make perfect and sudden sense. In an overwhelming symphony of Love your heart will be overpowered, expanded and left breathless. In chemistry terms, a catalyst causes the reaction to take place at an exponential rate. Take all the progress and growth that you have been experiencing and multiply it by ten, one hundred, or one thousand.

I have no doubt that, in life, everything can change in a few days. The death and resurrection of Christ took place in a few days, and forever changed the course of History as we know it. I think that God operates on a timeline that is not a line, it is a web, a mass of roots tangled together, where one event can feed into various circumstances that branch out, cause growth. So, I am writing in an attempt to understand the things that I have seen, experienced and the things that have changed within me. This is the story of my trip to Haiti. This is the story where God is the hero, the ultimate catalyst, the one who has the plan. I am a grateful participant in His story.

“Be patient towards all that is unsolved in your hearts, and try to love the questions themselves. Like locked rooms and like books that are written in a very foreign tongue… do not now seek the answers which cannot be given you because you would not be able to live them. And the point is, to LIVE EVERYTHING! Live the questions themselves. Perhaps you will then, gradually without knowing it, live along some distant day to the answer.” - Ranier Maria Rilke