Becoming a Haitian Begger..

Soo.. I've been wanting to write something about Haiti, and I just could'nt find the words to say anything. At all.

I just kept going over and over my thoughts and memories, and I could'nt find a particilar story I wanted to tell first. Or just at all.

I think part of the reason it is so hard, because Haiti is somewhere where I could see me living for the rest of my life. It's like my paradise. (I know, probably not most peoples idea of paradise)

So tonight I was praying and said," Alright God, I realllyyy want to be able to tell people just something, anything about what I expierenced, and just if it's your will, give me a song, or a quote, or a picture. Anythinnnnng!!"

And the Father is faithful.

I am such a mess.

I am so small.

I am a sinner in the deepest meaning of the word.

I am a begger.

God led me to a quote by D.T. Niles, that says, "Christianity is simply one begger telling another begger where he found bread."

I have used substances, I have abused substances, I have hurt so many people, I have ruined relationships, and probably messed up parts of alot of peoples lives.

But being at Respire Haiti, holdings 35 kindergardeners, and having kids come running to you, to hold your hand, and dance with you, and just to know you, they did'nt see the old me.

they did'nt see me with makeup, or clean clothes.

I was dirty, sweaty, tired, I did'nt speak their language, I did'nt fit in.

I was dropped from my cushy first world life the the third world reality.

( I hate those terms so much.

It's one world, but anyways, that's another blog, another day.(:  )

But anyways, I am a begger. I may be an American, rich, clue-less girl. But I am a begger.

Holding hands that I did'nt know how long they had to walk, or where they lived, or if they were restaveks, or if they were alone, or if they were loved by someone at "home".

I've always held hands, without holding hands. Yeah, I was that girl in prayer time who did'nt hold your hand back.

Haiti, I just remember holding kids hands walking down the mountain and just squeazing their skinny hands.

It's still hard.

I wanted them to feel my love.

I've never wanted someone to know I loved them that much. It physically hurt me.

It's still hard...

I want them to feel my love. I want them to feel the Fathers love soo.. bad..

I want them to wake up next to loving parents.

I want the little boy with all the whip marks acroos his back to know that he is beautiful.

I was Nikson to know that if I could, I would have stayed.

I want the girls in La Coleen to know that they are worth so much more than they settle for.

Ecuador ruined my "American life."

Ecuador made seeing the greed of every one of us in the states sickening.

But Haiti made me move for that.

Haiti made me open my eyes to, well, Haiti.

Haiti made me believe that I can't go back to 'my old life.'

Haiti hurt me more than I could ever say. But Haiti moved me, more than I could ever imagine.

I hope you find your Haiti. I hope you find a place, that just makes you move.

You can't sit back anymore and just watch. Your heart is breaking with every injustice along with the Fathers.

A place that moves the mountains inside of you, and a place that hangs inside of you, reminding you of the real world.

A place that you are a begger.

But be a begger, telling another begger, about where you found bread.


Peace to you tonight, begger,

7.20.13.