for drizzle.

(yes, i did make a poor reference to snoop dogg. get over it.)

since i've finally 'fessed up to myself over my newfound homebodyism, i had such a magnificent morning. i would equate it to one of those rainy early-spring days spent in your favorite jeans and scarf and boots, sipping a latte and people watching at starbucks. that is, if i actually drank coffee or went to starbucks and knew what that was like. but i'm going to assume it holds a similar feeling.

i awoke to yet another overcast sky-- i could get used to this rainy season. the heavens released a slow drizzle that made a comforting pitter-pat on our tin roofs and didn't cause one of those flash floods or muddy messes that the heavy rains bring. it was even light enough to walk through and not dread, rather feel refreshed as the miniscule drops lightly kissed your face. i was able to sleep in until 8, which was rather nice, and i love how i have come to considered 8 am sleeping in. i guess i've become a real grown up here.

i went down to the school and began blogging and working on uploading photos from the last month and a half. it seriously was just a lovely time.

after cooking myself a delightful lunch of garlic roasted potato wedges, i grabbed a coke, chatted joyfully with my roommates, and have now curled up on the couch with my Bible, a new book, and jake ousley singing me home on itunes. life is good.

i've realized the pointlessness to this blog. in that case, consider it over.

closet introvert

i would normally consider myself an extrovert. ask any of the people i've met over my first few months here in haiti, and they'll tell you about my long nights, never quick to retire to bed out of fear of missing out on something. but this past week, myself would beg to differ ... i mean, i that was okay for me to argue with me.

yesterday, we took a staff beach trip to Mulin, a much smaller and more private resort than the internationally-acclaimed club indigo. leaving the base around 12:45, we made the thirty-minute trip south in our a/c bus (a nice refuge from the heat). even in the bus i felt just a need to be alone, and took to listening to jon mclaughlin on my ipod for the duration. it wasn't a bad need to be alone, it was a content time spent by myself.

i set up my lawn chair beneath the overcast, and quite-chilly-for-haiti, sky. beyond the crashing waves, beyond the roped swimming area, was the island-- la gonave. and further still, yet astonishingly visible, the southern arm of haiti was a faint silhouette in the distance. i spent a majority of my time finishing bergdorf blondes on audio-book (i.e. the book i started on tape in january. re: my first blog, not haiti). for as depressing as it began, it actually wound up being a delightful story; one of those you-know-you-are-nothing-like-the-characters-but-you-secretly-envy-their-crazy-high-maintenance-park-ave.-princess-lifestyle types. in a slightly more moral and less needy way.

i dozed off for a good portion of the book and had to rewind through it, but it didn't matter. i had all the time in the world and nothing to do with it. its nice, but often unfamiliar to feel that way. i watched as the waves rushed up the shoreline, losing momentum, but reaching to see just how far it could get before being drawn back to ocean, overcome by another way hoping to outrun its predecessor, too.

after lounging contently for 4 hours (which i would typically be stir crazy after so long!), i decided to walk around and take some photos of the beauty that is the haitian coastline. i sat on the jetty and watched the waves wash over the rocks at the point, crashing and splashing and then falling carelessly back to the sea.

i kept my silence all afternoon, the way a nun in a convent would. it was more of a cognizant choice; a way of life, rather than an expectation. i guess it could be comparable to people watching at the airport. there are tons of people around, none of which you talk to, but you could always. (airport convo's tend to be the best anyway!) {tangent: i love sitting in airports, alone, reflecting. i think it is often the most thought-provoking reflection time for me.} i began to realize how my personality pendulum was in full swing to introvert, in the most content way. i can't stress how much joy i have even found in acceptance of this week, in true bi-polar fashion, i actually enjoy silence. odd, i know. especially for one as wordy as i "tend" to be.

sitting there on the jetty, i pondered life's great metaphors. the waters were roped off to protect beach-go'ers from the currents and jagged coral shore. but how would you ever see the coral if you never ventured past the ropes? the white rocks beneath my feet were of all different sizes, each smoothed by the tousle of the sea. i wondered, were they all the same size once? but the weathering of the sea overtime had made some small. these small ones hurt the most as i walked across the jetty. the larger ones, still sea-smoothed, too, offered more support and less poking on the feet. i want to be a big stone, i thought. one that people can stand on for support; one that people can walk across without feeling like broken glass. but does that come from less time out in the sea? where is the sea, anyway? do my metaphors even make sense?

i made my way back to shore just in time for dinner. i didn't talk much at dinner, but not because i didn't want to. i was so very content sitting there, taking in the conversation and details of the moment. i slipped away a few times to photograph the magnificent sunset and the shoreline silhouettes left behind in its path.

i am constantly awestruck by the details God paints into the sky-- stars, the moon, rainbows, and especially sunset. its like a pack of mnm's have been left in the heat for too long, and all the colors melt together in this magnificent display of unintentional, yet intentioned beauty. with each setting sun, i can not fathom one more beautiful, one more delicately cast on the horizon by God, than the one i am witnessing in that moment. but each time, the Lord continues to show off, and captivates me into oblivion with His creative hand.

i sat at the table and watched as the sea, island, and sky became indistinguishable as they melded together into a beautiful, black abyss. i've never been struck by such beauty in darkness. i watched the families, the laughter, the genuine joy take place around me. and i sat there, satisfied. not with dinner (especially after the fiasco that was my "club sandwich"). not with company, even though they were magnificent too. not even with myself. i sat, just satisfied in the beauty of life that surrounds me, that is within me.

***

circles

"what would i do if you never came here?"

but i was always coming here. i thought about one of my favorite Sufi poems, which says that God long ago drew a circle in the and exactly around the spot where you are standing right now. i was never not coming here. this was never not going to happen.

--eat pray love, elizabeth gilbert

as i read this from the shores of the beach below the fort, i felt as if one of the crashing waves consumed me; both violent and refreshing as it overcame me and i swallowed the salt of those words.

God knew i would be right there, in that moment, under that sun. he numbered the grains of sand beneath my pink sarong, and drew a circle around me, as i basked in that very spot. i was never not coming here. all of this was never not going to happen.

as i half-absorbed, half-relished in that thought, i was reminded of how enormous God is. yet, in the same ambivalent breath, how attuned to the minute details that compose our lives. for whatever reason, whatever purpose, God brought me to Haiti, to live for four months, in a community of His followers. as people are fully involved in earthquake relief, prison and brothel ministry (10 of the prostitutes left the brothel today to return home! PRAISE GOD!), or in discipling the many tent communities in the area, i often feel as if what i am doing is not having such a significant impact on the community, both presently or eternally.

but the Lord of lords, our living God, disagrees. i came, as an act of obedience. i came to sacrifice, to serve, to glorify Him. and out of His strength and joy, i am fulfilling His call on my life. and even if another soul is not touched by my work, He has greatly stirred mine. and that my friends, is far beyond significant. that is magnificent.

look at the ground around you. find your circle. God knew it, he drew it.

the swing

the magnificent sky beneath which i swing

***

to and fro;

push,

pull.

point.

flex.

extend;

pull in.

my legs reach higher, higher still

pointing towards the heavens.

with each heave-- ho

i work and work and work to no avail.

my legs ache--

if i could only work a little bit harder

i'd get there. i'd get there alright.

but i don't. i've forgotten how to swing.

suddenly, care(ful)less(ly)

i lean back

my torso like an eagle

diving to the ground,

swooping in to pick its prey

and airborne again, in an instant.

i soar with ease--

once i stop

work, work, working.

i grip tightly as i fly forward.

my pointed pieds lead,

heaven-bound.

living fruitfully, fretlessly

the air today has been noticeably cooler than day past; meaning the high only reached a tender 95 instead of a smoldering 99+. this break in heat also so graciously allowed my temperature-sensitive body to sleep in past 6 a.m., opting for an almost-nine wake up call.

after peeling the sweat-soaked sheets, quite literally, from my backside, i decided out of boredom to make breakfast: two slices of whole-wheat french toast, with a coconut-annais syrup (props to the roommate for that sugary-sweet concoction!).

realizing there was nothing scheduled for the day (which didn't take much thinking to arrive at that avenue), i decided to lay out on the couch and continue reading the memoir i started yesterday, eat pray love by elizabeth gilbert. i managed to read a good portion yesterday afternoon between lunch/nap/dinner; and prior to going to bed. reading has been a nice escape to solitary confinement, which is exceptionally nice in a place where privacy is almost forbade.

i read through most of the morning, stopping only to give alain or patrick cold water as they worked (yet again) on the broken water pump in between the apartments and to cook myself a late lunch of macaroni noodles with fresh garlic, red pepper flakes, and butter, washing it down with my last mountain dew over ice, both prized commodities here in St. Marc. i was also gifted with a resee's peanut butter cup, another prize here, and found out

that deli mart has a whole box for sale (note to self: go to deli mart tomorrow. bring cash. lots of it.)

i read my way into the late afternoon, too. okay, i partially lied. i dosed off a little bit on the couch as the doors allowed a (dare i say) cooler breeze drifted between our perma-opened doors. my arms and legs are still doing this crazy, restless thing where they either tingle, ache, flinch, twitch, or just generally feel like someone cranked the voltage and is sending electric shocks throughout my nervous system. its a dull, annoying pain, and generally only frustrating when my mind is the cranky old man upstairs, ready for bed, and my limbs are like the college frat boys the moved in to the central apartment keeping everyone up at all hours of the night with their united chanting and drone of bad karaoke to 80s songs that were written long before they were born.

well after i awoke with one leg hanging off the couch, foot on the ground, and the other sprawled across the arm of the couch, i stood up to go use the restroom before getting ready for the market. or, i told myself rather that i was going to stand up. but without hesitation, my body rejected the idea and i collapsed, barely grabbing the chair before i would've hit the ground. that's odd, i thought, and tried again. nope. my right leg put me to my knees faster than the fear of the Lord. the odd thing was, my leg didn’t feel asleep. i could wiggle my toes without pain. i shook my leg out for a bit, and i was able to walk like normal, but it was still bizarre enough to make note of.

***

for lunch, i wanted nothing more than home-fried potatoes with onions. but thats the thing with cravings here: you have them, and it takes days, even WEEKS, to get the ingredients, track down the OJ (still waiting on that one), and fire up the propane (assuming you have it) before you can placate your pallet. it at least put enough of a drive in me to recruit anne, jenna and sarah to head to the market mid-afternoon, following the heat of the day.

the overcast skies gave way to a beautiful land-breeze, complimented by the additional wind on my face from the moto drive. i find myself squinting even sans soleil and realize i've left my sunglasses at home. so, i close my eyes; this time not out of fear, but solely from the dust. in fact, i find my body limber and relaxed as its pressed between the driver and anne on the back. its an odd sensation of relaxation that is only typical of two things: courage of the liquid kind, that allows for a sense of looseness in the inebriated; or a natural comfort that usually comes from birth, or a desensitization of the fear from frequent participation in it. clearly, the latter.

we arrive at SD, where my only purchases are two more cans of precious mountain dew, and a container of salt. the four of us almost in complete silence as unknowingly fall into a single-file line as we walk the busy street toward the market. as we pass natives eager to use whatever english they may know, i catch a few "i love you, honey"'s and blown kisses. i'm wondering if my stoic face shows that i don't understand there cat-calls, or that i simply don't care. i keep walking. and i wonder, does the look on my face show the comfort i also felt on the moto? or does it show that i am merely a foreigner in this place, a blanc, still uncertain about each step and easily taken advantage of at the market?

either way, because i'm white, i am taken advantage of at the market, but i figured 50 gourdes for 10 decent-sized, freshly dug up potatoes was fair-- even though the merchants were all-too-eager to make the transaction, meaning i could have gotten them for less. c'est la vie.

we crossed national 1 (the busy highway that i would rather not walk on, ever), and i greet the vender lady on the corner, as i do every week, hoping that she will remember me and i can establish a good merchant relationship with her for the duration of my time. in search of bananas, we press in deeper in the market than we

usually do, and eventually give way to asking a vender where we could find them. with the exchange of a few words in creole, another woman and a small boy, around 7 or 8, are leading us through the tight, busy market paths. i've heard that densely-populated india has some of the most congested marketplaces in the world; at this rate, i'm okay not seeing for myself. dead-ending like a maze, we play this game of cat and mouse as anne disappears before me, and the little boy lingers behind to make sure i've caught up. having to turn sideways at parts just to pass men with wheelbarrows and women toting their goods atop their heads, as usual. another dead-end, and we turn around, opting this time to go left instead of right ... right into a tight-squeeze of a meat market, where all the insides of a cow, or a pig-- i couldn't really tell at this point-- were strung about in a large metal bowl, random organs and intestines overflowing the sides. holding my breath through much of the market, i really couldn't even tell you if and when i was going to vom, nor could i tell you where this dear woman was leading us! we continued to follow and suddenly the congested market gave way to a slightly less-busy street, still void of bananas. our search had lead us far from any familiar territory, so we stuck with it, and alas-- bananas! in a country with so many dang banana trees, you don't think you'd have to trek so far to find them!

with the help of the determined woman, we managed to get a gourdes deal (i crack myself up with that one every time!) and pay just 75 gourdes for her last two, plump, ripe bunches of bananas (about $2USD). and as a bonus: 3 avocados for 25 gourdes. i'll take it. but now, where were we? we tried to go down a nicely paved street, but it was a dead-end. noticing a bunch of of taxis gathered at a cross street by what appeared to be a primary school and a kindergarten, we decided that might be the best route to get home. before we knew it, we got our bearings back as we once again crossed national 1 and headed back for the mission.

***

the evening was spent reading, blogging, and chatting with some of our neighbors (stacia, keturah) as they dropped by. later on, we made our maiden voyage to deli with anne-ruth, the mission's newest driver! cheering her on as if she had finally procured her driver's permit for the first time (although she's had it for 17 years now), i felt like i was back in high school, eager to drive with my friends as their parents handed over the keys to their mini-vans and we were finally free to do what we want, on our own. just the girls!

***

in the book i've been reading, the author writes a chapter about being in Italy, talking to a hardworking man about vacations. the difference in America is that we work hard, take vacation, and don't know how to turn off our productivity and just be. the Italians can work hard, take a mid-day siesta without problem, and take holiday without a second thought on what is going on back at their place of employment.

yesterday, i began to understand how to just be. to not be concerned with productivity, but to sit and read and just float through the day in relaxation. this is definitely a must-do; even in ecclesiastes (which i've deemed the depression ward of the bible!), solomon warns that there is no pleasure in this world; prompting many times to just "eat, drink, be merry and enjoy your work under the sun." sounds like a plan.

thoughts on faith

"there's a reason we refer to "leaps of faith" -- because the decision to consent to any notion of divinity is a mighty jump from the rational over to the unknowable, and I don't care how diligently scholars of every religion will try to sit you down with their stacks of books and prove to you through scripture that their faith is indeed rational; it isn't. If faith were rational, it wouldn't be-- by definition-- faith. Faith is belief in what you cannot see or prove or touch. Faith is walking face-first and full-speed into the dark. If we truly knew all the answers in advance as to the meaning of life and the nature of God and the destiny of our souls, our belief would not be a leap of faith and it would not be a courageous act of humanity; it would just be . . . a prudent insurance policy.

"i'm not interested in the insurance industry. i'm tired of being a skeptic, i'm irritated by spiritual prudence and i feel bored and parched by empirical debate. i don't want to hear it anymore. i couldn't care less about evidence and proof and assurances. i just want God. i want God inside me. I want God to play in my bloodstream the way sunlight amuses itself on water." --elizabeth gilbert, eat pray love

i agree, and couldn't have said it better myself. what do you think? she does not ascribe to the christian faith, but i believe that there is wisdom to be found in all things, and that in God's pursuit of captivating our hearts, he can speak to those that aren't by definition, Christian. so then, is it wrong for me to agree because she is not a christian?

when it boils down to it, in our seeking after the Lord, we long for an intimate experience of Him to radiate from within our souls and throughout our living being. that is why we soak in the presence of the Holy Spirit, to be radically changed, renewed, revived by His presence. scholars, theologians, and historians aside; i believe in the Bible through faith. my proof may or may not be manifested by historical evidence. my proof is in the way that God has had His hand on my life since a young age; in the way i've grown up even without guidance in faith, but having it realized in my life by His divine intervention. my proof is in that majestic moment where a life goes from fetus to infant with that first gasp of air. my proof is in answered prayer, and healing, and transformation, and breakthrough; right before my very eyes.

but this must be coupled with the truth found in His word. what we have to learn from Christ's living example, not just our own experience of "who" God is. the two must sing harmoniously, echoing each other in perfect key. they must dance in unison, neither one taking the sole lead; rather their steps planned and executed in perfect timing. i learned a phrase coined by a progressive mennonite man last week:

if you live only by the word, you'll dry up.

if you live only by the spirit, you'll blow up.

if you live by both, you'll grow up.

***

"the search for God is a reversal of the normal, mundane worldly order. in the search for God, you revert from what attracts you and swim toward that which is difficult. you abandon your comforting and familiar habits with the hope (the mere hope!) that something greater will be offered you in return from what you've given up. "

i can totally relate. but it's not just a hope, its an assurance we have through faith. amen.

cedez le passage

in france, there is a wonderful, familiar traffic sign that reads, "cedez le passage," meaning give way, or yield passage. this morning at prayer, i was reminded of this quaint phrase; one that i find nearly etched into memory as London's Mind the Gap. for some reason, this stuck out to me as a cry to the Lord; utilizing une autre langue to speak more clearly to the Lord than i can in my native tongue.

everyday, we must make a conscious effort to cedez le passage to God. i find it more than just yielding, merely just putting our own thoughts or plans on hold. but truly giving way to the Lord, allowing Him to do His works. even if it is a moment-by-moment, daily cry to the Lord, it is imperative to lay down our flesh and say "God have Your way." with time, it may become easier as good habits form and the enemies attacks are broken off; or it may become more difficult as the enemy wears and tears us down, tricking us into giving way to our flesh and our desires. either way, we need to be cognizant of the living God we serve, and how He so deeply desires to take care of us and our needs.

"For I know the plans I have for you," declares the Lord, "plans to prosper you and not to harm you, plans to give you hope and a future." (Jeremiah 29:11, NIV)

through both the word and my own experience, i've come to realize that God knows much better than I. as our maker, he is the one that programmed us, knows our faults, knows our kinks, and knows what is ultimately best for us. who are we to question his plans, or even suggest that He should yield to ours?

"What sorrow awaits those who argue with their creator. Does a clay pot argue with its maker? Does the clay dispute with the one who shapes it, saying, 'Stop, you're doing it wrong!' Does the pot exclaim, 'How clumsy can you be?' How terrible it would be if a newborn baby said to its father, 'Why was I born?' or if it said to its mother, 'Why did you make me this way?' This is what the Lord says-- the Holy One of Israel and your Creator: 'Do you question what I do for my children? Do you give me orders about the work of my hands? I am the one who made the earth and created people to live on it. With my hands I stretched out the heavens. All the stars are at my command. I will raise up Cyrus to fulfill my righteous purpose, and I will guide his actions." (Isaiah 45:9-13, NLT).

i encourage you: cedez le passage, au'jourd hui.