Orphaned and Abandoned

Orphaned and Abandoned. Two words you hear a lot here. It started on the plane. The plane. American Airlines taking a plane almost full of white faces and folks wearing t-shirts with screen prints about Haiti’s Earthquake. Almost like a youth group going on spring break. I couldn’t help but think that we would all be taking back much more than we would be giving.

This stories of the children started on the plane. Great older southern gentlemen with a fabulous heart for the hurting. He told me that he had come down three days after the earthquake. He was at the airport and there was a fight that started outside the gate in the street. A few went to see what was happening. There was an eight year old little girl there who was with a woman. One group said this woman was selling this little girl for sex for money. But the woman said these men where trying to steal her daughter. No one knew who to believe, and the woman took the little girl away. Crying.

The man said he didn’t know what to do other than just pray that God would be with the little girl. That His spirit would go with her and keep her safe.

An hour later the girl came back to the airport exit gate. Wailing. Screaming. All she could say was: “She is not my mother.”

He said she was so traumatized that she couldn’t remember her last name. She had been

Orphaned. Abandoned.

----------------------------

Driving back from picking up our final team member from the airport, I saw him again. His smile was captivating. His spirit was warm. His name was Garrison. Amber and I had tried to buy some water earlier that day that caused a yelling match at the store. Beside me the whole time was Garrison. Holding my hand tightly. He was eyeing the pastry in the glass. I was so wanting to buy it for him. Precious he is.

So I saw him and I turned to Dr. Jeudy. What is his story? Who is his mother?

He has none.

What do you mean?

No mother. No father. He is

Orphaned.

He was

Abandoned.

Who cares for him?

We do…….

Lord, Father God. You who are bigger than any pain we can imagine. Lighter than any darkness we can walk into. More powerful than an earthquake. The Father of the Fatherless and the Shepard for the Abandoned. Take these children tonight who have been orphaned because of this tragedy and hold them close. Help them to feel the depths of your love like no one else in the world can tonight. They are your special ones. Hold them tight.

The Four Most Beautiful Letters in the Alphabet

Have I come to Haiti to learn of Love? And how can three days seem like three weeks?

“What is your name?” I asked. "Her name is Lise. She understands English but she cannot speak it." “Lise. How do you spell that?” I asked.

“L - I – S – E: The four most beautiful letters in the alphabet.” He said. Watching them, you see it. Love. Not just any love. It’s different. They have been married for many years. One son. One heart.

You can easily watch him as he is protective of his treasure. You can easily see her taking care of him as her husband. You can easily see them share this love they share. This life they share.

He is a pastor and a surgeon and an over-all amazing man. Wise. Deep Well. She randomly breaks out in song, and her service is never ending. But she is strong and commands respect as she walks into the clinic she manages. His clinic. Their clinic. The people they have ministered to since the earthquake are in the hundreds. In food, clothes, medical care, and prayer. Together. As a team. Serving.

Loving through serving. It has been heavy on my mind lately and right before my eyes. And I think…….hmmm, this might just work. I’m a bit jaded when it comes to relationships. Having loved and lost (as many have), witnessed heartbreak in relationships around me, seen bad marriages often, seen good marriages rarely, frequently playing referee in my office in marriage sessions, when what I really want to do is pull my hair out. It just doesn’t seem that hard. But it is. Or is it? Maybe it’s just about serving. Maybe it’s just about surrender. Surrendering to our will to love the other person as God would if He were here. We are the most unhappy when we are the most selfish. And you can find pride and selfishness at the root of almost all marital unbliss. I believe with all my being that the purpose of marriage is to find someone you can love God with deeply rather than seeking someone to help us feel more love-able.

Yes, I’m seen as strong and bold and independent – the secret is that every woman just wants someone to lean into. Someone to catch her if she falls. To protect her from the evil in the world. Especially the strong and independent ones. They fall a lot, I hear : )

“Loving is not about getting. It is about protecting the one you hold the closest. If I am a good man I will protect my wife and children. I will make sure they feel loved. Above God, that is my greatest responsibility. My wife is a strong and beautiful women. She is not weak. She has the power. The power to make me a strong man or a weak man. And she makes me a strong man”

Wow. Loving by serving. Through serving. Reminds me of a man long ago with a towel and a water basin. Yeah – I think we could learn a lot from that man. And His Father. And the people of Haiti.

Why Don't We Dance Anymore?

I have discovered Needtobreathe. Maybe because I need to. Maybe because their music speaks to my spirit, and I like to dance to them in my mind. On a plane. To Haiti.

Stones Under Rushing Water. That’s the song.

"Why don’t we dance anymore? Why don’t we sing anymore?"

I was in front of over 100 Strong Haitian Souls today. Telling them about this song. How blown away I was when I read about them dancing in the middle of their darkest hour. Singing in the streets surrounded by rubble. Telling them how amazed I was at their strength. Dreaming of how the rest of the world can learn about what Hope really means – from them. From the very ones the rest of the world is trying to save.

“Our streets were turned into churches” Dr. Jeudy said.

This great surgeon, pastor and Haitian theologian told stories of the people coming together as One in the streets the night of the earthquake. 

Singing to a God they still trusted. Crying out to a Creator to put their broken world back together – and their broken streets. Dancing together as a people of pure strength. He told stories of how the people of Haiti had turned to God during deep crisis instead of shaking their fist at Him out of blame.

“This sidewalk was lined with corpses. Women. Men. Children. Lined up for days. One on top of another.”

How do you find wisdom in suffering? Rejoicing in the face of despair? How do you look into the dust of ashes and see a reflection of beauty? I don’t know. But I know that I want to know. I know that I have seen it, and I am in awe. In awe of

 Women dancing in the streets singing “Haiti Is Alive” after 220,000 deaths from the earthquake. Amazed after hearing of orphans marching in white…..singing songs of hope after loosing everything – parents, homes, limbs.

I feel as if God has taken His chisel and carved out a pathway into the deepest places of pain in the world and gently taken my hand to led me into them. Into the hearts of His most broken people. Into the hearts of His most wounded children. And through it, I’ve been taught where true beauty can be found.

Lewis says this: "We think our childish toys bring us all the happiness there is and our nursery is the whole wide world - but something must draw us out of the nursery into the world of others. That something is suffering"

Suffering. Despair. Heartache. It is that very place that I think God lives in the fullest form. Holding us. Loving us. Mending us. It’s in broken desperateness – the place that we think we can’t breath anymore – the place that we feel we can't stand anymore – the very place that we never dreamed we would be and would never wish on our greatest enemy… That Place. That very place is where the heart of God lies. The center of His redemption. The core of His grace. The greatest need for His glory. It is not easy or pretty or pleasant. But it is surely there: 

The Hand Of God.

 

How Shall I Cry?

How Lord do you want to change me?

Who, Father, do you want me to be?

Where, Spirit, do you want me to go?

How shall I cry for your hurting?

What hymn should I sing to your orphaned?

With what language should I speak to the ears of the wounded?

How should I awaken the dead....

That they may live in You

Through you

Because of you

In Complete and Absolute Honor of

You. 

Dancing in Dogwood Blossoms.

I was watching them play today. Watching them race for colored plastic eggs, watching them shake the dogwood blossoms off of the trees and dance in them as they fell to the ground. Watching them. Loving them. Admiring them in all of their Innocence – wishing that innocence would never be further away from them as it is today.

This day. This Day of Newness. Of Freshness. Of Resurrection. Of New Beginnings. I was thinking in worship tonight how this has become, possibly, my favorite holiday. I often say that the Ending must End for the Beginning to Begin. But I find we are often so afraid to allow the Ending of Something - that we can’t find the Beginning of what God has for us. You see, you can’t hold on to both. You have to let go of one to find the other. 

The Passion of the Christ. The Lord’s story of sacrifice on a Hollywood screen. I remember my family going to see it together. I had never seen my dad cry so hard. We all had different reactions to what we saw when Jesus was being scourged. My father wanted to just fight for the Lord. To stand up for Him. My brother said he was almost numb. His heart was so overwhelmed that he didn’t even know what to do with it all. Me? I kept thinking one thing and one thing only. “That should be me. I should be taking that beating. Me. They should be whipping me.”

I was in the middle of one of the darkest times of life and had broken practically every one of the Ten Commandments – the Big Ones. At that time, having just gone through a shameful divorce and ending a painful marriage – I was broken in about as many pieces as I could be. Depression gave way to anxiety depending on the hour. Not living sounded much more enticing than I would like to admit. And I remember this day. This One day. Lying on my sister’s bed, I remember having to choose. I remember talking to myself and telling myself that I had to make a choice – I was either going to live or I was going to die. I was either going to see myself through the eyes of man, or through the eyes of my Lord. I was either going to give up or fight. I chose to fight. But I had to re-choose to fight to live many times over since that day. Over and over. I had to choose to change. To change how I was looking for happiness. To move. To grow. To learn. To do something other than what I was doing because what I was doing was only causing pain to me and to others. Thank God I am on the other side of it now! Why am I being so open? Because all of us get second chances, we just have to know when to take them. 

What does all of this have to do with Easter and my nieces and nephew playing in dogwood blossoms? Everything. My favorite scene in The Passion of The Christ is not a scene at all. It’s actually simply a moment. A moment that gives way to words. Jesus had fallen and fallen under the weight of the cross. Bloody. Bruised. Broken. He can barely stand – let alone carry this weight. Along the journey, Mary follows. Crowd chanting and yelling and crying. Soldiers pushing and prodding and spitting. Mary – following in the distance, in the shadows….. and running…. and following. Trying to get a glimpse. A desperate glimpse into his eyes to tell him one thing: “I am here, my son!” Her face becomes more and more desperate as she follows from the outskirts of the crowd. Unable to get close to Him. Just wanting to get close to Him. His walk becomes weaker and weaker. But it all comes to a peak at One Moment. 

He begins to fall to the ground in slow motion…. Not far from her. She runs to Him…..Quickly. As she runs, she has a flashback of Jesus at around 4 years old. He is falling and crying. She is running to him to console him as a young mother. The flashback ends, and they meet on the ground as he falls and she tries to catch his eye. He looks up among the chaos around him and they are face to face. She looks at him as if to say “Why my son? Why this way? Why aren’t you stopping this? Why?" He says Seven words to her. 7 words:

“See, Mother? I make all things new…”

As if to say: “Do you see? Are you proud of me, Mother? Do you see now? Do you understand?”

Do you? See? Do We? Understand?

It’s about Dancing in Dogwood Blossoms. It’s about the newness of Spring and being brave enough to take second chances. To change the direction we are looking for happiness. To do something different. To finally, once and for all, put the past behind us and forgive – ourselves and him and her and them. To finally, today, say: I can be resurrected. I can Live Again. To die to self and bury our own will to rise on the wings of eagles and fly into what He has for us. Realizing it may look nothing like our hopes or dreams or wishes. But that’s ok. Maybe it’s not about getting what we want or life being the way we always thought it would be. Maybe its about knowing when to take second chances and praising Him for giving us that opportunity.

And MAYBE just maybe…. 

It’s about Dancing in Dogwood Blossoms. Just because we can: )