People tell me they could never… They could never move to Haiti. They could never go through a 10 year adoption process. They could never live without water or electricity or ice blended lattes… The thing about people saying those things is that it implies that the life I am living is a choice. It’s not. Once your purpose grabs ahold of your heart, the idea of choice kind of flies out the window. I have no choice over living in Haiti because I was created to be alive when I am here, I was created to be alive in the place where my purpose lies. Yes, I could probably try to run away from the things that God asks me to do that are hard but I wouldn’t get far and I wouldn’t last long. I’ve tasted the sweetness that mixes with the tears that stream down my cheeks as I hold the slowly cooling body of a child that I loved… I’ve tasted the sweetness mingled with the sweat of trying to fall asleep in the stifling heat, under a mosquito net. I’ve tasted the sweetness of living fully in His passion and His calling. I’ve tasted the sweetness that comes with the hard and painful and it’s something that I would never know or crave if I didn’t experience the raw, realness of disappointment, passion and sacrifice.
In less than 60 days I will take one of the scariest steps of my life in Haiti, when I move to a village I know almost nothing about. A place I begged and pleaded with God over, a place I never WANTED to be called to. Belle Anse scares the crap out of me because I know that it is going to be the hardest thing I have ever done. I am taking huge, into the dark and unknown, steps. I am going to a place where I will have to relearn everything I thought I knew about Haiti. A place where the culture, food and even the language are vastly different that what I have spent the past [almost] 7 years learning. I am going to a place where “magic” isn’t a cute word that is thrown around but a very powerful force that I struggle to understand.
In 56 days I will move my babies into a house that I am forcing myself to be excited about, when what I really want to do is cry over the idea of calling those rough brick walls “home”. If I had a choice I would stay right here, in this little bubble I have created in the cool mountain air of Petionville. But like I said, there is no choice. He called, so I am going and I am stuck in this place of hating the idea and craving it with all of my being. My friends are sick of me whining and complaining and I am sick of crying myself to sleep only to be met with dreams of a beautiful peace that comes in the presence of His promises. There is a part of me that wants to slow down time, to make the last moments in this home last forever. While an even bigger part of me is fighting just to make it through one more day and be that much closer to my new reality.
You might think you couldn’t do this, the truth is I can’t either. But I am. Somehow I am because I need to. Deep down in my soul, I NEED to do this thing that I am scared of. Even when I am terrified and selfish and I want to run away I am drawn to it. Like a drug, I crave those hard, terrible, heartbreaking moments because that is when my God is closest. Things that I think are important, things I am dreading giving up, pale in comparison to the relief and sweetness of being in His will. That is something that I cannot live without.