The next week was the same routine. Ride through the village. Kids screaming, running, and shouting after us. Fighting through the gate, lining the sidewalk and slapping five. I was praying and praying the entire time, asking God to fill me with His love, asking Him to take out any and all thoughts that weren't filled with love and compassion.
I reclaimed my spot in the back, this time sitting on the edge at eye level with the children instead of towering over them. I was handed a baby by a girl in front of me almost immediately. It was easy to hold her as the child was beautiful, her huge browns eyes staring up at me, and I marveled over her, prayed over her, and felt so thankful to give her sister (or maybe even mother) a break from holding her so she could enjoy the service. But while holding her I heard the piercing scream of another baby somewhere in the vicinity. I tried to ignore it, telling myself that she was probably just hot and tired, but I heard God tell me to find her. I got up reluctantly, the baby still in my arms, and walked around the edge of the pavilion. I heard the crying and screaming continue, but couldn't see the child anywhere. I returned to my seat content with the child I had in my lap but a few minutes later, the young girl took her baby back and walked somewhere else and I found myself sitting alone in the midst of thousands of children, that same scream ringing through my ears. I got up again, this time able to maneuver through the children more easily without the baby in my arms. I walked through the benches, hearing the cries but still unable to see the child. As I was walking back Debbie came behind me with the screaming and crying girl in her hands. She thrust her into my arms and told me to hold her. The girl, maybe 2 or 3 years old, hit my arms and instantly became quiet. Within minutes she buried her tear stained and snot covered face into my arm and fell asleep. As I held this peaceful child in my arms my heart was so full. All it took was a safe place, my warm arms, for her to fall asleep. She was so beautiful just laying there, so content in the safety of me hold on her. I thanked God for her, for the rest she was able to receive that morning, and for filling me with love for her.
At the end of the service, the girl's sister came to retrieve her from my arms and as soon as I tried to hand her over, she death-gripped my shoulder and began crying. I soothed her once again and tried to place her in her sister's arms, but again, more tears and fear filled her face. My heart broke… Why didn't she want to go back to her? Eventually, her sister grabbed her fiercely from my arms and took her away, the child still crying and screaming.
Before I could even turn around a 12-year-old boy desperately placed his screaming sister in my arms. Again, as soon as she hit my body she stopped crying and fell asleep. The boy sat next to me, waiting until last to go through the line to receive rice, obviously relieved to not be holding a crying baby for even a few minutes. I walked around with the baby, rocking her and humming to her, but the boys eyes didn't leave me for a minute. He watched me like a hawk as I paced the grass with her, walked around the basketball court, and through the pavilion, his constant protective gaze giving my eyes just a glimpse of the worth that the this precious child held.
As I handed him his sleeping sister at the gate, adjusting her comfortably in his arms and repositioning his bags of rice, he looked me in the eyes and said simply yet boldly, "Thank you so very much," relief and love filling his face. In that instant, my heart overflowed not only for that sleeping baby, but for her protective older brother, willing to carry her home in his arms.
I found out later that evening from Debbie that the reason the first little girl I held was screaming and crying was that her sister was continuously hitting her throughout the service and when Debbie tried to intervene, the girl said she "must fear and respect her". Finally Deb had enough of it and took the child away, placing her in the safe haven of my arms. As I reflect back on that morning in church, thinking about the girls I held and the love I felt, my heart is broken and full all at once. Broken because I wonder where they sleep at night. Is it safe? Is it clean? Are they loved and cared for at home? When is the last time they could sleep soundly, without care or worry? Is the sleep and rest they found in my arms the best they've ever had and will it ever come to them again? And yet, I'm full because I saw God work. I saw Him soften my heart and allow me to look at those children in a new way… Past the wet and slimy hands, past the snot covered faces and bare bottoms, past the dirt and grime covering their bodies, and straight into their little hearts. He used those children to teach me how to love and to show me how incapable I am of loving on my own strength. He showed me that I like to love when it's easy, clean, and without confusion but when it's gets messy, uncomfortable, or just plain hard, I'd rather turn and run than allow His love to be made complete in me. And bigger yet, He showed me myself in those slum kids running through the gate. He showed me the dirt and grime that I carry with me daily and reminded me that He doesn't run to the back to get away from me, doesn't fear me staining His white robe, or spreading my germs of fear, lack of trust, or whatever else I may be struggling with in that moment. Instead, He chases me down and pulls me into His arms. He sits me on His lap and pulls me close, allowing me to sleep and rest in His unending love. He looks past the stain of sin in my life and sees my own little heart, pure and clean and needing nothing but love. He longs to hold me close, in whatever condition I'm in.
I wrote this blog during some down time during our Month Two debrief in Haiti before traveling to Thailand. The night before I started writing, I had a dream of me sitting on God's lap exactly like a child, crying softly and being comforted by Him. He had his arms around me and I leaned into Him feeling safe and loved. The night after I finished writing, we had a prophecy night at debrief. My sister Ashely was praying over me and asking the Lord to give her words for me, and the first thing she said to me was that I was a nurturer and a mother. (And that she saw me with a lot of babies, but I'm still fighting God about that one a little! Haha) She knew nothing of this blog or of the way God taught me how to love in Haiti. She knew nothing about me feeling like a failure of a woman because of my lack of natural nurturing or motherly feelings. And it wasn't until this moment of editing this blog and putting photos in before publishing that God gave me full clarity of these things. He is good. SO, SO good! I'm constantly amazed at the God that I serve!
