Piece of Heaven.

This is darling Angelie.

If her eyes aren't enough to melt you, wait to you hold her.

My attempt at checking the Webster's thesaurus for a good word to describe her was utterly useless... Synonyms for adorable don't even come close.

She's a little piece of heaven combined with a heartbreaking beginning.

Read the story on Lindsay's blog, and please pray for her when she comes to your mind.

Last night as she nuzzled her body into my arms and fell asleep, I hummed songs of love.

She may have been abandoned by her earthly father, but she is still a daughter of the King.

May she live to know His hope.

Making the grade.

I've spent the past few weeks chipping away at report cards.

Mhmm, it's that time again. The school countdown is on and we are on our final sprint to the finish. The kids are wrapping up their summative units and I'm calculating averages and plugging in marks for the final report.

Level 1, 2, 3 & 4 - Percentages - Strengths and Weaknesses - Next Steps.

I've been weighing the scales for each student, each subject - And in case you were wondering, they are all top-notch!

My kids rock.

But can I be honest for a minute?

All this talk about final grades has got me thinking about my own 'life report'.

Blame it on my grading craze as we reach the end of the school year, I often think of getting to heaven like waiting for a report card.

It may sound silly to you, but sometimes that's what I associate my 'service' here on earth to come down to. A list of strengths, weaknesses and grades. The fruits of the Spirit, along with faith and deeds are the 'subject areas'. There will be comments in the side column about where I could have done better, and potentially some notes about some exemplary deeds.

Hopefully this will all be broken down to a passing grade. A sticker would be bonus.

So what do I need to do to make the cut? And what kind of things do I have to do to achieve above the average?

Well, back in the school context, I always tell my kids to check the rubric. Take a look at what expectations are outlined, and where you aim to fall within them. There are different strands of achievement within each assignment. Keep a close eye on the marking scheme, follow it accordingly, and you'll be guaranteed a solid grade at the end.

Okay, now where is my rubric for the other report? Unfortunately, it's not very legit.

Why? Because I make it up myself. I use comparisons based on where I stand with other people. I rank myself based on the 'good' things I have done. I accredit myself or dock marks depending on the thoughts and actions I've made throughout the day. It's my way of assessing my own performance - ensuring that I'm on track.

Um. I think I've made my point pretty clear...

Over the past few weeks I feel like I have been stumbling after some simple truths. Truths that I would like to think I would have nailed down a long time ago. We're going back to the basics here people.

Back to the core of what Jesus was talking about.

A life rooted in love and in relationship with our Maker.

A life free from a 'list'.

A conversation, some truth from Scripture, a book chapter, and some song lyrics have been meshing into an overarching theme which has been tilting my perspective lately...

Convictions about the thought processes going through my head.

I feel like I've been trying to break my life purpose down to an equation:

If I follow these laws, and do this type of work, with this type of attitude, for this many hours, with these certain people, with these kinds of ideas - then I've hit the mark. Cha-ching. Done.

Just put life into compartments. A formula for being 'good' or 'righteous' or 'exemplary'. Follow these simple steps, and you too can 'arrive'.

HowEVER, the list of dos and don'ts crashes and burns when compared to a verse like this:

Yet we know that a person is made right with God not by following the law, but by trusting in Jesus Christ. So we too have put our faith Christ Jesus, that we might be made right with God because we trusted in Christ. It is not because we followed the law, because no one can be made right with God by following the law... It was the law that put me to death, and I died to the law so that I can now live for God.

Galatians 2:16-19

There it is in black and white. Die to the laws. Trust in Christ.

That rubric I was referring to earlier is shredded. Non-existent.

Paul makes it very clear that if I am a slave to the 'checklist' or the 'right way', I'm living in vain.

God strips away the expectations and gives me Himself instead.

Now there is freedom.

Freedom to pursue peace and love and joy and give of myself without concern about saving up for a finale. Jesus already paid it.

I heard someone talk this week about the way love should be.

Love should be about unity. About seeking out the people who can give nothing back and serving them the most. About giving of oneself unconditionally.

This love is raw and painful and other-centered. It's against every grain in us, but if we let go then we allow ourselves to be used by the One who can.

I yearn to love like that. Above anything else, I believe that's what my purpose on this earth is about.

And yet when push comes to shove, I find myself weighing my options and tweaking the system and looking for shortcuts that I can justify. I go right back to where I started. As soon as I think I'm on track, I check my rearview and see the familiar look of a dead end.

So why bother? It's a never ending struggle, so why try at all?

I found comfort in a simple quote this week that urges me to keep on.

I am not who I should be,

I am not who I could be,

But I am not who I was.

I am not perfect, nor will I ever be. Just because I read about it and write about it and talk about it doesn't mean I can apply for mastery. The more I try, the more I fail - Kind of like a one step forward two steps back kind of life. And yet glory be to God for his mercy and grace and undying love. A love that saves. A love that overcomes. A love that goes beyond my attempts. A love that justifies even me.

I want to live in this love and keep trying everyday to keep becoming. I find comfort that each and every time, I fall right back into the arms of my Father.

May His love break me and redeem me and change me until I stumble into His presence and am forever made new.

Bougainvilleas.

For those of you (like me) who aren't 'garden enthusiasts', the title of this blog may confuse you.

Before September 2008, it would have confused me too, but now the bougainvillea has become one of my all-time favourite flowers.

It may not have the 'pop' like a gerbera - just a wispy collection of pink and white petals that bloom from a thorny vine - but it has a deeper significance.

There is a thriving shrub full of them in the guesthouse yard, and as the weather and climate fluctuate, the bougainvilleas flourish. They thrive in the Haitian heat, and despite the changes between the dry season and emerging rainy season, it just keeps growing. It withstands torrential downpours and month-long droughts. The unrelenting winds blow and the sunlight intensifies. Nevertheless, it blooms on. I am amazed at it's resilience. It reminds me of our verse today in devotions - 2 Corinthians 4:8-9 says 'We are hard pressed on every side, but not crushed. We are perplexed, but we don't give up and quit. We are persecuted, but not abandoned. We are struck down, but not destroyed.

Bougavilleas never lose their colour either.

Last year for mothers day, the kids and I made pressed-flower bookmarks. We gathered flowers from a few different shrubs and gardens, collecting the brightest blossoms we could find. After pressing and drying them, the majority had faded significantly, and some we even had to throw out because despite their vivacious colour and scent on the vine, their brown texture cracked on contact after being in a textbook for a week. There was one exception though. Our faithful bougainvillea, despite being a little shrivelled from lack of moisture, still retained it's bright pink colour. We ended up using these flowers the most because they were the only ones that brought our bookmarks to life.

Recently, I've appreciated the bougainvillea shrub for a new reason. The plant is located close to a cement support beam that connects the metal gates around the guesthouse together. Over time, it has grown up the side of the wall on the inside yard where the teams eat their meals. In the past few months however, I have been pleasantly surprised to see the flowering bush spill over onto the other side of the gate. As displayed in the picture, you can see for yourself how this blooming plant hasn't let the gate stop it. It was first planted on the left side of the gate in the picture, however it has grown up and out and beyond, now overflowing to the other side. It has defied it's limits.

I think about my own life and the 'limits' I am tempted to be controlled by. Voices in my mind suppress the urge to break out of the mold. In order to stay 'safe', I accept things that I believe I can't change. I'm restrained by 'gates' that hold me back from true freedom.

This plant reminds me that there is more to life than staying within the limits. I want to seek after understanding and joy and love, and that means doing things that are out of the box and scary and 'different', but that's the kind of life that Jesus was talking about when he said he came to give life to the full.

Some of you may think I'm strange for finding such a connection in a simple flowering shrub, but it's been a consistent reminder to me every time I walk outside and see it bursting from the top of the gate. I want to live without the 'play it safe' restrictions that I easily convince myself of everyday. I don't want to be defined by the status quo. I want to sing and dance and give freely and love without expectation of getting something back. I want to spend it all.

I hope this flower challenges you to do the same.

... And for all you mom's out there, I'll be picking you a bouquet this weekend!

Happy Mother's Day! :)

Lingering sounds.

These are the sounds that linger since January 12th:

Creak. Creak. Creak.

Vibrating furniture has never been so disturbing. When will it ever stop!?

Last night I was awoken by my mattress shaking and my bedside table creaking. It took a few moments to register, but once again I relived my exasperation with aftershocks.

Of course it's severity isn't enough to make me dash outside, but it is enough to make me doubt the peace I have about the worst being over with... I stared into the blackness of my ceiling last night after the shaking ended and wondered how many more aftershocks our guesthouse could endure before the walls will give out. The middle of the night is certainly not the ideal time for an aftershock to hit, as my mind is much more prone to wander. It's a wonder I managed to fall back asleep.

Again this afternoon another aftershock caused most of those inside to flee outdoors for safety. Fortunately, the kids and I were outside doing a volcano eruption experiment, so we did not sense it to the extreme of those indoors.

I think I can speak of most of us in the country when I say that we are all more alert this afternoon of the ground beneath our feet.

Drip. Drip. Drip.

The guesthouse had minimal damage after the original earthquake compared to the village homes. Nevertheless, the closer we look around the corners and edges of our walls, the more we find the small cracks and lines that were formed months earlier. In addition, since the earthquake, I have had a significant amount of water leaking through my ceiling - A leak that was there prior to January 12th, but has become a lot worse since. Usually after about 15 minutes of rain outside, the water begins to filter through the roof in 5 different spots and collects on my bedroom floor.

Fortunately, when my Opa came to visit me last month, he brought with him a gallon of tar to seal the leak. Last night after a heavy downpour, I was overjoyed to discover that the tar he and Broc had applied on the roof 2 weeks ago had sealed the majority of the crack (just one small leak remains, but it's nothing compared to what I had before).

I feel so grateful that their repair was a success, especially as we merge into the rainy season, however there is a lingering pit in my stomach as I think about the thousands of families who have yet to have proper shelter. I can see one of the tent cities from my balcony view into Titanyen, and it is a sobering reminder of how many people are still suffering the effects of the first earthquake. As the evening rains begin their daily routine in the coming months, there will be a very large population who will be struggling to stay dry and clean as the thunder rolls and the water pours down.

Tents and shelters are still being distributed, but there is only so much water they can withstand.

Please keep the people of Haiti in your prayers, along with all of us as we continue to press on despite the sounds, sights and vivid memories of January 12th.

Change.

I can remember my first morning in Haiti like it was yesterday.

I spent the night before in a spare room at the guesthouse because my apartment was infested with cockroaches. The fans blew hot air at my face and I bathed myself in bugspray before turning out the light. Nonetheless, I woke up dripping in sweat, and itchy all over.

My thoughts drifted back to my comfortable bedroom back home, predictability of a Wainfleet routine, and the sweet faces that I left behind.

I was convinced that I had coming to Haiti was the worst decision of my life.

My fears and uncertainty were on a roll... drowning every possible flame of hope I had.

I considered my options:

Was this just a horrible nightmare? Somebody wake me up already.

Or, what it would take to get a private jet to fly to the Mission and pick me up so that I could escape before anyone noticed I was gone?

I was in way over my head and I hadn't even started yet. I didn't understand why God would have brought me here. I would never survive this life. Most of all, my heart was closing by the second. I didn't want to open myself up to possibility or peace or beauty or joy.

I just wanted to go home.

Eventually, I managed to stand myself up and walk downstairs to where a group was gathering for breakfast. Like a zombie, I smiled through the tears and pretended to like the food. Inside my head I was counting how many hundred days of this I would have to wish away.

Little did I know that morning where I would be today. I'm so glad God allowed me to survive it so that I could find out...

The guesthouse kitchen that I dreaded to enter is now my haven of Haitian 'mommies' who cook some of my all-time favourite foods. Don't even get me started on the rice and beans.

My apartment isn't exactly cockroach free (nothing that an Old Navy flip flop can't fix!), but the bright paint on my walls, and friends who come over to play guitar on my couch or dance in my kitchen have made it home. Yesterday morning, the bride of my good friend, Volcy got ready for the wedding in my living room... Who knows who the next guest will be?

The church that was once foreign in both language and people is now a place where I can't stop smiling, singing, clapping and embracing friends.

The hot sunshine that once made me groan has become the light that I look forward to seeing rise over the mountains at 6:30 every morning.

The local village that I used to be afraid of is now one of my favourite places to go. The faces that used to intimidate me now break out into beautiful smiles when I pass by their homes. Children take my hand and their parents wave their hands in welcome.

All of these pieces that I was so hardened to in September 2008 have began to mesh within my heart. And somewhere along the line I have found myself adapting and even embracing this way of life. Hmm, embracing... Hope?

*Disclaimer*I know the title of my blog sounds all flowery and wonderful, but I admit I don't always follow along with the words that I write. Preaching is a lot easier than practicing, and unsurprisingly I fall off the mark.

Thankfully the Lord never gives up, no matter how many times I misfire.

It's a good thing He knows me better than I know myself, and gives me no choice but to change, so that somehow I can fit into His greater plan.

This past Wednesday morning, the Canadian team loaded up the big yellow bus and left in a dust cloud bound for the Port-au-Prince airport.

I cried when they left, but for different reasons than last year.

Last year I would have done anything to heave my luggage on the mound of suitcases and head back home to frigid temperatures and warm fireplaces. This year, the familiar pit in my stomach was there - reminding me of how much I will miss the ones I love, but I wasn't desperate to leave with them.

I think this is because I have a reason to stay. And that reason is more than just getting my 8 kids through their pile of school textbooks. It's the joy I find in the simplest of places - climbing a tree, riding a bike, sitting next to a chicken on a tap tap, or going on a mountain hike.

It's the people I love from the littlest baby Fania up to Poppy Patris.

And it's the excitement that comes in what lies ahead for this country - rebuilding homes and renewing lives.

As I watched the bus grow shrink in size as it descended down the mission hill, I felt the Lord reminding me that He is constant and unchanging, but changing the lives of His children is what He is all about.

Indeed, He is changing me.

The Mission of Hope's vision for Haiti is to transform lives for Christ, and in doing that we want to change people, change programs, change the country, change the world.

The part that is easy to forget is that while we are going about our changing 'others' or 'things' in our lives, the Lord wants to change 'us' too.

He cares more about creating change in us, than in changing the world, because it's only when WE are changed can change happen in the world.

It's such a relief when I realize that I don't have to change anything in my life on my own. God doesn't give me a list of expectations - Things I must transform in my world. Instead He asks for something else, something much more simple, yet also more scary.

Myself.

When I surrender, it's then He can begin to work the change inside of me, and His power changes everything.

It didn't happen overnight, but looking back I am amazed at the change He is working in my heart.

I marvel at the way He put me in a place where despite the doubt in my heart, He manifested a passion for the people of Haiti inside of me. He planted seeds that first had to die, but now they are growing and blooming. He took away some of the hopes in my hands, and instead is fulfilling the dreams in my heart.

Hallelujah.