Bryant: "Mommy, can I watch a movie?"

Me: "No, Bryant. We're five minutes from school. It's a beautiful day. Look out the window at all of the wonderful things God created! Look at the flowers and the trees and the birds and..."

Bryant: "Mommy?"

Me: "Yes, sweetie?"

Bryant: "God made the TV too."

Lost Children of Haiti

Last night most of our Haiti team reunited to watch 60 Minutes on CBS. It was so good to reconnect with everyone. There is something about the bond you develop with people you serve like this with that is hard to explain unless you experience it. I love these people.

While we were working at the Good Samaritan Orphanage, the folks from 60 Minutes were there finishing up filming a project they had been working on for a few weeks. We had some good conversations with Solly Granatstein, the producer on this piece called "The Lost Children of Haiti." The point of the story was to talk about the kids who have been separated from their families and the enormous task of trying to reunite them or find homes for the ones who were orphaned by the quake. Global Orphan Project was chosen to spotlight as a ray of hope in a pretty dark world.

One of the children this piece profiles is a 13-year-old girl named Renise. I had plenty of opportunities to watch this child while we were there, because she was usually hanging around the perimeter of where most of the kids were, almost always by herself. In fact, I don't remember ever seeing her talk to other children, just adults.

I didn't realize that there was more tragedy to Renise's story than being 7 1/2 months pregnant at a time when girls should be day-dreaming about who will be their first kiss. I mentioned in one of my first blogs from Haiti that there was a child there whose tragedy clearly didn't begin with the earthquake. I was talking about Ranise, but I had no idea that the quake had actually bought her freedom.

As a small child, Ranise was sold by her family into domestic servitude, otherwise known as slavery. These child slaves are called restaveks and the practice is perfectly legal in Haiti.

Slavery plays a huge part in the history of this island nation. Shortly after Columbus "discovered" this part of the New World, the island was invaded by Europeans interested in exploiting its resources. The Taino Indians that lived there either died from disease, were forced into slave labor or were killed if they refused. Eventually, Spain and France fought over the territory and France ended up with the western third of the island. Over the majority of the 18th Century, 30,000 French immigrants moved to what is now called Haiti to establish a highly profitable colony centered around sugar, coffee and indigo. By 1790, there were thousands of enslaved Africans that had been imported to work the fields, and France had a very successful piece of the New World.

Not long after that, a great rebellion began, eventually leading to former slaves winning independence from France in 1804. Haiti is the only nation to be born from a slave revolt.

Despite that history, there are estimated to be hundreds of thousands of children living as domestic servants in Haiti today. Ranise's story is that of a modern day Cosette from Les Miserables. She was forced to sleep on the floor and do hard labor while the daughter of the family apparently did neither. Several months ago she was raped and became pregnant. When Global Orphan Project found her, she was wandering the streets. Thank God, they are the ones that found her.

While we were there, I never heard Ranise speak. Not once. None of us did. So to hear her voice on the TV last night was a powerful moment. I brought her a bottle of water one afternoon when the heat was so oppressive and I knew how uncomfortable she must be towards the end of her pregnancy. She just quietly took it from me and walked away. The sadness in her face is heart-wrenching. We were all kind of shocked to hear her story in her own words last night.

Clearly there is much in Haiti that needs to be trashed and rebuilt. This practice needs to be trashed and incinerated. What can we do about this? When we see problems of this great magnitude, it is so hard to do anything but just shake your head and wish things were different. But there has to be more to it than that, doesn't there?

Please continue to pray for Haiti, that this will be an open door to bring in a truly reformative government that can put policies into place that will begin to rebuild Haiti from within. Pray for a huge work of the Holy Spirit there. Only God can truly make things new.

If you have 12 minutes, please open your heart to The Lost Children of Haiti.

P.S. At 12:09, you will see a shot of kids sitting on bunk beds in their new orphanage with Pastor Moise. Those are the beds that Sweet Sleep provided and that this girl helped haul into that room. We also hauled a ton of rock around that orphan complex and painted the walls almost simultaneously with the concrete being poured. It was such a privilege to help put a home back together for 47 kids who God spared that day.

And here we are with Scott Pelley. Yes, he looks like he just stepped out of the Green Room. That's all I have to say about that. :)

Week in Pics

There's been no time to blog this week, so here is what we've been up to:

Last Thursday I hosted a Mary Kay party for a friend of mine, Rachel Stooksbury, who is just getting started in her business. Because it ended up just being a few of us, Darlene and I decided to let our girls join us. They couldn't have been more ecstatic about this idea!

On Friday, Riley Grace spent the night and I left for Zumba on Saturday morning. I found some incredibly interesting pictures on the camera from my time away. This is one of them.

Monday was Brad's 11th birthday. Since he was on Spring Break, he was allowed to have a sleepover with one of his best buddies. Here they are practicing for "A Minute to Win It."

On Tuesday, the boys both had their yearly physicals. This was a riot in so many ways. Unfortunately for Brad, he had to get four shots. But the doctor told him there were no more boosters until he's 21, so he chose to focus on that. I wish you could have seen Bryant strutting around the room in his paper gown. I totally saw how he could become a flasher later in life if we don't channel this energy elsewhere.

Brad knew that his birthday present from us was supposed to arrive via UPS around 5:00. I like to call this one "Anticipation."

And the big reveal:

We have the Lego version of Rock Band, which is quite enjoyable and totally G-rated. Love it! So for his birthday, Brad finally got the drum set. I played them tonight in a little Swords family concert, and I have to admit that it is pretty addictive. :)

I think we can totally hit the road.

Sadly for the band, they only had a 30-minute window to play in before my Bible study girls arrived. Since I was in such a picture-taking mood, and almost everyone was here this week, I forced them all to sit for a photo. These are my girls. I can't imagine this journey without them.

Wednesday morning, it was also time for Lily's yearly checkup. There are no words for how things went yesterday while I was attempting to get this cat into our cardboard carrier. Simply put, she wasn't having it. I don't know if she suffers from claustrophobia or what, but there was no way she was going in that box. I had her completely in at one point and was putting the cardboard flaps through when she quite literally burst through the top of the box and ripped it open. It was Steroid Kitty. I finally agreed to just let Bailey carry her in the back seat of the van and prayed like crazy she wouldn't bolt out of my arms in the parking lot. It was a crazy morning, but she came through like a champ. Brad was kindof miffed that she only had to get two shots, but satisfied himself with the thought that she indeed had to come back next year for more, while he, as previously mentioned, is through with shots until he is 21. (This has been a recurring theme since Tuesday.)

Today has been busy, but I made every effort to play with my kids when they asked, instead of sitting at my laptop and work like I felt I "should." I'm quite sure I'll remember that game of Horse in the sunshine this afternoon for a lot longer than my scoping efforts will make a difference in the World Trade Center litigation. At least to me. Definitely to my kids.

Tomorrow: Chuck E. Cheese in a joint party for my 11-year-old and soon-to-be 4-year-old sons. Total madness. Bring it. :)

For 3rd quarter projects, Brad's teacher decided to step away from American Indians and have the 5th graders do service projects instead. They were able to choose anything they wanted to do, as long as she approved it first. Brad decided that he would like to do a food drive for a local pantry called The Well.

He made a poster to advertise and inform the congregation of what items were most needed. After church on Sunday, he stood by the door. He also had fliers that his buddies helped him pass out.

The next week, he arrived early to set up a table to collect the food that came in. This is the Sunday I was in Haiti, so I didn't get to see him in action. So thankful for the pictures!

He was stunned to realize that by the time it was over he had collected seven boxes and three grocery sacks full. I don't think he ever expected to get that much.

Here he is delivering the goods.

The folks at The Well were very appreciative and encouraging. Brad mentioned that he would like to do it again, and they told him to keep it coming. They said that they fed over 900 families in our area last year, and that summer is the slowest time for collection, so they encouraged him to do it again in a few months.

Brad said that he learned through this experience that it really feels good to help others. What better lesson could I hope for out of a school project?

Here he is giving his presentation in class yesterday.

His speech began with 1 John 3:17-18. "If anyone has material possessions and sees his brother in need but has no pity on him, how can the love of God be in him? Dear children, let us not love with words or tongue but with actions and in truth."

That's my boy. :)

Going Back to my Roots

Yes, it's me.

Apparently this is somewhat close to the color God intended my hair to be, because my stylist matched the color to my roots. I've been highlighting and lightening my hair for so long that I had no idea just how dark it had gotten under there. (That's just begging for a spiritual application, but will have to wait for another day.)

Why now? Actually, for the past few months I've been feeling like I needed to make a change to something that would require less maintenance. I felt like I was spending way too much money having to go in and get my roots covered up every 6-8 weeks. It just felt wrong, but I couldn't exactly put my finger on why.

Since I began reading Crazy Love with my Bible study girls in January, God has completely rocked my world. Do not read this book if you are afraid to confront some serious truth in Scripture. I have begun praying and asking God to point areas of my life out to me where I can sacrifice in order to give more away.

When I was in Haiti, I was overwhelmed with the truth of the world's orphan population. It is no longer a statistic to me to hear that there are 147 million orphans in the world. Some of those kids now have faces and names and have etched their way into the corners of my heart. When I hear Jesus say to take care of the least of these, it's now impossible for me to pretend I don't know who he's talking about.

While I was there, I was asking God to forgive me for my long-standing pattern of throwing leftovers at the poor. I've given enough to make me feel like I was doing something. When I compare my giving to others, it holds up pretty well. When I compare my giving to what Jesus gave, it looks far less impressive.

So as I was praying and asking God to point things out to me that needed to change, I very clearly heard Him say, "Why don't we start with your hair?" I know to some of you that will sound ridiculous. To some of you that might sound terrifying. To me, it felt like freedom.

I realized that He had been preparing me in the preceding weeks for just that moment. He even allowed me to have a conversation with another team member who had spent the last year growing all of the color out of her hair because she wanted it to be healthier. All of that culminated in this one moment where He could speak to me and know I was ready to listen. It was beautiful.

So I made the decision to just go for it. Rather than gradually darken my blonde over time, I figured we might as well dye it all the color that my roots are going to come in and eventually all of the dyed stuff will get cut off. Yes, the shock factor was greater than I expected. But I am experiencing a freedom in this that is so worth it.

No, I do NOT think it is a sin for anyone to color their hair. Please believe that. I am not judging anyone for doing so. I've done it forever, seriously. I, in no way, want to impose my conviction on anyone else. That is what is so beautiful about a deeply personal, intimate God. It's just that for me, at this particular point in my life, I felt like He was asking for this. It was my privilege to put it on the altar.

For the amount of money I spend a year to have blonde hair, I can send two Ugandan children to school with clothes and two meals a day in their tummies. I'm pretty sure they're not going to care what I look like.

Therefore, I urge you, brothers, in view of God's mercy, to offer your bodies as living sacrifices, holy and pleasing to God - this is your spiritual act of worship. (Romans 12:1)

There are so many things I want to blog about, but I just haven't found the time to sit and do it. When you are a homeschooling, carpooling, self-employed mom of three, sometimes it's hard to find personal time. But I promise there is lots more to come, just as soon as I can.

For now, please enjoy the lawnmower song. This made me famous. :)

I was just looking for a story on Katie's blog that I wanted to share with a friend and I stumbled across this. I'm quite sure it wasn't by accident, because I could have written every word.

A Story of Provision

Some of you know about this one because you played an active role, but I wanted to give God some glory for a very specific thing He did last week.

Last Thursday we only went as far as Santo Domingo in the Dominican Republic. Since we had a six-hour bus ride into Haiti, we spent the night at a hotel and left at 4 a.m. on Friday. I had envisioned a much worse ride than what actually came to pick us up. There was plenty of room for our luggage in the back of the bus and Kim and I were the only ones who even had to share a seat. It was air-conditioned and the roads through the Dominican were fairly smooth. We had an awesome driver named Frank and we were just glad to be on our way.

We made a couple of pit stops along the way to use the restroom and purchase water (which is another story in itself for another day.) But we finally made it to the border somewhere around 10:00. That is when things really got interesting.

Clearly there was a massive traffic jam. It looked something like this.

We were basically at a complete impasse. There were vehicles completely covering the road going towards Haiti, and there were vehicles in the same lanes facing our direction. No one was getting anywhere.

Our driver, Frank, got out and was talking to some of the heavily-armed police. When he came back he said, "We're not going anywhere today." He began to move us over into a big lot. And we began to pray. I texted Jeff and a few good friends and asked them to pray and spread the word. I believe that your prayers were heard.

After about 15 minutes or so, we started trickling out of the bus to look around. It truly appeared that we had a long time to wait. We hung around observing the chaos for probably another good 30 minutes, when suddenly we heard Kim yelling at us to get back to the bus. Frank was ready to go.

Wild with curiosity, we ran back to the bus and climbed aboard. Frank started driving towards the traffic where we were met with a couple of armed guards who began escorting us through the madness. Vehicles had been pulled over in lines to both sides of the road so that a path could get through. Here we are watching one of the last trucks come through the middle to clear the path.

After that truck went, we peered around and saw our dry ground through the Red Sea. It was nothing short of spectacular. We were laughing and clapping and praising God for what He had so obviously done. I mean, it was truly ridiculous. There was no reason for us to be getting that escort through other than the hand of God at work. I can't express enough how your prayers truly made a difference for us that day and how astounded I was to watch God show Himself so vividly right before my eyes. I shouldn't have been astounded. I've seen Him do it before.

Maybe it was because he knew this was waiting for us as we drove into the compound.

This is Kim paying and thanking Frank, our own personal Moses.

I pray that God parts some water for each of you today and you see that even the most ordinary day can be transformed into something miraculous with a little faith and a great big God. :)

Where do I begin?

I can't do a play-by-play for you like I have done in the past on mission trips. Since I didn't have my laptop with me, I wasn't able to sit down and write out everything that happened every day, which was a lot of stuff. Quite honestly, at the end of each day I was completely spent. I was grateful to just take a shower, lather up in bug repellent, crawl under my mosquito net and crash.

Over the next several days I will attempt to at least give you glimpses of what Haiti was like for me. How I know you were covering us in prayer, for which I am so very grateful. How I do see hope for Haiti in the pouring out of God's spirit on His people, who can then extend that love to a heart-broken and weary nation. How my own heart has been ripped right out of my chest and scattered all over an orphan compound 1500 miles from here.

I've been crying off and on since I walked in my house last night. I cried as I took a shower, knowing that I could stay in there as long as I wanted to without fear of mosquitoes and with unlimited hot water. I cried when I lay down next to my husband in my warm comfortable bed thinking of the thousands of people sleeping outside on the ground because they either have no home or are too afraid to go back inside. I cried thinking of my three kids sleeping comfortably in their own rooms, thinking of the 25 bunk beds we had crammed into a two-room orphanage earlier in the day.

Beds that are a vast improvement over the urine-stained, bug-infested mattresses that the children used to sleep on, on the floor. Praise God for his vision of Sweet Sleep and for Jen Gash who obediently answered the call. She is an amazing woman and I am so privileged to call her my friend.

I cried when I got to hug each of my children, thinking of all the babies I left behind who can't hug their mommies anymore. I can't even write that without the tears starting to flow.

I cried watching Bryant eat his leftover scrambled eggs, sausage and waffle with strawberries and whipped cream for breakfast. That's what he asked for, and that's what he got. And I thought of this.

This is what the kids eat twice a day, and they are just grateful to have food in their bellies.

As I write, Bailey is upstairs taking a long hot bath. And I cry thinking of this.
These kids actually have the opportunity to shower. It is outside and they do it in groups, but at least they have the ability to do so. There are so many who do not.

I weep thinking of my John and how deeply he touched my heart. His face haunts me and the depth of pain in his eyes has left me permanently scarred. I love that child and chances are I will never see him again, never even know what happens to him. I can't even think about it or I am overwhelmed with sorrow.

The questions to sort out are where to go from here. God has been changing me over the past couple of years. Lately He has been turning up the heat even more. I believe He wants me to feel this pain, to let it in. I believe He wants me to see the world the way He sees it. I believe He wants that for all of us.

Fair warning. I'm kind of a mess right now. And that's okay. Don't pray for me to get over it. Obviously I need to get to a point where I'm not bursting into tears every few minutes, but that will come. I don't want to get better by forgetting. I want to get better by putting my pain and faith into action and making a difference one step at a time.

I hope you'll come too.

I hate that I have to blog without pictures, but check sweetsleep and facebook if you want to see a few.

I don't really have time to blog much tonight, but I just wanted to let you know that I am alive and well and so beyond happy to be here. This trip couldn't have been more perfect so far. I am in love.

We spent the entire day here at the compound with the kids. We've done a lot of singing, some arts and crafts, painted some fingernails, played duck, duck, goose, more singing, coloring, games and more singing. These kids are incredibly beautiful, sweet, funny, and mostly just desperate for attention.

There are a few that you can tell are emotionally traumatized. There is a 13-year-old that will be having a baby in a month and a half. I don't think her trauma started with the earthquake. There are little babies that walk around mostly naked. There is a little boy pushing around a walker because apparently when the quake hit his legs were stuck in a full split and his hip was badly injured. There is a little boy whose mom sent him out for groceries on the day of the quake and when he came back in he found both parents dead. He wandered around doing whatever he could to survive for a few days until he was picked up and taken to the hospital. That's how he ended up here.

For the most part, a lot of the kids seem perfectly normal. Yes, they want to be loved and touched and held. So do my kids. They fight for attention and want to be at the front of the line when we're passing stuff out. So would mine. They can sing and dance their hearts out just like mine. And yet they have witnessed unspeakable tragedy and massive loss. Their world has been permanently altered. There is no chance of them forgetting about the quake and moving on with their lives like the rest of us will tend to do.

Yesterday afternoon, there was a boy named John who came and sat next to me at one point. I was holding a little 4-year-old girl at the time, but he was content to just sit by me. He's really quiet and has a beautiful smile. He smiles at me whenever I smile at him, but other than that he sort of has a sad, withdrawn look about him.

As he was sitting there, he kept getting closer and closer. Eventually he put his arm around my waist. He was sitting so still. I almost started to feel weird about it since he was older. And suddenly it hit me like a ton of bricks that he is Brad's age. What does Brad do when he is sad or upset about something? He wants to snuggle with me. He wants to sit quietly with his arm around me. He just wants to know I'm there and that I'm going to take care of him and love him. I was overwhelmed with the idea that I was filling in for John's mommy. Such a poor substitute, but at the moment I was the best he could find. I squeezed him so tight and we just sat there for a long time.

John has become my bud. I'll post his picture on Facebook so you can see him. But we're pretty tight. He's not always with me, but sooner or later he ends up next to me.

Today the mammas decided to do our hair in braids. Unfortunately you can see that picture on Facebook as well. But while mine was getting done, John stood patiently holding my massive hair out of the way so it could get braided. He barely says a word, but when it was done he smiled at me and said "jolie," which means he thought it was pretty. There are no words.

Tonight I had the unspeakable privilege of rocking a baby to sleep while participating in an all-out praise fest. The kids were singing praises to our Jesus in a language I couldn't understand but the meaning was printed all over their face.

How can they be so thankful? How do they know how to worship like this in the midst of unspeakable circumstances? Why do I hold so much back when I have been blessed beyond anything I could ever hope to deserve?

Tomorrow is Sunday. We'll be driving an hour or so to Pastor Moises' church. He found out this week that his 8-yr-old son had been killed when they finally pulled his body out of the rubble. The church is completely demolished, yet we'll be worshipping outside next to it with his congregation. Again, no words.

We have to get up super early, and I'm already anticipating being awakened by the same demon-possessed roosters that serenaded me when this day began, so I'll sign off for now.

Please keep praying. Not just for us. Pray for Haiti. The work is overwhelming. There were heavy rains today that flooded several villages in the south. This is not good news.

Love to you all.

It's 2:15. Meredith is supposed to be here to get me in an hour. I just finished getting everything ready, so the question of whether or not I should sleep became moot a while back. I know I would have just been awake in bed anyway, so it probably doesn't matter. I never seem to sleep under these circumstances.

There are so many thoughts swirling through my head about what the next week will hold. There are so many unknowns. There are quite a few fears, some larger than others. Mostly, though, there is an indescribable joy over what I'm about to get to do.

Many of you have been walking with me on a journey lately. Lots of us have described a feeling of restlessness, of feeling like God is up to something and not being exactly sure what it is. I know that I have been relentlessly pounded over the past several weeks with the message of the cost of discipleship. Over and over, I hear Jesus telling me that He requires everything from me, not just the parts that are easy or safe to give. I have spent a lot of time reading Katie's blog and sitting in awe over the faith in action of someone virtually half my age. I am so grateful to have the opportunity to put mine in gear.

One thing God is teaching me. He did not call me to be comfortable. He did not bless me with so much in order for me to simply add it to my inventory. Like the parable of the talents, He expects a return on his investment. It's time to get radical, and I can't wait.

I am desperate your prayers for me and the rest of the team over the next week. I fully expect to be overwhelmed with what I see and experience. I fully expect to want to scoop up dozens of orphans and bring them home. (Don't worry - I know better.) I fully expect an onslaught of attack from a ruthless enemy. I fully expect God to require more from me than ever before. Don't stop praying for me when we are safely back in the U.S. I feel that will just be the beginning.

I'll blog when I can, but it may not get fully fleshed out until I'm back. If you don't see anything here, click on the link to Sweet Sleep for updates from the team.

Love to you all,

LA :)

Weekend in Pics