The Epic Road Trip, Part I: West Coast to Denver

As it turns out, my summer is full of a lot of travelling.

I know, I know, you all are thinking about how hard this is going to be on me, and how much I hate travelling and how much this surprises you, but don't worry, I think I'll manage.  Somehow.   ;) 

First on the list:  Cross-country road trip.  This happened by accident, it wasn't supposed to be a part of my summer, but it ended up being a great (albeit accidentally put together) opportunity, so being me, I grabbed the bull by the horns and took it!  :)  

(if you want pictures, you will have to go to Facebook, adding pictures made this post way too long) 

I flew from DC to San Jose, where I met up with my bestie Angela, and we hung out in San Francisco for a day.  It was a whirlwind tour of the city, but we drove past Candlestick Park and AT&;T Park, and along the Embarcadero. We walked through Chinatown and the Financial District, saw Grace Cathedral, Nob Hill, and the Ferry Building (where I had the best coffee of my life - yes, even better than Dominican coffee) before driving up to Coit Tower to see Lombard Street, and then through North Beach and to the Wharf. We hung out along the Wharf, walked out to Pier 39, saw Alcatraz, and ate deliciously fattening clam chowder and a Ghirardelli shake from the original factory before we headed home.  

Yes, we did all that in 6 hours.  :)  It was awesome.  Also, San Francisco = maybe the coolest city ever.  If you haven't been, it should immediately be bumped to the top of your vacation to-do list.  

For those of you who are extremely observant, and noticed an important landmark missing from the above lightning-speed tour of the city, fret not my friends.  Yes, I did manage to see the Golden Gate Bridge (although to my mother's relief I did not get to bike across it, nor did I get to go BASE jumping off it, nor did I get to scale one of it's spindly red pinnacles and hang precariously from the top.  It seems as though at least one of these ought to be on my bucket list, just for kicks...).  We drove out that way the next morning as we left the city.  Yes, it was amazing at it seems in the pictures.  And I got to do it all with one amazing best friend.

For our next breathtaking stop, we drove over Donner Pass, and to Lake Tahoe.  Oh. My. Goodness.  This place is beautiful.  We stopped and just stood, in our shorts and t-shirts, almost in disbelief that there is a place with a real, honest to goodness sand beach, a huge lake (big enough for all watersport, except whale hunting or marlin wrangling, but unless you're the foolish old man from The Old Man and the Sea - which is a worthless story - marlin wrangling probably isn't your thing...), AND real, snow-capped mountains, all with 70 degree weather along the water.  I am not kidding you.  It is as gorgeous as it sounds.  But don't worry, my Colorado loyalty is still in tact.  

We then spent the night in the middle-of-nowhere Nevada (which is not a particularly beautiful state, for the record...).  The next day was full of just as much excitement, in a different sort of way.  

We hopped in the car around 7am, and got in about 3 hours of driving before the unforeseen hit... Gertrude's transmission went out on us, right at the Utah-Nevada border.  Here's how that went:

We were able to get poor Gertude going enough to get the two miles from where she wanted to die to the nearest mechanic, where she officially died in the parking lot.  It took another 4-ish hours to diagnose the problem, figure out what we were going to do about it, and how to get everything back to Denver.  We ended up waiting another 2 1/2 hours in the casino (the ONLY place to hang out, which was back over the Nevada border - yes, I think this town exists strictly for gambling...), while we waited for a friend of Angela's dad to come get us.  After we loaded up his truck, said our sad goodbyes to poor old Gertie, we drove 2 hours to Salt Lake City.  

Let's just take a moment and count the blessings here, shall we?:  Broke down in the morning, in the daylight, along a well-traveled and easy highway.  Only 2 miles from one of the only mechanics between Reno and Salt Lake.  Managed to get the car to said mechanic without a tow truck.  Had the kindest, most generous, very knowlegeable mechanic anyone could ever have asked for.  Had a friend in Salt Lake.  Said friend in Salt Lake fed us, drove with us, let us nap in their guest room, and were some of the friendliest, most generous people I've ever met.  Was with my best friend.  My best friend has a family that I completely, 100% trust.  Can we just say that God is so good?!    

Aside: Salt Lake City is so much prettier than I thought it would be.  Also, fun fact: Salt Lake is super shallow (mostly less than 15 feet).  

We waited another two hours at this friends house (they were so kind and gracious, and they even fed us an amazingly delicious dinner) before Angela's dad arrived, where we loaded up the car, turned around, and drove straight back to Denver.  Driving through the night did not make my mother happy - even after I reminded her that I refrained from attempting some crazy stunt off the Golden Gate Bridge.  But, we were still home in time for Mother's day.  

This was the boring part of the trip - it was dark outside, so I took a grand total of 3 pictures, and slept for most of the trip (when I wasn't driving).  Besides, it was mostly Wyoming, which has gorgeous parts, but also has ugly parts, so it was ok.  

I was welcomed back to a foggy, overcast (but nonetheless beautiful) Denver around 6am.  Home at last.  :)  

Here's to hoping part 2 won't be quite as dramatic!  :)  

Haiti (Act II): Jeddavie (and the Return)

I love Haiti.  With all of my heart, I really do.

I love doing ministry there.  I love pushing through the hard, frustrating moments to find those moments of divine perfection, pushing through language barriers to finally understand one another, and pushing through the ugly circumstance to find the redemption underneath.

I met Jeddavie when praying for a small shop, where a couple was trying to support themselves and build a family.  When we were done, she grabbed my hand and led me to her home.  She, too, was seeking prayer.

This is not an uncommon occurrence in Haiti.  Almost everyone there will tell you they are Christian, and everyone always wants prayer, especially from "the white missionaries".  We did a lot of praying, and nearly every person we encountered wanted something from us.  After all, the only reason white people are ever in Haiti is to give something away.   We only hope that it was received with humble hearts, with brothers and sisters in Christ, and that the Gospel went out unhindered.

Jeddavie is a woman raising 3 kids by herself.  I do not know what happened to her husband, or if she even had one.  Her entire home is about the size of my bedroom.  When I stepped in, the smell of bodies, dust, and urine was strong, despite her clearly valiant attempts to keep her home clean and presentable.  She stood probably about 5'3", but had a strong presence and so seemed much taller.  Her hair was pulled back under a scarf, which she was using as a head covering.  She was well muscled, and her hands were calloused and worn, although I would guess she was only around 30, in some ways she seemed much older.  She had a beauty and dignity about her, a sort of maturity and leadership that was immediately present.  We discussed the Gospel with her, and it became apparent, despite the language barrier, that she adores Jesus.

We prayed with her, and left.

The next day, at our Bible study, she appeared again.  She had clearly stopped in the middle of some laborious work that resulted in her being covered in dust and sweat (somewhat of a rarity for women in Haiti), and came with her worn, and clearly well used Bible.

As we interacted with these women, and we began to teach them, it became clear that she was not only a hard worker, but well-educated (at least by Haitian standards), and well-respected within the community.  She was the one who immediately jumped up to read scripture, she was the one who shush-ed the other women when they were being too noisy, she was the one who handed out extra pens to the women who had forgotten.

This woman loves her Saviour.

In the midst of the frustrating interactions with Jaqueline (here is her story, for those interested), in the heat of Haiti, feeling thwarted by languages and defeated by the cultural expectations of us, Jeddavie provided a glimpse of hope.  She provided a moment of redemption, and a person (a woman, no less!) to train up and encourage who is already ingrained in that community in a way I never could be.

She is one that I have continued to pray for relentlessly, hoping that she can be a light for that darkened community.

And she is one I will be going to see again, to check on and encourage, to teach and to love.

Yes, Ladies and Gentlemen, with that I have an announcement to make:

In less than one month, I will be returning to Haiti!  

Yes, that's correct.  This was in fact as fast a decision as it may seem to you.  The opportunity arose, the Lord stirred in my heart, and less than 3 weeks later I found myself committing to going again.  The plane tickets are bought, the passport is ready, and my heart is full.

It was not as easy a decision as you might think, however.  Partly due to my own folly, my own foolish heart and partly due to the Lord's perfect timing, and the work of the Spirit, it was a slightly tormented 3 weeks.  Indeed, it took more prayer, thought, fasting, discussion, sleepless nights, and prayer (yes, I know I mentioned it twice - it took that much) to make this decision than it took to make the decision to go in March.

I did not want to allow myself to get to excited, to be hurt or let down by a gracious God's good "no", if that was His will (how foolish my heart is, that the pain of a "no" would cripple the good and perfect plans God has for me!), and I did not want to fall into a trap of going (or not going) for the wrong reasons.  I lost sleep over this decision.  I prayed and fasted and prayed, knowing and making known the desires of my heart and seeking the will of the Lord.  I talked to a lot of people, most of them more than once.  And in the end, I heard a passionate and jubilant "yes"!

And so, I will be returning to Haiti.  With abundant joy and overwhelming gratitude for a God who indeed grants me the desires of my heart, in one month, I will be standing at Jeddavie's doorstep, hoping to see her smiling face.  I cannot wait to greet a sister with a hug and word of encouragement, and to continue to build up and be built by my family in Haiti.

Remembering Where I Came From

I see growth in you, she says.  Evidences of grace. 

I know! I giggle, mostly to myself.  From across the couch, she smiles at me.  And then my little giggle turns into a full, toothy grin, a hearty chortle that sounds ridiculous, like something between a man and a donkey.  But I don't care.

In that moment, I can look back.  I look back at the girl I was 2 years ago, on the brink of a life-changing discovery I didn't even know was happening.  I look back, and I laugh.

The kind of laughter that only the redemption of Christ could bring to someone looking back at their life, so deep in sin and death and pain.

5 weeks later, I'm walking out of the grocery store, laughing the same laugh.  Another friend has told me something similar.  And I can't help but smile with joy.

It's fun, I say.  It's just fun!

She smiles.  You're adorable.

I smile back.  Here's what makes me laugh, I say, I get to pray, for the rest of my life, that God would grow me in a way that I would not recognize myself year to year.  I can grow as fast as I want, and I don't ever have to worry about getting to the end.   God will never run out of things to teach me!

That's true, she replies with a chuckle, clearly enjoying watching me sound like a 5-year-old who has just learned a basic but awe-inspiring fact of life.

It's fun, mostly because it has nothing to do with me.  Absolutely nothing to do with me.

Sometimes I lament that I am not, and can never be, that girl who has never known life apart from Christ.  I lament the lost years, the tearing down of what I built up in order that God might build instead.  I want to regain the lost years of a relationship with my God.

But then I remember that I get to experience the redemption of Christ in a unique way, because I walked in rebellion for so long.  Not that my experience is better than someone else's, it is just different.  I have gotten to experience different facets of the same Gospel.  

And so I remember as I walk, that God is teaching me.  Slowly transforming me from one degree of glory to another, day by day.  And it is beautiful. 

Because it is all about Him.