BECAUSE, Haiti

Last week, one evening I was hurting and aching and I wanted to accomplish several more things and it SIMPLY was not going to happen.

Instead of pausing and reflecting on what I had done and thinking on the things I COULD celebrate, I started to slip into a SELF-PITY party. Because sometimes it just feels good. Because poor me. Because no one else knows how rough my life IS. Because poor me. Because I have to DEAL. Because poor me. You get the idea.

I wanted to curl up into this big ole heap and just feel SO SORRY for myself and maybe thrash around a little and say, {or scream} {whichever the case may be} “I AM TIRED OF HURTING.”

“I’m tired of not being able to move easily. I’m tired of not being able to get things done.”

{Even though I am improving and feeling stronger each week.}

My friend had surgery and we went to visit and I’d kind of forgotten it was coming up and I didn’t even take flowers or anything and that bothers me, because I like to take people flowers and people have blessed me so much at times in my life with flowers and gifts and I want to give back.

My daughter’s birthday was on THE BRINK and I wasn’t pulling things together for that like I really wanted and it made me sniff, because I want to create good memories and celebrate and there was this LOUD voice in my head saying, “Snort. ALL your kids are EVEN going to remember is that mom never felt good and they probably will just remember that she just felt sorry for herself. {Big lies here.}

I wanted to fix good food and make things special and remember the day she was born!!

I just wanted to feel so sorry for myself. BUT THEN I COULDN’T.

Because, HAITI.

Quietly into my  mind.

A group of people tucked into a mountain living very,very basic life.

THRILLED, thrilled to have the construction of a church building for them, happening.

A man living there, whose ultimate dream is to own a small motorcycle offering him more freedom and transportation. He only has his feet for transportation unless he can snag a ride.

Little children living there who, when served chicken legs, ate it all. EVERY BIT. Chicken. Skin. Fat. Bone. Every bit. And found the bones thrown out and gnawed on them too.

And then I EVEN wanted to be a little bit mad that I couldn’t throw this big poor-poor-me-feel-so-sorry party for myself. Because. HAITI.

Part of me felt like the funny anecdote I pulled out and read about my son on his birthday last week.

When he was about two-and-a-half, we were doing our weekly Wal-Mart run. He spied a baby in another cart and he said, “Me want a baby like that.” To tease him, I replied, “That baby might want your kitty blank.” {Kitty blank was his very-special-drag-around-sleep-with blankie!} Later on he looked at me and said, “That baby get my kitty blankie, ME BE MAD.”

That was a little how I wanted to feel. “Me can’t feel sorry for myself. Me be mad.” Like a two-and-a-half-year-old.

Sometimes my selfish and my self-centered just erupts like a volcano all over the place.

And boy, was it boiling close.

But then. YOU KNOW. Haiti.

These dear people created by God, loved by God, living and rejoicing in Him.

These hard-working people who wanted to help, as much as possible, the people “helping” them.

When the other tasks were completed, if the women on the work team were still washing the dishes, this job would be taken over by the Haitian girls who were helping. They simply worked. Nor would they help themselves to any of the food or meals they helped the team prepare until they were told to do so by the team. These girls who, while they have food, do not have abundance of food.

These women who carry five gallon buckets of water on their head, daily. Uphill no less. And not just an easy climb or a small grade, but a steep hill. Small children carrying water in whatever container they can manage. Water is life and it is part of their daily routine from little up. Hauling and carrying water everyday.

So, Haiti. How could I sit in my cozy basement with my RUNNING WATER and my cupboards of food and FEEL SORRY FOR MYSELF, simply because I couldn’t do everything the way I really wanted to?

MY GOODNESS.

Do you know how thankful I am that I don’t have to carry water on my head everyday? AS IF. I couldn’t even begin to. {But, I do have this daughter. And she tried it out when she was in Haiti. And I imagine she would soon be quite good at it! 😉 }  Do you know how thankful I am for cold water and hot showers? Do you know how thankful I am for a surgeon and a hospital and a place to go to get help for my hurting back?

Don’t get me wrong. I know I will have more meltdowns and breakdowns and feel sorrys.

And there is a time and place for tears and mourning and sorrow. Life hurts hard at times. We need to work through things and feel and sometimes just be sad. BUT, we can’t camp out there.

And there’s this group of people on this mountain and part of them came home to me with my husband and my daughter.

These reminders are so good for me. In hard times and horrific things, part of moving on is hope and part of healing is thinking beyond me and looking at the people in my neighborhood or across the globe who do things differently or don’t have some of the things I have.

Gratitude and giving and reaching out to help where I can. It is life-healing and life-changing. It can feel like a drop in the bucket. BUT IT MATTERS TO THAT ONE PERSON OR TO THOSE TEN PEOPLE OR TO THE HUNDRED whom it touches. Let’s not let Satan pull that blindfold on us that says that it DOESN’T matter, because, dear friends, IT DOES.

When I’m tempted to fall apart, I want to try to remember to use that energy to stop and pray for those people tucked into the side of that mountain. Because chicken legs and buckets of water. Because………..

HAITI.

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