We come here to solve, and instead I end each day with a longer list of random bits from all over the place that I’d like to have answered.

Two things to wrestle with before I go to bed.

Why did Maxon get diagnosed with pneumonia today, the doctor telling me it was a result of getting the flu once, twice, possibly three or more times without being treated? Why is this boy who hasn’t been here for even two years of life yet spent what has probably been most of it with a fever, runny nose, and a cough that throws his body? Why did I sit on the back of a moto on the way back from Cabaret’s pharmacy thinking about how he reflects children all over Bercy, all over Haiti – who are sitting in the corner coughing? Whose runny noses are constantly causing dirt to stick to their faces as they sit with half of an outfit on and watch others with that open mouth and glazed eye look…or play halfheartedly? Why, and what is going to happen, to the thousands of children who are constantly sick – so different from the comfort and immediate doctor visits of where I grew up? Why are these children not being held, why is this so normal that children don’t get “sick day cuddles”? Why do parents run to the hospital pre-maturely in America while children here have serious diseases that don’t get checked out? Why, oh why, do I have to set him back down in the exact same dirt-covered, mosquito ridden, parasite ridden environment?

Don’t have answers for it. Thoughts, cultural insights after a few months of observation, room for hours of debate – but no answers tonight.

And then there’s those girls. The challenging teenage ones, standing by and waiting for me to come over so that they can ask me what I have for them before bothering to offer even a “Bonswa”. I saw one girl today who successfully asked me for a dozen different things in seeing me just four times. Not including the general “What did you bring for me?” A pretty good ratio – fitting at least three each time I was in the general area that she was. One of the frustrating things is that she isn’t someone I have a relationship with – she doesn’t care to know a thing about me. And here’s a cute touch: “Come here.” (After my questions of why, my response of no because I know the answer) “Come over here to talk to me.” (And when I give in – she’s called me over to where she is to ask me to buy ____ for her)

Here’s the thing: laying in our loft, staring up at the stars after a with a head swimming with …everything, something hit me. I am that girl. With my cocky attitude, no time to listen, and my hand out waiting. I am that girl, as God comes around the corner and I’m ready to ask – just ready to get something for me. Even with the best intentions, my prayers are about me. I have my days where I care a lot more about my plans than the one I’m going to. The relationship? I’ve got better things to do. We’ve talked three times, with about two dozen asks. I react the same as the girls do when I point out their lack of greeting – “Oh yeah, and hi. Thanks for my health. Sorry I used the little Kreyol I know to be sarcastic to that guy in market. Anyways…” And here’s my cute touch: “Come here. Let’s do things on my terms today. Give me this while I pursue this ‘for you’, okay?”

Don’t hear me beating myself up, and don’t think my realization was that I’m beyond hope. I’m covered by grace, thanks to his beautiful mercy, and I’m a work in progress each day. As I said in the last post, I’m being challenged to fall more in love with him (end goal is WORSHIP not WORKING). I have a relationship, and it’s not all asks. And I’m not asking for a new car, these are legitimate requests for Bercy and for people back home.

…but in comparison to the girl that’s been a real challenge for me the past week? I’m not as different as I’d like to think. On a scale of me (a breathe, a blade of grass, etc.) to GOD – I am that girl. He’s still patiently coming back around the corner, smiling when I learn to pause to listen to him before starting to talk about what I want. God, why all this patience with me? God, how is grace…..grace? God, why do you CHASE me when I’m me and you’re Creator of the Universe? God, why don’t you smack me with my attitude – Jesus, why did you step in? God, how do I stop thinking about myself? God, how do I learn to listen more in our relationship?

See what I’m talking about? More questions by the end of the day.


6 thoughts on “Questions.

  1. Must say I am glad you decided to blog, I do love to hear your words. Thanks for sharing and letting us live a piece of what you get to go through daily.

  2. He has decided to bless you and fill you with this self realization and questions. And it IS a blessing, because most of us go through the day thinking everything is just fine and that God should be celebrating US because we ARE his champions doing great things, right? Really? Doing great things? Compared to what? Compared to Acts? Thank you for passing on your blessing and for another reminder of how much we really need His Grace, love, and patience. I believe He is there, and I believe He even smiles a little bit at us as He shakes his head and thinks “what a mess”. Kind of like my own kids, who I love to death.

    1. So true – Life is so much more exhausting, challenging…I understand so less – but I’m learning so much. So much more rewarded in relationship with the same people that create so many questions. And more and more, I’m realizing just how self-centered I am, so many times the issue is that I look to myself for answers, or want to be comfortable, or I’m just plain selfish! Thank Him for being a patient Father & teacher.

  3. Steph, I thought the same thing about the kids when I was there and I do not have a clue a to what the answer is. This bothers me. Thanks for sharing your thoughts. They gave me a lot to think about.

    1. The beautiful – as hard as it is to wrestle with and accept as I am SO controlling – is that they’re HIS. They are His kids, He is ultimately in control, and while we walk in a situation where they have so little (of BASIC needs) and we have so much and “know so much”…He knows ALL, knew them before He stitched them together in their mothers womb, He knows every hair on their head and He is their Father. It’s still heart wrenching and emotionally exhausting, but really helps with the ‘answers’ or lack thereof when I remember I am His vessel – not the answer, the one who needs to solve it all, or even someone with any real control of the situation.

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