Fighting through dust and cobwebs

Hey everyone (those that have stuck around, that is...)!

I have no clue what I'm going to write about but I'm going to start with an apology. I'm sorry to my readers for leaving you hanging. For a while I was truly busy - wrapping up the semester, studying for and taking finals, and trying to sort out the life that awaits me only a mere semester away. However I can't create excuses. After a while I was in a full blown bloggy slump. How was I supposed to come back after almost a full month of absense with witty words, deep thoughts, and legitimate reasons for temporarily abandoning my blog?

 I treasure the fact that even a handful of people decide to take the time to read the thoughts, feelings, and even the nonsensicle ramblings in my blog. While blogging isn't a priority or "calling" in my life I truly enjoy sharing my two cents and letting the words of my heart enter the big bad world of the internet. So sorry...and thank you to those of you who stuck around!

I'm not going to summarize all that has happened this past month. It's too much of a whirlwind. I'll spare you. However, I will say that there is a small island only a few hundred miles from where I live that has a story to share. There are two countries that share this island, small though it may be. I'll give you a hint, the eastern country is the Dominican Republic. On the west end of the island, though, is a smaller country nestled in the bright aqua blue colors of the Carribbean. A tropical paridise.

Look up and all around and you'll see mountains beyond mountains.You'll see some greens and browns and you'll likely catch a few glimpses of reds and organges as trucks and busses fly by. Unable to take it all in by sight, you breathe in deeply. It smells of salty air, new and delightful spices, and a pinch of sweat. You start to smile and open your ears to listen. You hear a rapidly spoken language, neighbors greeting eachother and mothers calling to their children. You can't understand it but it's beautiful. There are children singing from down the street. You've never heard the tune before but the melody is greeting you like an old friend. You shake hands with an old man with greying hair and sun wrinkled skin. His wise eyes and toughened hands pull you deeper still.

Without language he tells you the story of his country. His eyes have seen pain, suffering, and death. His body shows the wear of hunger and malnutrition. His hands are rough from countless years of working in his garden. The green and brown  mountains are his home, out of which he coaxes what little crops he has to grow. The sea, to him, is not blue and beautiful, it is where he catches tiny fish when he can't harvest his garden. The orange and blue trucks are not blurs of beautify - they are machines that take his money, bang him around, and hopefully drop him off at the market to sell and buy what little he can. In a span of seconds this old man shows you that this is not paradise to him. Rather, paradise is waiting for him in Heaven. He knows God and accepts Jesus as his savior. He has hope to one day be freed from the oppression he has faced in paradise.

That, to me, is greater than any sight, smell, or sound.

Sick

Today I have a cold. Yes, a cold.

I've spent the day sitting around my apartment being lazy - watching TV, poking around on the internet, and texting friends. I was thinking about how great it is that its a Saturday and I don't have to worry about dragging my snotty self to class...or anywhere, really. How awesome is it that I have no huge exams to study for and that I can truly rest.

BUT...how is that I can be grateful for these things and not even think about everything else that I'm taking for granted?!? I have a TV, internet, food in the fridge, a comfortable bed, a secure apartment, and cold medicine. I can take a day (or more) to chill comfortably when others can't. There are people in the world who are fighting to survive. There are people out there who have colds (or cholera or tuberculosis, or HIV, or malaria...) yet can't sit at home and chill. They have to fight to find work, earn money, feed themselves, you know, survive.

Basically, I'm selfish. And a weenie. How is this right?

Operation Christmas Child

Have you guys ever heard of Operation Christmas Child? I'm 95% sure you have. I've heard of it again and again, year after year. I've never participated before. I never really thought about poverty, 3rd world countries, or really anything besides myself until I came to college. Then in college I've justified my lack of giving by being a "poor college kid." This year when it was announced in church something stirred in my heart. I knew that I was going to fill a box this year. I realized that while I may be poor by America's standards, I'm still filthy rich in the standards of the world. (And beyond material possessions, I've also been made spiritually rich by the blood of the Lamb who was slain!!!)

So I went shopping. I decided to consider prices as I went but not make them a deciding factor on any particular item/type of item. I work two jobs, I can afford rent, I am able to buy food for myself, I even splurge on items every once and a while. I HAVE ROOM TO GIVE!!!

I decided on putting together a box for a 10-14 year old girl. RoseLaure, my sweet sponsored child, is 14. While I know she won't be getting my box...or possibly any box for that matter...it was easier for me to buy things I knew she liked, needs, and would fit into. Plus, I figured other people like to buy cute baby things and little kid toys. They've got those age ranges covered. I hope.

This is what I bought: A pink skirt, a purple butterfly shirt, three boxes of candies, two toothbrushes, toothpaste, a bar of soap, two wash cloths, cute girly pencils, a pencil sharpener, markers, a pad of drawing paper, and a paddle ball.

I had every intention of going back out and getting some more things - a jump rope, a stuffed animal, and other miscellaneous fun things. Unfortunately, as I packed the things I had bought from my first shopping trip I soon realized the box was out of space. I was really sad I couldn't put more in it but I'm glad I was able to fit what I did already have.

Next, you're supposed to wrap your box. It's not a requirement but it just makes it a little more Christmassy. I, however, don't own wrapping paper. I have a few miscellaneous birthday gift bags but those, clearly, would not do! So I had to be creative.

What college girl doesn't own puffy paint? I decided to puffy paint the lid. I hope the girl who receives this box likes it! Bondye beni ou means God bless you in Creole.

This side says Fete Nwel or Merry Christmas in Creole.

So I turned my box in at the church office and we prayed over them as a congregation this past Sunday. As a church we collected over 230 boxes! They're all going to Haiti! This makes my heart joyous and I hope it makes the kids joyous!!!

RoseLaure

Have you, my loving readers, noticed the picture I have placed on my sidebar - M'renmen RoseLaure? If you havent, look to the right side of the screen. Smile. This is RoseLaure (and me). She is the sweet and wonderful girl whom I sponsor through RMI.

I cower from being one of those middle class Americans. So many people see those heartwrenching comercials, send in some money, and think they're justified in ignoring the rest of the poverty and problems.

Anyway, I sponsor RoseLaure. She's my girl. I met her when I was in Baraderes, Haiti in May. She is one of the "orphan" children who lives in the pastor's house. I say orphan in quotes because most Haitian orphans, in my experience, are not actually orphans. Most of them have parents, or at least aunts and uncles. The problem lies in the fact that the parents cannot afford to care for them.

Wow, I feel like I keep typing myself down rabbit holes. Sorry for that.

I met RoseLaure while I was living in the pastor's house for a few days. She is quiet and shy but she has a smile that shines as bright as the sun. I was in love. My first interaction with her, the pastor was trying to get us to guess her age. She's small and petite. I figured she couldn't be over the age of 10. Wrong. She's 14. I couldn't imagine the life she had lived that made her not grow. Every once and a while I'd run into her in the house. We didn't get much of a chance to interact because she was busy doing chores.




RoseLaure talking to one of the missionaries.




We got to meet all of the children who live in the pastor's house.
And they enjoyed a couple hours off from doing chores.




We were able to give these children a little baggie of gifts.
They each got mints, jolly ranchers, pencils, a pencil sharpener, and some small toys.



We saw her in the clinic briefly. Then one afternoon she was hanging out with her friends who live in the pastor's house with her. I was walking by the river and stopped to chat with them. This was one of my favorite parts of the trip.



"Hang out" time by the river. RoseLaure is on the right.




She's so adorable, don't ya think?



This picture makes me laugh. RoseLaure was so excited that her toothpaste made it into the picture.

It was bittersweet to leave Baraderes, especially because it would mean leaving a piece of my heart behind. Oh and yes, that is a barbie dress. At 14. And she doesn't care. That wouldn't happen here in the States.

When I came home from that trip I was moved to do something. I sent in my money (done through church because my church works closely with RMI) and requested RoseLaure. I knew it was unlikely that I actually got her but I could hope and pray. When it came time to pick up our sponsorship packets, I saw her face and I jumped up and down and squealed with joy!

I love being able to support her financially and help her in what small ways I can. I love being able to pray for her. I love being able to tell people about her. I love seeing a picture of her face pop up on my phone's background. I love her. I love her people. I love her country. So much love. I'm so glad that God's love for me is leading me to love so deeply that it overflows to RoseLaure. I'm so thankful for the mere opportunity to know this girl and love her.

Do you sponsor any children? Who do you sponsor them through? Have you met them? Do you love them?