I sat on an airplane a few days ago overwhelmed with all that I had just experienced in a weeks time. I thought about going home and wondered how I would be able to tell people about all that I had seen and felt and discovered. I wondered if I should write a blog with a few funny stories, and few of the heart warming stories, or if I should just put up pictures with a short description, or if I should even write this blog.
To give you a good and accurate picture of what I experienced this last week I would need to be totally open and transparent; I would need to be honest about some pretty personal struggles. Not to mention it would be a pretty long blog. But as I have found myself standing in a grocery store overwhelmed with the abundance of food and provisions contained within its walls, sobbing, or standing in a church service realizing how true the songs I am singing really are, I decided to at least take a stab at this blog. So here it is. Its probably long, and may even make you raise your eyebrows, but its whats in my heart right now.
This past year I have struggled a lot with rejection and feeling unloved. I have had to figure out how to handle relationships that are also unloving and condemning, and through it I have struggled with anger at God for allowing people to do the things they do. If he truly loved us, why would he let us walk around with so much pain seeping from our broken hearts? Was He really even there aside from showing up when we screwed something up? The "godly" people in my life were really good about pointing out the wrong, but never God's love, and weren't they supposed to be the example of who Jesus is?
I came to a point where I felt like I had given up on God. I couldn't ever seem to do it right or do enough and I was exhausted and worn out. Oh I never said any of this. I went to church and sang the songs, and prayed the prayers before meals and "liked" all of the Christian Facebook pages; but I had given up on the perfect love and the illusive hope that went along with it.
Two weeks before we left for our trip to the Dominican Republic, Kevin and I attended a unique workshop of sorts for a week. It opened up our lives like a book and revealed our hurt places and our defensive places and our angry places. It also painted a clearer picture of who God really was and showed us lies that we had believed about Him and ourselves. We both walked away with a tiny seed of hope in our hearts that maybe the perfect and unconditional love was real; for us; even in our imperfect state and through all of our mistakes; even if the "godly" people told us we didn't deserve it yet.
Amazingly enough feeling loved makes you live an entirely different way! I wish some of the "godly" people would realize how much more motivating love is than condemnation!
Then it was time to leave on our trip. I didn't want to go. I didn't want to leave my kids and I didn't want to go with a bunch of people I didn't know to a place I wasn't familiar with to do things I was uncomfortable with.
I sobbed my way through airport security, and got on the plane feeling desperate to get off! All at once I was overwhelmed with incredible peace. I knew I was supposed to be on this trip, I knew my kids would be fine, and I knew God was waiting for me at some point in this unfamiliar week. Those first few days held many moments of feeling out of place, and even more moments of undeniable strength and peace from God.
On Monday we were headed to our second Child Development Center and our second home visit, where we got to go to a child's home and meet their family and hear a little bit about their lives. I had been to the Dominican Republic before, and I had experienced these home visits before, but the minute we walked up to this particular home, I knew something was different. My heart literally felt on the verge of breaking in half as I noticed two little feet sticking out from under a scrap of cloth. The baby was laying on a mattress caked with mud and God knows what else. The little toes immediately pulled at the mommy inside me. The baby was three months old!
The mother was the only adult present. She sat in a chair and never once interacted with any of the 5 children present. She quietly told the Compassion worker that was with us that she had a mental illness, and that one of her children had died; She had 7 more living.
The baby woke up and began looking around. The 8 year old boy jumped up on the bed to get her when he realized her eyes were open. She gave him the most precious grin I have ever seen and watched him the rest of the time we could see her. It was obvious that this was her main caregiver.
This home was in such disrepair that we couldn't even go in. The father came home and we stood around the front of the house under a big tree, as he explained that the few possessions they had had were sold to try and get money to help his wife. There was a little girl about 2 or 3 years old. She had only a dirty pair of shorts on. She climbed up on a plastic chair and laid down on it letting her head dangle over the edge. I couldn't resist reaching down and tickling her little brown tummy. She giggled. I melted.
We all moved closer to this family so we could pray over them. I scooped the little girl up. I don't know why I did; I had been cautious about doing this since some kids didn't seem to be comfortable with a lot of physical contact, and I the language barrier prevented me from asking her if I could hold her, but the need to hold her in my arms was too overpowering.
She seemed surprised when I held her close, but then she wrapped her little arms around me and laid her head on my shoulder. I couldn't concentrate on what people were praying, all I could do was bury my face in this little girls filthy hair and beg God to figure out a way to take her home with me; away from the filth; away from a mother who wasn't able to give her this affection; away from a hungry little tummy; away from a world where losing a sibling was painfully common.
The prayer ended and we were told it was time to go. The father called her Janel and said something to her in Spanish. Our translator looked choked up and just nodded when I asked him if she had just said she was coming with me. Two more times the father asked her if she was going with me and two more times she nodded her head.
Everyone was moving toward the bus and I knew it was time for me to put her down. When I sat her back on her chair, her little hands held onto my shoulder blades and her eyes stared into mine. She watched me all the way back to the bus and the minute I was safely in my seat, I lost it.
I sobbed and sobbed as we pulled away from this family who had stolen my heart in less than 20 minutes time.Our translator was also very emotional.
I cried until I thought I couldn't cry any more, and then I sobbed some more. I yelled silently at God, angry that he would allow this to happen to tiny innocent babies. Back at the project, it was time for us to go play with the children involved in the program but I stood off to the side and cried, unable to get a hold of my emotions. I am sure anyone who saw me thought I was a very crazy white lady!
As the day went on and I was finally able to interact with the kids, I kept asking why God didn't do something. Towards the end of the day, I felt very clearly that he was saying that he was; He had sent me there and now what was I going to do?
I cornered a staff member and began asking what we could do. I got information to be able to send a monetary family gift after we got home. I pushed and asked and made myself a nuisance until I was told that there might be a possibility of getting the little girl registered in the program and assigned to me to sponsor her.
That evening as we sat in a circle recounting our day with each other, I found myself again overcome with emotion. In that moment as I realized I had been struggling with the reality of God's love all day, I felt God once again impress something on my heart. Yes God had given that little girl the gift of my arms that day, but even more he had given me the gift of her arms!
We experienced even more in the coming days, but Janel was never far from my thoughts or my prayers. I felt overwhelmed by an amazingly powerful love when I thought of her, and I realized on the way home, this was God's love; it was real! She wasn't rejected or forgotten, I wasn't rejected or forgotten, God had an immense love for both of us. He saw both of our broken little hearts and he had a powerful plan for both of us that included endless and massive amounts of hope! Even more he had this same love and purpose for the people that had hurt us! It was there everywhere for everyone, it was awesome!
I am still dumfounded how I came out of that experience so aware of God's love! Normally it would have just been more proof that God doesn't care like I think he should, but that wasn't the case.
I have cried for Janel every day I have been home. I have prayed for her and smiled when I look at her picture and emailed the country staff several times asking if she has been registered yet. I am pretty sure they are getting ready to figure out how to block my email address. ;-)
I am so thankful for this sweet little life that intersected with mine. I got a chance to see sponsors meet their sponsored children, and I can't wait to go back and get to spend more time with her.
There were hundreds and hundreds of sponsored children that we got to see affected by the amazing work Compassion is doing. The kids in the centers had hope in their eyes!
Check out their website, Maybe you'll find your own little "Janel" that will touch you and remind you of God's awesome love!
Thank you God for not only looking out for Janel and for giving us a chance to help in their time of need, but also for using her to open my heart to your incredible all consuming love!!
