Little Did I Know

October 16, 2000
Looking back over the well worn pages in my journal I have to laugh.
I am cringing a bit at what I have written.
I have only one redeeming thought in knowing we didn't all have on those matching t-shirts that scream newbie.
My redemption fades quickly however as I am reminded of our thrift store broom stick skirts and fanny packs.
Oh, and let's not forget to mention I had a a huge cold sore right in the middle of my top lip.
I looked like I had a disease.

Having not read the words on these pages for years, I find it interesting that I had the ability "to see" a few striking things.
Now knowing and being the first person to admit, I had no clue, none!

The faces of the Haitian people are first on the list of things that stood out to me.
Each it's own story.
It is an uncomfortable story.
Yet, there is a beauty I have never seen in a white persons face.
Is it the beauty in the blackness and deeply chiseled cheek bones?
Or is it all the deep lines that cause you to get stuck?
These lines are different then the lines of their cheek bones.
They have been worn deeply on their face year after year.
Maybe it's the lifeless eyes that are asking for help.
No matter what it is they are all now talking so loudly you can't hear yourself think.
Well, think rationally anyway.
It is your own nervousness and discomfort that cause you to look away.
You are arguing with yourself and God all at the same time, thinking now might be a good time to get back on the plane and go home before too much more damage has been done to your emotional well being.
There is, at this point, some well being left, or so you think.

It was now clear that by the end of two weeks I would not be the same person.
Little did I know what that was really going to look like.
I often think, if I would have know then what I know now would I have really gone on this trip.
With out a doubt, the answer is...yes.

The Jumping Off Place

Several years ago we had the opportunity to hear John Wimber speak.
He talked about a swimming pool and the Lord telling him to jump.
The argument began in his mind about needing to see the water first and the Lord saying, no, jump and it will be there.

I have lost track of the number of times this has been true in my life.
But, this is the very place I am at again, the jumping off place.

For ten years I have been collecting stories in the back of my head thinking, some day I will have time to write them down.
I don't know if the day will ever really come that I have a ton of extra time on my hands, but I think I am finally at a place to collect the stories floating around and make room for other things.
Some stories are really crazy, some sad and some life changing.
Yet, each one is mine and has been shared with some pretty amazing people along the way.

I am pretty sure when Ruth's husband died she wasn't thinking, hey, this falls right in place with my destiny.
After all this was a forced transition in her life.
I know she loved her mother-in-la but she was picking up every one's left overs in order to have provision for her daily needs.
But, it was working, she was finding all that she needed.

I get her life.
Truthfully, I love her story and have spent a great deal of time in her little book.
Her destiny showed up in the most unconventional way.
A foreigner collecting remnants in a field.
A covenant made with a sandal.
Sleeping at the feet of a guy in order to seal her fate and learn her identity.
I am sure it never crossed her mind that she would some day be in the lineage of a Savior.

For the first few years, getting to Haiti was tricky, the only way I got there was to have a garage sale.
A garages sale with other peoples stuff that they would donate to us.
We would fill the garage, sort it, fold it and sell it.
None of it ever seemed as spiritual as gleaning the fields but it was the exact same thing.
God was proving for us to walk out the steps he had ordered for us.
Without fail it worked every single time.
I never come home with money in my pocket but everything we needed was taken care of.

Was there a Boaz asking, who are you?
Sure, it was a time of learning who I was and what I was called to do.
Was there a baby? Lots of them.
A Naomi, yes and no depending on how you look at her role in the story.
Did it make any sense to me? No, none of it.

Looking back over those years of sorting (gleaning) I never had to buy much in the way of clothes for my children or myself because so many things came through donations for garage sales.
Another provision.
We were a young family, three children, one income and the Lord was making a way for us to take baby steps toward the bigger picture.
We had no clue there was a sewing school to come or that we would be living in Haiti full time someday.
I just knew I had a deep passion for what I had seen, yet it took several years for us to figure out exactly what we really wanted to do.
What was God saying?
Let's just say we were not one of those families that makes one trip, sells everything so they can return to their calling a month later.
No, much like Ruth and John Wimber we have made many steps in life at that jumping off place hoping for water, relieved to find it there.
In no way have we got it all figured out.
Jumping at times now feels more like an adventure and we don't have to hold our breath as much.

So, I hope that you will enjoy some of my short stories as I begin to move them from one file to antoher.
I hope that you will see the common thread of the Lord's faithfullness and His great humor.

Jumping....

Thankfulness

Thanksgiving.
I always think it's good to be after Halloween.
In my mind it seems to get rid of the confusion we have over just what the heck is going on with Halloween.
It's purpose is clear, we are to be thankful.
Christmas gets twisted with spending too much money and the birth of Jesus.
The whole point gets lost.
Not so with Thanksgiving, it's simple and straight forward.
We look at our lives, acknowledging what we are thankful and spend time with our family.
The down fall is too much thankfulness when it comes to all the food we eat.

So, it seems to me, thanksgiving and thankfulness are a condition of the heart.
We finally get it, understanding we are blessed beyond measure.
Lacking in nothing.

We are thankful for family, friends and the goodness of God that we have seen, felt, heard and experienced this year.

Happy Thanksgiving!

Happy Birthday Parker

Happy Birthday Parker Hughes Lynch - Number 11

Eleven years ago today, I was laying in Northside Hospital.
I was in labor, Dan was in North Carolina, trying to get a flight back to Atlanta.
I was hopeful, yet unsure with all of the holiday travel.
When he finally did get to the hospital, the room was empty, so he thought.
I was sitting in tub dealing with the pains of labor.

Not to worry, he had plenty of time, he even took a nap.
Parker would be born that day and we would spend Thanksgiving in the hospital.

Sunday

He was a contemporary of Smith Wigglesworth, he was from another era.
His words were a gift.
They were powerful, sometimes light hearted, yet relevant for today and life changing.
At the time, I was thinking, he was a neat old guy and I loved his stories.

He said,"...every time you walk away from the bar the price goes up".
I have pictured a high jumper in the Olympics giving it his all only to go higher at his next attempt, an alcoholic sneaking into a bar thinking he would just have one drink, never thinking about the consequences.
I even imagined a play for a youth group, it is simple enough, an old fashioned ice cream shop transforms into a seedy biker bar as a young, hopeful, teenager turns into an old, lost, biker guy with no family to speak of, starting a fight every time someone confronts him with the truth and the choices he made for his life.

For many, it seems, they do "just" walk away without consequence.
Yet, I have watched different situations play out in my life, the church, in politics and when the price goes up, it goes way up and is very painful.
But, pricey for who, those playing or those never knowing they are part of a game.
It isn't always clear to me that those in charge really ever care or are held accountable.
However, the Lord clearly says we will all give an account for our actions.

In Haiti's case, the price has gotten pretty high these days.
The game is being played harder and those on the sidelines are paying the price with their lives.


It was a Sunday afternoon, we had gone to church, finished lunch and would take a visiting team to "see" Haiti before the work week began.
I have been downtown hundreds of times and still go every chance I can when it comes to taking pictures.
It amazes me that after ten years, I still see something new every time I go.
At a certain point in the drive you leave what you know to be real and drive into a time wrap in a really bad dream.
The atmosphere changes, the people change and soon a weight is strapped to you.
You become numb, you are unaware of the changes in your emotions, nothing fits in your mind.
Pretty soon you are watching and not reacting.
Even the smell that took your breath away in the beginning has tamed itself.
You think you are processing what you see, but there is a level of poverty that you have only read about or seen on television.
A battle with God begins in your mind that you are not aware of.
Everything you believe, find value in and think you need is being challenged.
You shut down, you can't take any more in, your done.

As you drive out of the Port, you become aware something insidious has happened.
You are wondering what just happened.
How could that have been real?
You didn't give your permission, but you lost something while you went sight seeing.
You being to wonder if it was a good trip? You are not sure?
You are emotionally, spiritually and physically exhausted.

In my reflection, something stuck out for me.
The mentally ill.
It felt like a line had finally been crossed for the fragile, those who walked a fine line.
The price had become to high.
Never had I seen so many clearly mentally ill people in Haiti.
Life had become so hard that those who normally would be living in one of Haiti's tight knit family communities, had fallen through the cracks.

For me, it was Sunday, a day of rest.
Now, in yet another way, the price had become too high for me as well.
Again, understanding doing nothing was not an option, needing to rest in Him and what I was called to do in Haiti.

Running

He was running.
He may have been the Papa.
Maybe she was maybe two, dressed in fuchsia.
Her body lifeless.
He was running.
His arms full.
She was a rag doll.
Beth could see him in the rear view mirror.
He would pass us soon as we sat in traffic.
We pulled over on the side of the road to offer help.
As he got closer we could see he kept looking for signs of life.
He turned, running in the opposite direction before he got to us.
We could say nothing, offer nothing.
Where was he going, there was no hospital that way?
Just like that, in your mind, no way to process what was happening.
Gone from our sight, not from our minds.

Haiti and Hurricanes

Before I left for Haiti I heard a report on the news stating, "everyone in tent cities should move".
I wondered just where they wanted them to go.
It is true that many who live in the tent cities have houses, but are fearful to sleep in them.
They return during the day, but sleep in the tents at night.

Another article I read said, "They're very entrenched here," and many worry about losing their possessions.

For days the tension built, fear was spreading on the streets as everyone listened to the radio.
Prayer requests went out from everywhere asking God to intervene.
The rain came, the wind came.
It was not good for anyone living in a tent.
Late Thursday, we did a medical transport for a young mom needing a c-section, knowing that if she had any kind of complications during the storm it could be a life and death situation.
When we finally got home we thought about an emergency grocery store run, too late.
It did take me awhile to fall asleep, feeling the guilt of laying in a bed with four pillows and a fan.
The ceiling did leak, I rolled over onto the other side of bed, thanking the Lord for a bed and a roof.
One report said, 100 miles one way or the other could have made this situation horrible for Haiti.
He said, in the terms of the space we are talking about, one hundred miles is really like a hair.
It reminded me that the hairs of my head are numbered.
For this I am thankful.
The next morning, as I drank my coffee, rain still pouring down.
I heard these words singing on my computer...
"He is jealous for me, loves like a hurricane, I am tree bending bending beneath the weight of his wind and mercy."
The words, they seemed different to me.
My life and time here felt different to me.