I’m reading a book about Mother Teresa. Which has been great, because we’ve all grown up hearing about her, so it’s been great to read the truth about her life. Anyway, I thought about her specifically while drilling this last well. One thing was as she become more well known, more and more people wanted to support and help her. Which, is a beautiful thing. But she was always on the look out, wanting to guard her heart so that what she was doing was always an outpouring of the Lord, and didn’t turn into a ‘job’. I get that. Because when you live and serve full time in ministry, it can become and sometimes feel like a job. I am sure many people who have worked or are serving in ministry currently know exactly what I’m talking about. And so, I don’t want to get to the point where what I do feels more like work, a job, rather than ministry. Sharing the love of Jesus by bringing people oh so needed clean water can become just ‘what we do’. Work.

And as I thought about this while we drilled this well in Petit Mill, God was faithful in showing me something. While Brandon has the tough job of drilling and trying to find water, I usually get to simply hang out with people in the community. Sometimes this feels like more work than putting a hole in the ground! This time, this week, I realized one thing that I sometimes forget. Because I’m not on the drill rig I get to meet people. I chat with them, teach their children, talk candidly, visit their homes, play with the kids…which means I get to meet the people that are going to be receiving clean water. I get to meet and see the lives that will be changed because they now have clean water, readily accessible to them. God graciously allows me this glimpse to see what He is up to, to see Himself get glorified in the process. It helps remind me why we are here, it makes what we do feel like an outpouring of the love, rather than just a job.

And another thing I noticed that reminded me of Mother Teresa, was that she saw and experienced something in India and all around that world, that we too have seen and experienced in Haiti. It’s something of a phenomenon, something I have yet to understand and fully grasp, three years into this. In fact, I blogged about it when we first moved here, and it’s still something that I can’t figure out.

She says it best in her book, as she is talking about seeing miracles every single day. “Those who shared in the work were frequently witnesses to the manner in which the needs of the poor were mysteriously met, despite their own limitations and the apparent lack of means.”

I saw this, again last week, as I often do. While the boys do boyish man things like drilling, some of us ladies opt for other activities. One such thing is visiting homes in the community. I know I’ve talked about this often, but it really is a precious thing. Each time we go, I feel like I learn something new and different. Or rather, God is trying to show and teach me something new and fresh, something He knows I need to see and experience-perhaps for the first time, or again because I have forgotten.

I don’t know how to explain so many things in Haiti, and one of them being how people live and actually survive. Just like Mother Teresa said, it is a miracle. When I look through my human eyes, with reasoning and logic, things just don’t add up. Such was the case in many of the homes in this community. One such house was this adorable little pink house. It was about double the size my playhouse/doll house growing up. That thought really got me thinking. And an entire family of eight lived in it. They of course had no power, running water, toilet. They had a few chickens, turkeys and dogs running around. There were mango trees all around, and another type of nut tree.The father said he had a garden.

And eight people live off that.

Do you hear my words? Can you understand what I am saying? Because I don’t. I don’t understand how they are all alive. I don’t understand how they make it each and every day.

Then the Lord gently reminds me, that He is the Lord. He is the Lord. He is the Creator. HE knows. He sees them, cares for them, loves them, and takes care of them in a most supernatural way. It is a miracle. A modern day, see with my very own eyes, I can’t understand how that happens, amazing miracle. I guess that is the definition of miracle after all. I realize it might sound strange, but seeing a miracle like that is amazing- but also hard. Because while they are indeed cared for, so intimately and divinely, it still breaks my heart to see them struggle, barely eek by. But there are miracles happening every single day, all around me. And that is the point. I can choose to see them, or I can see things in the negative, in my flesh. He provides moments that allow me to change my attitude, my perspective, and for that I am so thankful.

Brandon surfed in Haiti. This is a monumental thing that I need to document. It has only happened twice now. First time? We saw waves that he might actually be able to surf, and was so overcome with joy and childlike giddiness, that he chose to ignore what looked like tons of sea urchins thinking he could skim right over them, but in fact, he did not. His souvenir for his first time surfing in Haiti? About 25 black dots stuck in his feet, and about 10 in his hands. It was just plain sad. I feel terrible, and I’m not even personally the one being thwarted! Yes I am the wife, who for our entire dating and married life, has followed him on many wild goose chases down bumpy, wild, and tiny roads to just the possibility of surf. Some trips are short, more often they are hours, following the faint notion or hope that surf may be at the final destination.

But either way I really can’t complain. If there is no surf? We hang out at a great deserted beach. If on the slight off chance there is surf, he is off to spend hours alone enjoying God’s creation the best way he knows how. And and I am,well, still on a beautiful beach.

So when we went to the beach last week with Brent and Letitia, even though the waves weren’t great, or really even good, it was satisfying to see him out doing what he loves. And I think we both let out a deep sigh… all is well and normal with the world again…Brandon is surfing and I’m enjoying the beach.