06 January 2014

Looking over my shoulder

Re-reading my last post, I feel I should make something clear--I am glad to be home. I've missed the United States, with its smooth roads and 24/7 power and beautiful parks and sidewalks. And having the family I adore practically next door? Amazing. I admit to still being a little unclear on a few recent developments...for instance, there's a fox who speaks but no one seems to know what he's saying...and what are chia seeds and why are we putting them on everything? But being back is good. I can see in a unique way all the growth that's happened in the church while I was gone, and it's encouraging.

The painful part of furlough is when people welcome me home. It's well-meant, and I understand that. My head understands it. But my heart softly says, "This is just one home. One of two." I'm a house divided, you see. A sort of permanent brokenness to my life that I've come to accept, but which never gets easier. When I'm in Haiti, I miss the U.S. When I'm in the U.S., I miss Haiti. And I never miss it more than when something goes wrong...

I don't know his name, but he watched my house. From the shadows, he waited until the power was off to make his move. He parted the razor wire with a stick, hopped the wall, barefooted, silently landing on my dusty tile balcony. 

He carefully removed my windowpanes. He cut my screens open. He pulled out a laptop, hard drives, Internet box, router. He disappeared.

Are you looking over your shoulder? When something goes bump in the night, when the dog starts barking...do you peek through the curtains or roll over? Is there a baseball bat under your bed? 

On her way home from work, late at night, my house sitter D got on the wrong motorcycle with someone she didn't know. They deceived her; she thought he was trustworthy. But after the third wrong turn, when he stopped and more men came out of the shadows, she suddenly knew what was happening. All she lost was her wallet and purse, but they wanted more. They shot her in the leg as she tried to get away, and she dragged herself back to the restaurant to get help.

"Helen Keller said security is mostly a superstition," I reminded David last week while walking through an affluent neighborhood, looking at their driveway gates and alarm systems. I had no idea, of course, that this belief would be put to the test when my house was broken into and D assaulted. "Do you feel safe in Haiti?" Another question that hurts a little. I want to say yes, I want to reassure you that the media blows things out of proportion. Most of the time? Yes, I feel safe in Haiti. When this happens? No, I don't.

Do you look over your shoulder? Do you know who to trust?

Jesus gave the ministry's moneybox to a thief. He washed the feet of men who would later deny knowing him, let alone being his best friends. He healed the crowds who would spit on him and scream, "Let his blood be on us and on our children! Give us Barabbas!" Yes, he knew who to trust--and it wasn't any of them.

Who's looking over my shoulder? Who do I really trust?

I could make my wall higher. I could install more razor wire. I could hire a security guard or buy a meaner dog. We may do some of these things, but it probably won't help. It's no accident that God had me studying trust this week in preparation for speaking at Women of Worth at Rolling Hills next week.

Trust isn't easy, but it's based on experience. And in my experience, God has always looked out for me. That's all I can say. Whether I feel safe or not, I'm in His capable hands, unsnatchable...even if I lose an internet box or router along the way.

Please pray for D--she's recovering well and has been released from the hospital. Pray for her to have confidence in the goodness of God despite it all. Pray for us as we try to figure out how to take care of our stuff since she can't stay at our house, and thank Him for the MAF neighbors who are filling the gap for us.

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