Five years ago, my five kids and I spent our last day in Haiti.
After almost eight years of ministry, after nine years of attempting (unsucessfully) to adopt our three Haitian children, we faced the devastation of the Port-au-Prince earthquake, and we faced our own figurative parting of the Red Sea.
A sleepless night preceded this day — seven hours in a bus, traversing the mountains between Cap and Port. Another sleepless night awaited us — eight hours in Miami’s Immigration office.
This was the day we sat alongside Port-au-Prince’s runway, avoiding the structural damage inside the airport. The day Jarod shipped relief supplies from the Dominican Republic, praying we’d make the flight out. The day we conserved precious bottled water, ate hotdogs straight out of plastic packaging, waiting, waiting, waiting for our plane to the U.S. It was the one-way chartered flight that would take Justin, Jaden, and Daphne out of Haiti for the first time in their lives. The flight we almost missed despite all our waiting.
Honestly, it was one of the most grueling days of my life.
But God was faithful that day.
As He is today. To me… and to you.
This day, or this season, might be your hardest ever. If it is, I pray you find strength and encouragement from the lessons I’ve learned since that day five years ago.
Despite my cynicism, God is still able to do “immeasurably more than all we ask or imagine”
Though we pleaded for adoption approval for nine years, our efforts were thwarted in every way imaginable… Until an earthquake cut through the 500 remaining steps.
He is able. If the answer you’re receiving today is a “no,” it’s not because God doesn’t care or can’t help.
When the time is right, He will work miraculously. He’ll out-do your wildest imaginations.
Safety isn’t about location… it’s about being in God’s hands.
Robberies, coups, a special needs child, and cross-cultural stresses… it wasn’t “safe.” Furthermore, it led to adrenal fatigue. Panic. Anxiety.
But tempting as it was to believe the U.S. was my safe house, that flight out of Haiti didn’t erase my fear.
The truth is, God was and will always be my rock and my fortress… He protected me in Haiti in the face of overt physical danger, as well as in the U.S. where the fear came from within.
His mercies have been new every morning, regardless of my location. It’s not about where. It’s about Who.
My identity isn’t my occupation… it’s found in Christ.
Once my husband and I realized we would not be able to take our children back to Haiti, our titles changed. We’d assumed we’d been called to a lifetime of missions, but everything had changed. And in the deep corners of my heart, that hurt. My lifelong dream of missionary was no more. Now I was (forgive me) ordinary.
Jesus knew I needed to find myself and all that defined me in Him instead of some role of “honor.”
It was humbling. And it was for my good.
Being unknown is difficult… but increases my dependency on Christ.
We made a cross-country move after shifting around for a year and one-half. The familiarity of Kansas gave way to Florida shores where we were completely unknown. New jobs, new schools, a new church, a new calling.
Again I found myself low. No one here even knew that I used to be a missionary. No one knew our gifts, our passions, our history.
So I had to leave all of that with Jesus. He knew. And that was enough. Because it’s not about me anyway. It’s all about Him.
I might not understand God’s ways… but they are higher and better (Isaiah 55:9).
I still don’t know why God didn’t allow our kids to be adopted earlier. Why did we have to leave them in Haiti during the political coup… when we traveled to the U.S. for medical tests… when their little sister got to be a flower girl at a family wedding?
Why nine years? Why after the earthquake?
I don’t have all the answers.
I can speculate… maybe we’d have jumped ship too early if the adoptions had been done. Maybe we wouldn’t have stayed to minister. Maybe Jarod wouldn’t have been there to deliver relief supplies. Maybe something we did had an impact we still don’t know about.
Or maybe it was about God changing us, testing us, making us.
I don’t know why. I don’t understand His ways.
But I can truthfully say I am grateful.
I’m grateful for the “hard.”
I’m grateful for the challenge… for the storms… for the pain.
Because I got to see Him.
He shines in the darkness. He protects when there’s danger. He heals when there is hurt. And He works miracles when all hope is gone.
My prayer for you today? That you would give thanks in all things. That you would trust Him. That your faith would grow right now on the most grueling day. That you would continue to stand on Christ, The Solid Rock.