Dry Heave

When I left Texas for Haiti the first time I remember sitting in our Haiti house trying to post pictures of our good-byes and do a little writing to catch up.  It was difficult to write about the last days in America while I sat in Haiti.  Maybe one day I'll be able to explain why there was so much turmoil in my soul as my body was in Port-au-Prince and my mind was traveling across the ocean to remember our final days in the U.S.

All I know is that it was hard.  Or maybe odd.  It is a bother for me to pick out the right words to use.

When I'm in Haiti it's strange for me to think about life in the U.S.  It's hard to believe that this country is real with its organized streets and sparkly grocery stores.  I know America is real, but I have to force myself to believe it.  When I'm in the United States something strange and a little gloomy goes on in my soul when someone asks me about Haiti.  What's it like there?  I have a hard time answering.  As I sit eating chips and salsa in a beautiful restaurant with a room full of clean, shiny, well-dressed, soap-smelling people and try to think of our life in Haiti everything seems foggy...like a dream.  Is it real?  I struggle to remember with any clarity what life is like in Haiti.  Is this what crazy feels like?

When I'm in Haiti I wonder if America is real.  When I'm in the United States I wonder how Haiti can be real.  When I'm in one place the other place seems like a movie I saw when I was a little girl.

Odd.  Weird.

Even though I can't explain how scrambled being here and thinking of there or being there and thinking of here makes my brain, I've decided I'm going to try my best to seal up our stay in the States...to get it all out before I get to Haiti...to tuck it in tight and tell this place good-night and good-bye.  No getting to Haiti and writing about the last few days here.  I'm going to spare my soul.

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What do you get kids for Christmas who already have more than they need?  Well, we opted for nothing. My sister-in-law and I decided that we're through buying gifts for cousins.  Instead, we want to give memories.  We want to do something together.  Something fun.

That sounded like a swell idea until the stomach virus and flu did a double whammy on our households.  We could have stayed home.  We could have caved and declared we'd give gifts one last year.  That would have been nice and responsible of us.  Instead we decided to be "those people" and take our sick kids to Horseshoe Junction for unlimited go-cart riding, rock climbing, bowling, and laser tag.

Who takes their sick kids to restaurants, family member's homes, to church, and to unlimited attraction land?  I used to be that person who asked that question with total disgust.  Now I'm that person who has to apologize to the cities of Houston, College Station, and Brenham.  If you get sick it might be our fault.  We're incredibly sorry.

"Give memories" sounds really sweet.  In my imagination all the memories were going to be warm and Norman Rockwellish.  In reality the kids were all a little sick, fussy, and it felt like it was five below outside (so I was right on the verge of throwing a fit as well).  We had a scene like the one in Cinderella when the clock strikes twelve.  It was obvious when all the drugs we gave the kids began to wear off.  We had to sort of laugh at the meltdowns and popcorn throwing, but all in all...I would vote for memories again next year!

      Hudson spent his last day on the farm secretly putting mascara on his cousin.  

Gosh.  I'm so glad she still has two eyes.

The rest of the cousins...well...they swam in the hay bales one last time.

Aaron and I spent our last day doing final weight counts on all the bags.  Aaron could probably pick anything up right now and tell you how much it weighs.  He should work at the carnival.

As I cleaned up today I couldn't stop thanking God for how restful our time in the States has been. We spent two weeks in my favorite house with some of my favorite people right across the driveway.  As weird as our life is, I'm so thankful for how intimate and intentional our time here gets to be. Our friends and family have been a breath of fresh air.

We are eager to get back to Haiti.  At different points of our stay in the States, all three of the oldest boys have said something like, "I love it in America, but I am glad we're going back to Haiti."  Just about every week I hear that sly snake whisper things like, "You're ruining their lives" into my ear.  Sometimes I believe him. Hearing our kids say they want to get back to Haiti brought tears to my eyes.

We are rested up and ready to be back in the country we love.

Tomorrow night we sleep under mosquito nets!