And then there was vomit...

We had an incredibly bumpy ride into Atlanta last night & it really hit poor Beebs. After everyone had dep-planed Beebe began to vomit. The flight attendants were awesome and all vomit was contained. Poor baby praised me for not vomiting myself!

So in one week I did vomit, diarrhea, and urine. There was more vomit in the airport.

For years I have said, "I ran a marathon. I can do anything." Now I am going with the vomit, diarrhea, exploding zits, urine makes me invincible.

Invincible until I re-entered my culture. It has been hard. All day I have thought of Felder, Michela, Hugo...... Once again, I want my heart to stay broken. Broken but maybe with hot water....

And then my heart broke....

The first day of sit popping, Angie the American missionary on staff asked me to help a nine year old girl named Michela who was embarrassed by the bumps on her face. I was nervous because unlike the little ones I knew she would realize I was hurting her and it would kill me but I agreed because Angie said she so wanted the bumps gone. I knew it must be killing her as molluscum take deep popping. She said not a word until I was done and then said "thank you" in perfect English and threw her arms around my waist. I burst into tears and kissed her and told her she was beautiful.

Last night when we were driving to our hotel Beebe said she was most concerned about a nine year old. She said her name was Michela. Beebe shared she did not love me loving on "my" baby Felder- the five month old the size of a newborn. She shared she had to know if Michela had an adoptive family. Carlee shared her birth mother would not sign off on adoption but her father had. Many tears followed. Michela has a four year old brother. So if seems hopeless as Michela knows all her friends have places to go, moms with means. She begs to be adopted. We held her today and said our goodbyes. I held Felder and held his nanny and thanked her.

I have never walked in poverty but I have now seen it. I have fallen for these children. I left every material possession I could in Haiti. But mostly I left a piece of my heart. And it hurts. I know I will return....don't know when but know I will. I don't want my heart fixed. I want it to stay broken so I never forget the Michelas and the Felders....

And I am telling you...I am not changing diapers in Haiti

I really have not minded leaky diapers until Melinda and I were the only nannies for fifteen 12-24 month olds. I had six or seven babies in lap, between legs, on legs, etc. their smiles and pure joy were enough to make you cry. I just could not stop smiling. Then the smell was a little overwhelming. Melinda bravely attacked the diapers. I say bravely because they are cloth with mainly Velcro for holding them in place. It became comical as one after another the babies' diapers would fall & they would just carry them around in their little fists. We quickly found pins.

What completely undid me was I realized this is how I am before my father- stinky, diarrhea running down & he is smiling & enjoying me. He hates I am dirty because it is uncomfortable for me & NOT good for ME. Along comes a fellow traveler who helps clean me up. I need fellow travelers. When I return, the smiling father loves me not more because I am clean, but loves me as much when I am dirty. He is just so happy I am in a more healthy state.

I am a zit popper. My girls run from me. Three of my girls had molluscum, a skin virus you can apply expensive cream to remove or you can pop the entire volume of small bumps out & virus leaves the body. I learned how to effectively do that. Several babies here had molluscum and I became the official dermatologist. Who knew that would come in handy?!?!?

We leave tomorrow. This place has changed me for good. (note two musical theater references in one blog) It will be sad. Our friend Carlee's baby is not fully legally her's and she will have to leave him. I knew that would be hard but now I know it will be full out gut-wrenching. I know angry girl & selfish girl will always realistically rage battle inside me but at least they got a view from the rubble and tent cities and an orphanage.

Wanderlust and oh the places you will go....

I started thinking about wanderlust and its meaning a few weeks ago. John Stroud and I began to make plans to attend the annual Wanderlust yoga/music festival in Colorado with several friends. No one batted an eye at me going but it has been fun to watch people react to John Stroud attending. :)

I looked up wanderlust. It means to long to wander or rove. It implies longing for a place you are not currently. Our church lost a dear member a few weeks ago and at his service everyone spoke of his knowing his final home and his longing to be there yet live like one who was secure in that home. He did that...well.

I had already made plans to go to Haiti when I attended that service. I wanted to go because baby girl so wanted to go and serve in this orphanage. I wanted to go because I wanted to bury angry girl in the piles of rubble. So here we are. In Haiti. Yesterday I was covered in urine & diarrhea as I held children. I don't do smells well. I vomit if my girls or dogs vomit. I didn't smell anything. I have been overcome. This place should be completely hopeless. But it is not. I am completely hopeless unless I long for the calling of my final home.

The other thing I have learned is I need to leave selfish girl here..in the rubble. Selfish girl loooooves her own space, time, DVR, iPad, tv show, books, wine. All in all, none are bad things. It is my longing for them and my resentment when I do not get them.

Just so you know....the rumors of me becoming missionary girl are greatly exaggerated. This is it for a while. I will probably come back to this place but not soon. I am thankful for the short time I have been called as I see a bigger picture...a bigger world...a bigger need for me to long...wander....wanderlust....