Daughter

I recently spent a week in Haiti with my daughter Elena, age 15, and other youth.  After over a dozen trips of leaving my kids home, it made this one unique.

Raw pride swelled at seeing my child and others embrace and relate to people of different culture, language and skin color than their own.

I was overwhelmed with joy seeing Elena lead our team sing-alongs with enthusiasm on the tambourine.

I felt disoriented watching over our team serve and being momentarily surprised to see my daughter in their midst.

I was comforted when Elena tenderly cared for my when I was ill.

Few people return from Haiti and make instant radical life choices. More commonly, a mission trip, a week of wading through God’s grace and mercy, results in subtle shifts. A fresh perspective in daily decisions, leaning into meaningful relationships, longing to spend more time in God’s presence, Holy discontent with human suffering, deeper empathy, a more open heart, a sharper ear for the whispering of the Holy Spirit, yearning for justice and mercy, and a deeper appreciation of our human frailties and God’s mighty power.

Many ask “How was your trip?” I watch Elena struggle to answer. “I held a sweet baby who shared my name…. It was hot and intense…. It was raw.”

Words are inadequate, experiences too profound.

So I end with hope. Hope that Elena and the others joined in mission, who witnessed profound injustice and suffering, use that knowledge for good. To pray, to witness, and to lead by example. We all have the gifts needed to tell the story, little by little, again and again. We choose daily to act in love. When words and our human limitations fail us, we invite others to share in our journey and to hold us accountable. If not Haiti, then in Falcon Heights, Dallas, anywhere humanity is crying out in our bountiful and broken world.

Peace

Joyce