It was our team's last day in Haiti, and the general consensus was that we should wrap up our week there by spending our last day at the beach instead of the compound. ...So, no school, no kids, no hand drums, no air mattress naps outside. Our 8 days in Haiti had been marked by menial tasks and circumstances that by the end of the week had become monumental for us. Things like walking the distance from the balcony to the outhouse down the stairs, where we would take cold showers, each in our stalls, and process the day together. Or spending a few hours writing the names of colors in creole over and over again to go over them with eleven-year old, Bernardo. Or retreating from the mass of children and sweltering heat, to find a stuffy corner somewhere in that tired little building on the compound to read Scripture and let myself refuel. All of our coming and going, and being and playing, and laughing and working over the past week we had been there, had somehow become drenched with meaning; all of it. 

So when it was decided for us to go the beach on that last day, instead of spending our last day with all the Haitian kids who attended school on the compound, i was overwhelmingly disappointed. i didn't care about the beach or buying Haitian made jewelry/paintings at the beach. i wanted to see Jesus. 

--"The King will answer and say to them, 'Truly I say to you, to the extent that you did it to one of these brothers of Mine, even the least of them, you did it to Me.'" (Matthew 25:40.NASB.)  

i wanted to hold His hands, and share my water bottle with Him, and pick Him up to carry Him around the compound, and kiss His forehead to get a smile out of Him. They weren't just kids... they knew Jesus. And they longed to see His redemption and glory, and i had been privileged to be a small part of that in those eight days.

As i stood out on the waters edge with my best friend and a couple of other young women from our team, i let myself express some of my frustration and i said, "We shouldn't be here." i was being awful arrogant to have let myself for even one second believe that my plans were better that Jesus' and that somehow i knew best... but i did. i went on, "i don't understand why we'd spend our last day away from all the kids." i was hurt, but i was also prideful as all get out --what happens with out the Lord's say so? Hah, exactly. =) Nothing. He holds everything together and in Him we live and move and have our being; He is making everything beautiful in its time, and He is able to do immeasurably more than all we ask or think. 

So as i'm complaining, my best friend, my sister in our Lord Jesus, takes out her bible and begins to read Scripture to me. Fairly soon there after, Pastor Gary (the Haitian native who runs the school and disciples and shepherds the men and women who live on the compound where we stayed) joined us and began to talk with us about what we were reading. We talked about some of the psalms and his words fell fresh on our spirits and our faith was encouraged -he had that effect on people. :) 

And then he paused from his preaching and he looked over at me and another young man on our team, and he asked us, "Will you two come with me and tell these men on the beach about Jesus, about your faith in Jesus?"