Transient

I’ve been writing in my head for months but the words don’t type themselves. The last time I actually wrote some words down here was over the Christmas holidays when most everyone we spend time with outside of work/ministry was away from Haiti. That got me pondering the transient nature of our relationships and life in general. Little did I know that feeling was only a foreshadowing of the months to follow. I think about the life of Jesus and how he knew He only had a short time to walk in this world He humbly came to save. Jesus’ love for us through the incarnation shows that he is God with us. We are created with a compulsion to be with those we love as well, instead of remaining a world away. Lately, it feels like the worlds between us and those we love keep moving farther and father away. It feels like a way too slow kingdom coming. We are left longing for forever, not this transient entrapment.

A few weeks after Christmas we said goodbye to our dear friend Stanley who was also our close neighbor for nearly five years. He was the one whose laugh we missed the most when we moved from Macdonald. He was the one who would still come visit us the most after we moved. We tried to give Stanley as many jobs as we could muster in a world where jobs are extremely scarce. But in the end he felt he could no longer afford to stay. Stanley is one of thousands of Haitians who have felt forced to leave everything and everyone to move to Chile when the chance was offered. There was no exit visa required for a short window of time. Stanley is not the first or last of those we know personally to have left indefinitely for Chile or the Dominican Republic. A few other neighbors and two of our KOFAEL loan recipients have left suddenly as well. We watched Evan’s good friend Aleando’s mom, Jean Celine, leave her young children for unstable work in Chile that hasn’t yet afforded her to send money back to her family in Haiti. We begged her not to go. She felt it was her only chance. I hear the sadness in her voice when I call to ask her when she is coming back each month that passes. She says she has no way to return. I watch her thirteen-year old son’s head droop as he listens to the call on speaker while holding his two year old brother. We hope and pray for a different world. We pray for Jesus to return and get the end of this mess rolling while simultaneously being thankful for a slow kingdom coming so more will have a chance to come to know Him. Stanley may be one of the biggest guys we know, but I will never forget the look of fear in his glistening eyes the night before he left. It was his first flight on a plane. He had a return ticket on paper with no intention of using it. We don’t know if we will ever see Stanley or Jean Celine again. We are still praying for them to trust and know our God With Us after sharing with them both many times.

The day after we said goodbye to Stanley, we lost Eric’s only sibling, his brother Terry. He was here and then he was just gone and we can’t fully comprehend why Terry would take his own life. It still doesn’t feel real and will probably take a long, long time to process. Our God With Us gave Eric the strength to perform his brother’s funeral after a sleepless night of the worst travel experience ever getting there. We returned to Haiti with heavy hearts, though not without hope that we will see Terry again one day. We believe Terry did have a personal relationship with Jesus and is with Jesus now. We believe this because of the promise that nothing can separate us from the love of Christ, even when we lose all hope. He is faithful, even when we are faithless, because He cannot deny Himself. You may disagree with our theology on this as did the dozens of Haitian pastors whom Eric has shared this story. Most of them believe that there are stipulations beyond the gospel that decide whether or not we are fit for Heaven. If that is true, I don’t know how any of us are ever fit enough or why in the world Jesus would come just to die if there was something we could do (or not do) to save ourselves beyond trusting in what Christ has done.

Just as we were grieving and wrestling with all of this in the days that followed, we were faced with a tragic situation very close to home that resulted in the loss (or at least an unforeseen/unexpected relocation) of Eric’s best friend in Haiti. Our family along with others involuntarily and necessarily thrust into one of the scariest situations we have been through, still cannot believe what happened. We felt like we were living inside of a Jason Bourne non-stop action movie. But it was also very personal for us. That absolute nightmare of a week when our friend suffered a complete psychotic break (as the doctors are labeling it) ended with him involuntarily being air lifted to the states. But it did not really end. We have been walking through the storm and trauma of what happened with him and the family he had to leave behind in Haiti ever since. After months of separation due to the situation, he, his precious wife and kids were reunited a few days ago. The road feels very long and uncertain and we don’t know when we will see them again. We miss our friends and grieve with them over what seems to be lost. But we do not grieve as those who do not have hope. We are praying for the complete restoration of all things.

Shortly after the dust had settled, we found ourselves facing another loss when informed by our ministry partners, that they were no longer able to attend and serve at our church. The leaving was for good reasons and other ministry growth but still left us gasping a bit. Eric was now the only elder-leader left to run the international church in a volunteer capacity that already felt like too much. This had previously been a shared position of volunteers for the English speaking body to be able to meet and fellowship regularly. Mostly due to the transient nature of life lived abroad, these leadership positions had now dwindled down to one. But Eric has other responsibilities at Haitian churches with pastors he leads as well. The need was made known (as if it wasn’t obvious) but no one else was willing to step up to the plate. This went on for weeks and weeks. You may think it is difficult getting volunteers to serve at your church. Try asking a bunch of worn out, stretched thin missionaries and aid workers in Haiti. To say this was discouraging is an understatement.

The truth is, even when we know what is coming—whether we are the ones doing the leaving or it is the friends and family we love—it doesn’t necessarily make the loss any easier. We also had to say farewell to our dear Imsland family three weeks ago. We didn’t live close to each other in Haiti, but made every effort to act like we did. Now they live in freaking Minnesota. Life isn’t nearly as lovely without them here. I’m reminded when I think about needing a beach day, but not wanting to go by myself, that we don’t grieve for what we don’t love. Saying goodbye to the people and places we have loved and enjoyed, the stages of life that have been good—is hard. Evan cried for a week just thinking about his friend’s upcoming departure. I’m crying now as the missing sets in. The girls and Ethan talk about wishing we lived in the states like they never have before. I remind them that people move away in the states too. Just like we moved away from our friends and family. And they say, “Yes, but life goes on for them. There are still friends to play with when others leave. Here we don’t really have that. There is literally no one left.” It feels like too much loss lately. So I tell the kids that it is in times like these that God—Who always wants to be with us, but we are often too busy for Him—often gives us these seasons so we can turn to Him with our aching hearts. At the same time I’m begging God to prove them wrong about there being no one left and give them new friendships and even time again soon with the ones who have left. And He answers my prayer in profoundly sweet ways, though we can’t expect new friendships to be the same as the ones we are missing.

I’m not really ready to pray the same for myself. I’ve been through this a few times before. I’m not really ready to leave Haiti in two weeks for our trip to the states either. I dread packing and leaving people, places, and pets behind in Haiti. I know that may sound strange because certain things about living in Haiti are much harder than being in the states. But let me be honest. Our trips to the states are almost never a vacation and we usually come home more exhausted than when we left. We live out of suitcases in other peoples’ homes. I miss cooking our meals in my own kitchen. I miss just being with my husband and kids without other people watching and listening or dictating our schedule. I’m not saying I don’t also love these experiences and memories too. Part of the reason I don’t like to pack and leave is that I dread having to re-leave the ones we love when we return to Haiti. It never feels like enough time. I know this only feels like a curse because we are blessed to have so many people in so many places that we love so much. Life is uncompromisingly transient—for some more than others. It is more so for us and our third culture kids. Especially lately. Please pray for our hearts. I’m thankful to have the hope of forever in the midst of all these farewells. Until then, knowing Jesus and making Him known is enough. Lord, help us all to truly believe and live this way until

Your kingdom come,

Your will be done,

On earth as it is in Heaven.

I don’t want to sound like a Debbie Downer. During the past few months of so many losses, there have also been numerous joys. Eric’s parents visited us in Haiti for the first time shortly after his brother’s passing. This was a sweet time that soothed our aching hearts. Eric and Ethan had some great father-son time for nearly two weeks in Israel with my parents on an archaeological dig. I helped host a “Haitian Vacation” for a group of eleven ladies coming from Canada and the US alongside my Haiti bestie, Jennifer Imsland, (before she moved away to freaking Minnesota to start a new life with hot showers). I enjoyed time with my other dear friends Andrea, Emma, and Betsy I had been missing who came and encouraged me with their awesomeness on that trip as well. My sister Erin gave birth to a healthy baby boy that was a miracle to conceive and carry. We are counting the days until we get to meet little Toby David when we arrive in Texas! Our daughter’s have found jobs both in Haiti and the US and have exciting plans for the summer. We get to bring some of our sweet Haitian friends to Texas with us making me not feel like I am leaving everything behind this time around. Oh, and I’m going to be a grandma soon…to my grand-goats! Which is another reason why it’s hard to leave because they aren’t here just yet and I don’t want to miss the moment! Thankful that joy comes in the morning and that in the wake of sorrow we can hold eternity in our hearts throughout this transient life.

 

Se Tout,

Elisabeth