There is a town called Montrouis
I had never heard of Montrouis.
I was just a girl trying not to plan. It was killing me, in an it-hurts-so-good sort of way. I'm a planner, you see. I long to see the world. If I was living in a parallel universe in which I didn't know God, I'm convinced every last bit of my effort would go into planning a meticulous journey through as many foreign lands as I could fly, sail, ride, or walk to. But I do know God, and He's not a fan of my style of planning.
Now, that's not to say God doesn't love an organized kid who gets Kingdom business done. His Spirit certainly lavishes the gift of Administration upon select humans who are stellar at planning in a Christ-honoring way. I'm working on that, considering my style of planning usually consists of me doing whatever I want and then trying to find a way to fit God into it. I think the best way for me to break my sinful habit of planning is to simply refuse to plan. James 4:13 has been my mantra. I refuse to chase after the wind.
I had never heard of Montrouis. I had heard of Haiti, of course. I would venture to say that every Christian I know has heard of the "need in Haiti." For some reason, I have never pictured myself there. I have taken flights of fantasy to Asia, Europe, Australia, and Africa, but never to Haiti. It was never in my plan - not even my imaginary one.
I think that might be a part of why God chose to tie me to it.
Friends, I cannot say that I am the girl I have always been. My journey has been one of destruction and restoration. See, I had built my life to be a monument to myself. My heart was pumping contaminated blood. I was sick. I was getting sicker. I was infected with my pride, so much so that I had never noticed its symptoms. It was just my normal. God, the Great Physician, had to scrape the infection from my soul. And, oh, did I ever bleed and writhe and cry out. It was not a moment of clarity or of enlightenment. It was a slow peeling back of layer after layer of decay. Because I needed to heal, and I couldn't until the infection was gone.
But then He began to heal me. And I felt for the first time what it was like to have a real heartbeat. I felt for the first time what it was to breathe. I felt light. I felt freedom. And I knew from then on that I would follow the Lord wherever He would lead. It is time to make good on my word.
Montrouis is a town on the west coast of Haiti. 1o women live there with their children. Some have given their children up because they cannot afford to feed them. The children who can not be kept live in an orphanage close by. There are 14 of them. Babies, toddlers, kids, and preteens.
On July 17th I will fly to Port-au-Prince, Haiti. I will get a ride to Montrouis. I will meet the women who will forever be a part of my story. I will witness theirs. I will laugh with them, cry with them, and serve them in every way I can. I will teach their children, hug them, and tell them how loved they are by God. On July 17th I begin a journey with no foreseeable end. I would love for you to be a part of it.
I was just a girl trying not to plan. It was killing me, in an it-hurts-so-good sort of way. I'm a planner, you see. I long to see the world. If I was living in a parallel universe in which I didn't know God, I'm convinced every last bit of my effort would go into planning a meticulous journey through as many foreign lands as I could fly, sail, ride, or walk to. But I do know God, and He's not a fan of my style of planning.
Now, that's not to say God doesn't love an organized kid who gets Kingdom business done. His Spirit certainly lavishes the gift of Administration upon select humans who are stellar at planning in a Christ-honoring way. I'm working on that, considering my style of planning usually consists of me doing whatever I want and then trying to find a way to fit God into it. I think the best way for me to break my sinful habit of planning is to simply refuse to plan. James 4:13 has been my mantra. I refuse to chase after the wind.
I had never heard of Montrouis. I had heard of Haiti, of course. I would venture to say that every Christian I know has heard of the "need in Haiti." For some reason, I have never pictured myself there. I have taken flights of fantasy to Asia, Europe, Australia, and Africa, but never to Haiti. It was never in my plan - not even my imaginary one.
I think that might be a part of why God chose to tie me to it.
Friends, I cannot say that I am the girl I have always been. My journey has been one of destruction and restoration. See, I had built my life to be a monument to myself. My heart was pumping contaminated blood. I was sick. I was getting sicker. I was infected with my pride, so much so that I had never noticed its symptoms. It was just my normal. God, the Great Physician, had to scrape the infection from my soul. And, oh, did I ever bleed and writhe and cry out. It was not a moment of clarity or of enlightenment. It was a slow peeling back of layer after layer of decay. Because I needed to heal, and I couldn't until the infection was gone.
But then He began to heal me. And I felt for the first time what it was like to have a real heartbeat. I felt for the first time what it was to breathe. I felt light. I felt freedom. And I knew from then on that I would follow the Lord wherever He would lead. It is time to make good on my word.
Montrouis is a town on the west coast of Haiti. 1o women live there with their children. Some have given their children up because they cannot afford to feed them. The children who can not be kept live in an orphanage close by. There are 14 of them. Babies, toddlers, kids, and preteens.
On July 17th I will fly to Port-au-Prince, Haiti. I will get a ride to Montrouis. I will meet the women who will forever be a part of my story. I will witness theirs. I will laugh with them, cry with them, and serve them in every way I can. I will teach their children, hug them, and tell them how loved they are by God. On July 17th I begin a journey with no foreseeable end. I would love for you to be a part of it.