Lenel is 14 years old now.
He’s the oldest brother of our twin daughters we adopted from Haiti and
he is the one who helped me find her…last month he led me straight to her. Lenel and I hopped on the back of a motorcycle. Pastor Nahum’s oldest son, Clief, was our driver
and it was just the three of us headed out to a place I’d never been
before.
Motorcycles don’t scare me but
something about the unknowns surrounding us as we rode off to an isolated
village in hopes to find her was reason for fear. If it weren't for the higher than normal
levels of adrenaline coursing through my body I’m sure I would have been
terrified. Instead I was like an untamed
horse running free.
We came to a stop and got off the
motorcycle. Clief parked it next to a
tree where a man was sitting and told him we’d be back in about an hour. If there was any chance of me finding her I
would have to take a ½ mile walk on terrain the motorcycle was not able to
travel. Lenel took the lead and our journey continued on foot.
I met some of his cousins—some
of our girl’s cousins—on the way.
The closer we got the more that half mile started to feel like ten thousand miles...my heart beat intense. I became more focused. I just needed to get there and I
prayed hard that she would be there. I
needed to find her. She had to be there.
God answered my prayers. I found her.
There she was...standing in an old ratty white dress with brown splotches that wasn't buttoned proper, gripping a tree post supporting her shack roof...I didn't expect to feel so strongly attached to her.
I found her this way in the middle of a remote village so primitive I wondered how anyone
could survive in a place like this. How
was she even alive? This wasn't the
first time I've gazed on stark beauty while heavy pain surrounded. I see it a lot in Haiti but the best picture of pain and beauty colliding is found in my Bible. On the cross I
remember how my Jesus hung there pouring out both His blood and love all at the
same time—how in excruciating pain He chose to die for me so I could live forever—all
that pain and beauty twisted tightly together representing the greatest love
ever known to human creation.
Let me put it in reverse for a second for those who may have missed the beginning. The mother of our
twin girls died when they were 10 days old but their mother’s mother is still
living and she is the one I just found. Are you with me? Our Raphaella and Wana’s biological grandmother is alive—she's the closest
thing I have to knowing who their mother was and I have to know. My curiosity almost feels dangerous, like I
could be making a mistake. But to not
inquire, to do nothing, well, I know that would be wrong. Besides, I can sense my curiosity and faith working in harmony here and that
combination is exactly what I need to overcome the fear…it’s all I need to find
the strength to go further and see deeper.
You see, I have this burning urgency, this intense desire, to be
prepared when our girls will ask me questions one day.
I want to live in the story now so I can tell them the story later—they deserve to
know and when I retell it to them it needs to be their real story—filled with
as many details as possible.
Before venturing out to find our girl’s grandmother I asked
around trying to learn a little about what kind of person she is. No one seemed to know much about her—all they
told me was that she practices Voodoo and is old and dying. I didn't want to hear those few dark
descriptions and decided even if it were true I still wanted to find her. I convinced myself if I could just get to her I would
be able to find something beautiful about her.
Those people who told me she was an old dying Voodoo lady—they
were right. But I was right too—I immediately
found beauty in her. I didn't realize
how much she would mean to me. As we got
closer to her the power of mixed emotions stirring wild inside me nearly caused
me to drop to my knees and I had to squeeze tighter to Lenel’s hand—our roles temporarily reversed—I was the child and he was my strength.
He helped me put one foot in front of the
other so I could follow through with the plan to meet the girl’s grandmother. Tears started
falling and I don’t know if crying was a smart move but it was honest and something
I couldn't find the inner strength to contain.
These tears were not the simple kind...
...they fell for a million different deep reasons—some my soul could understand
while others remain a mystery. As they slid down my cheeks I felt something familiar—the same
thing I felt when I first met my baby girls and all of Pastor Nahum’s
orphans nearly three years ago. I was totally vulnerable,
exposed in a reckless fashion, but I didn't care. I don’t have to try to love her. I just love her. Not knowing if this love will be received or reciprocated…it’s
Jesus-love and at first sight I loved her in this way. It’s worth
it. It won’t go to waste.
But we just met.
How would she ever believe this wild love I have for her? Had she ever been loved before in all of her life? Questions flashed in my mind but the most important question was this: How will she know Jesus loves her? Because, with every fiber of my being, I really wanted her to know this one thing most of all—that Jesus does love her.
Would His love for her be evident in me and if it was would her eyes see it?
She was so frail.
When I embraced her I was gentle as if I was handling fine delicate porcelain. I looked adoringly and deeply at her while
carefully stroking her arm not wanting to break something so precious and
beautiful. To some her sight might be
gloomy—I’m not sure. But to me, her
beauty is stunning. She is one of the
most beautiful creatures I've ever seen and now her life takes up all this space
in my heart like she’s part of me and I believe this all has everything to do
with God’s adoptive heart and His choice to make families in His own perfect
way.
Her dark brown skin is smooth. She has deep lines across her forehead and one
at the bridge of her nose. Without
speaking her eyes tell me her life has been long, hard, and empty. I don’t think humans can tolerate emptiness
for too long and in my heart I have to believe that Jesus has been there filling
some of that emptiness even if she was unaware.
I blink back the tears that continue to well. She’s easy to talk to. I don't understand why it took me so long to find her but I have to let that go and trust it's God's timing. What matters is that I know her and love her now.
Standing
with her in my arms I remember she practices Voodoo so I wasn't sure if she’d
let me pray with her. I asked her and when she answered yes it made me happy. We prayed
together. I prayed for Jesus to relieve
her back pain and I prayed for her salvation.
The longer I prayed the harder I cried and I’ll never forget that first
prayer we shared together.
There’s
something wonderful about kissing her. A
surprised smile swept across her face as I kissed her so delicate over and over.
When Clief announced it was time to go I felt
my legs go numb and wondered how I’d walk away when all I wanted to do was never leave her. I wished staying in her life was as easy as adding her as a
friend to my Facebook but that’s not reality for our girl’s grandmother or for
most of the 3rd world. But I
resolved in my heart that I would go back to see her again. I will go back...I will go back to her...
God is peeling back more layers. His hand is still moving. I’m amazed and humbled, praying and waiting. What happens next? I fall in love with the
mystery of chasing after Jesus all over again.
I want to live out my part of the next chapter God has written in this
story and I want to do it well…
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