Skip to main content

Mishy Mashy: Garage Saling, Mother Love and Praying like a Haitian

This is going to be a mish mash post. I apologize in advanced. I usually like to have my writing unfold into a thematic element and then fold back up into a recognizable theme (like an origami envelope that opens into a flower), but life has not been like that this week. So, here ya go!

I had a garage sale last Saturday. It was crazy how much work went into it and I am so grateful for the people who helped me make it happen (you know who you are, and you are AWESOME). I sat there all day on Saturday and was amazed at how much STUFF we have. I mean seriously, who knew there were so many Foreman grills in the world??? I think that because I am getting ready to move, I am finally getting rid of a lot of the STUFF that I have kept over the years because I thought it would somehow make me comfortable. You know, like the Paul Frank monkey footie pajamas that you kept for your future children. I sold a lot of that kind of stuff. And I sold it for $5, which seemed WAY underpriced. I was amazed at how hard it was to watch all of that go. I wanted some of it, I won't lie. But I had promised myself that I wouldn't bring anything home. So, when it was all over. Me and my brother packed up the family truck with two loads of STUFF and gave it to the Goodwill. Dang it! I really wanted to keep that ice-cream maker! But, stuff is not going to make this trip more comfortable for me. I should just let go of that idea now.
P.S. When you sell a lot of STUFF for $5 you make a respectable amount of money. $350 just got deposited in my special Peru bank account. I also met a sweet Peruvian couple at my Garage sale. They spent $15 and then told me they would be thinking of me. How nice!

After my garage sale, I had a mini-breakdown. I had been working hard for three days on moving furniture, organizing things, and being a nice sales person, and finally I reached the end of my capacity. I was so tired on Saturday night that I couldn't sleep. I just cried. If that has ever happened to you, you know it is one of the worst feelings ever. Sunday afternoon I had a conversation with my mom, where I told her that I was really emotional about leaving. I have been to many different countries but never moved away, and I have always had people traveling with me. Traveling with a team is great, because you see and experience things together and you get to take those experiences home with you. This time I don't get to do that. I don't have a team going with me. It is pulling me outside of my comfort zone. My mother prayed about this and then wrote me a beautiful letter of encouragement. 
Here is an excerpt:
"Do you believe that God has called you to Peru at this time? Is this something you see God doing? If so, you need to step out in faith and keep your eyes on Him. I believe that through this trip to Peru you are stepping forward into new territory that is not as comfortable for you. Without friends and people from church, you have to be totally dependant on God."

My momma is a wise lady and she is right.

I have a book called "God is No Stranger" that is made up of beautiful, simple, and honest prayers. They were written by Haitian Christians and the imagery and language in them inspires me to pray honestly. They use descriptions of the world around them to draw their hearts towards God. So, here is my attempt at praying like a Haitian:

Sometimes I get scared to think that I am alone- But You surround me.
Sometimes I struggle with sadness- But there is Joy.
Sometimes I wish for things I do not have- But there is Gratitude.

I realize that my heart is hard like the concrete,
I am slow to move like the molasses moving traffic,
And I need You like my Brita filtered water.

Help me to rest in Joy, Gratitude and You.
It is enough.
You are enough.


Popular posts from this blog

We Must Weep

A few weeks ago the darkness took over the sky. Now, anytime after 3pm, you can feel the downward pull of gravity telling you to sink into your bones.The same week that the sky became dark in Massachusetts, the temperatures dropped and the dread of winter became a talking point in day-to-day conversation. People here have not recovered from the winter of 2015 when snow piled 9 feet high in the span of 6 weeks. There is a tension in their voice when they talk about shoveling and being stuck indoors.

I love the fall. I love the change of the sky to clear blue when the air becomes dry. I love the colors of the leaves and the quiet rain. But, this fall has not been restful but restless for me. Under the trees laden with wet leaves I have not found peace and quiet, but a silent roar of anger. It is too soon. Not enough. I am not ready.
I can feel the vertigo of my sadness. Do not let anyone tell you that grief is not a physical process. Our bodies will tell us so many things if we l…

Don’t Tell the Other Moms

Mother’s Day 2018, I am in bed in my pajamas, drinking a semi-cooled cup of coffee from a llama mug, playing solitaire, completely alone in my house.

My husband and toddler went to church, without me. And, right after they left (because I am very holy and sanctified) I turned on the new Ali Wong special and laughed so hard that I sneezed 4 times in a row and then cried.

I did have a fleeting thought questioning if I should watch the comedy special or maybe do something- I don’t know- more reflective. But, here’s the thing. I’ve been doing a lot of work with the Enneagram lately, and as a part of this work I signed up to get daily reminders to check my inner thoughts/fears/motivations. So I get daily emails that remind me to let go of the need to prove my “worthiness” to others.

Today I woke up with a scratchy throat and achy body. Is this seasonal allergies or the beginning of a cold? I’m not sure. Also, yesterday we had a lot of people over. Plus, work has been a major crazy train f…

Grandma Penny and "This Love"

Grandma Penny is not my Grandma. But she is grandmother to several of my dear friends and great-grandmother to baby Lester, who calls me Tia, so that makes me feel as though we are related. On a deeper level, Grandma Penny is also a kind of spiritual grandmother. She and her husband led a Bible study that my parents went to when they were young, and so many of my memories of going to church growing up have her in the background with her hands raised and head bowed. We love so many of the same people, and, for so long, I have watched her love the same God.

Last November we were at baby Lester’s first birthday party, and there were many conversations swirling through the air. I had just come from the kitchen with my plate of food and sat down in a likely, out-of-the-way corner of the room. I was ready to eat quietly and watch all the people for a little bit when Grandma Penny suddenly reached across the inches of blue carpet that separated us and put her hand on my knee.
“How is your …