Where The Heart Is

I have a few things to say.

First of all, love alone is credible. Truly. Tell me when you remember counting anything as worth that didn't involve deep love.

Secondly, where you give love is where you will find yourself home. I miss, oh how I miss, the places I have travelled that have become "like home" to me. Mainly, Gaming, Austria and Dandann, Haiti. Why, though? Why is it that I am so intoxicated with these memories, so inebriated with the desire to be on that soil once again? Why can I be so sure that if my feet where only back on those trails I would know more about life? Sometimes it's as if they hold the keys to the knowledge I've sought all my life. What makes them so illustrious in my head and heart?

It is because in both of these places, I have laid down my life in a truly unique way. I have given up my will, my desires, my needs, time and again, for those around me. In Gaming, I spent a semester unlearning much of the pride and selfishness that I still carried as your "typical American teenager." I spent four months coming to a point where I meant, with all I was, the commitment of my life to God. I spent four months undoing myself that I could be remade. I prayed until I heard God's voice. I sat in silence and waited. I travelled far and wide. I sought him. I was a hunter, and I did not give up. I knew my soul needed more, and I was tireless until I possessed it. I suffered, was lonely, felt unwanted and misunderstood. These were only part of the trade for coming to see the face of God as I had never known before. I waited in that chapel day after day to allow him to penetrate through all my smoke and defenses, all my excuses and safeties. He did. He always triumphs. It can be the worst waiting for him to show up, but that light always breaks through, and the darkness is always scattered. His victories are sweet, and worth all the anticipation. So I know why my heart knows it is home there. It has bled there. It has died there. It has been reborn there. It is a womb for it as my mother's was for me. Within the bounds of that town, those mountains, that church, I grew richly. I developed senses for truth, beauty and goodness. I had the mud rubbed in my eyes so that what was washed clean was brand new, and able to see so much more clearly.

In Haiti, in just a few short days, I found much of the same transforming spirit at work on my heart. The sacrifices of one friend for another, of a sister to her family, of a "stand-in" mother for the orphans. Putting band aids on blisters, passing sunscreen to those who needed it, giving out granola bars and cliff bars and candy and toys. Moving to the job you wanted to do least, because someone else wants to do yours more. Giving your friend the better paintbrush, the less-smelly kid, the non-oozing diaper, the better piece of bread. Being silent when you want to talk so that others can. Being happy when others are sad even if you want to go hide in a corner too. Picking the child who wants to be held up, even when your arms just can't hold any more babies. Sitting through another sweaty night when you just wanted to feel clean for a few hours. Laughing when you fall off horses, when you have blisters in places you didn't know were possible, when you can't hold any food in you for the life of you, when you're deathly afraid of spiders and they seem to gravitate to your cot. Praising others when you feel so in need of appreciation. Loving others when you just want someone to hold you instead. Seeing past your own neediness, which is real, because your friend's neediness is more real. Wanting to shout to the world that your feet HURT and then spending the time listening to them share how their blisters are killing them instead. Feeling like you can't take another minute of noise and then smiling as little children's hands are all over your skirt and their voices are filling your ears. Wondering if you have the strength to keep standing sometimes, and then somehow being so rejuvenated because you picked up a child and kissed them.

This is exactly why these places are home. This is why any of our literal homes remain places we yearn for in our hearts. It is our families, those we have laid down our lives for, whom we have loved profusely and unconditionally, that make our "home" for us. This is why friends become like-family, and why places like Gaming and Dandann create the atmosphere of home for us that is perhaps more tangible than when we walk into our parent's homes.

They say "home is where the heart is." I say, "the heart is where your home is, and the home is where you have given the most love." Home is where you have served. Home is where you have died. Home is where you have surrendered and sacrificed and discovered all the joy and excitement you hoped for. Home is where you have truly lived.

Haiti, mwen renmen ou! (Haiti, I love you!)

This is me with Eurie, a little boy whose parents and baby sister were killed in the earthquake. He now lives at Moving With the Spirit's orphanage with his older brother and sister. He is a joy, a child who smiles at everything and laughs even more! This little one was so full of worms when the missionaries found him that he was lethargic and unhappy, and far too skinny. Since they gave him the proper medicine, he has become a different child, and clearly he's not having any trouble eating anymore :)

My heart misses him deeply.

The Earthquakes of 2010 (so far)

First Haiti, then Chile, and now China? We need to keep these people in our prayers! The lyrics in a song from a hymn at mass today said something like "if we cannot love our Savior than we will not be able to love our brother." Perhaps that's cliche and generic, but the point is this: you are born into a family, like it or not. Beyond that you are also part of a human family - the family of believers within the Church, the Body of Christ, and also the family of all your brothers and sisters, whoever they are and whatever their beliefs.

I was recently struck with sorrow at my own impatience in life when I watched a girl go up for communion at mass. She had very little use of her legs and so had the special crutches that are much like arm braces to allow her to walk. When I thought not only about the strength it must take in those arms just to move her body around but more importantly the strength to face each day, and every person she meets, with self-confidence I was floored. How hard! How very hard to face a world that says physical beauty (and at the very least, physical ability) is a must. How courageous, how absolutely beautiful, that she would live in confidence of Christ's love for her, even if this world will often judge and reject her.

Perhaps most profound was the thought that followed - why wasn't that me? What on earth kept me physically sound and whole and this sister of mine broken? Why was I able to complain about being exhausted from a run and she would never know the joy of running as hard as you can. The same emotion struck me when watching Avatar, because it is so clear the things we completely take for granted, like walking each day. So many suffer from various disabilities or diseases throughout their lives. They are our brothers and sisters, even when they look weird or we feel uncomfortable around them. Discomfort is never a good excuse for not loving someoen. I've heard it said before how obviously being nailed to a cross wasn't comfortable for Jesus. Point taken.

We must therefore do all we can for our suffering family members. These are our siblings, who are hungry and bruised and broken. They need our prayers, our letters of support, our financial assistance - whatever we have to offer.

Let us pray:
Lord God, Father of all people, we place before you our suffering family. Be near to those who have lost loved ones through disaster and disease. Draw into your heavenly abode all the souls of those who have passed from these devastating disasters. In your mercy and love, send your Holy Spirit to comfort, guide, enlighten and protect the hearts and souls of those who are stuggling to survive. Move in the hearts of your more fortunate children to realize that all they have been given is a gift from you to be shared with their sisters and brothers in need.
Blessed Mother, you know every sorrow and every hurt carried in the hearts of the poor and the hearts of those who mourn, for you yourself were poor, and you too have mourned your only Son. Hold our brothers and sisters tightly to your heart and never let them be parted from your tender compassion or the Heart of your Son Jesus Christ, our Lord and Savior.
We ask this in the name of Jesus the Lord, through the intercession of Mary, Joseph and all the saints.
Amen.