Every Thursday night the prompt goes up and #fmfparty slows down. We write. We breathe out our hearts, sharing the hurts and the joys and splitting hearts and words wide open. But tonight is a little something extra!

I’m visiting at Kate’s place via a video hangout with Asheritah. Talking and cameras are *so* not my thing – but the invitation to talk about and hang out for 5 minutes? I couldn’t resist. And hey, they even told me I have a southern accent so #WINNING. Come join us?


Almost twelve months ago I wrote about the word choose. That word turned to Haiti and told the story of tickets and spur of the moment, very unlike-my-normal-self decisions to choose to go and hope I’ll fly.

I didn’t have anything tying me to Haiti and I had no idea what the country could hold for me. I didn’t know what I could give to her.

But I chose to go.

God is sending me back. In March. Tickets are being purchased, shot records are being requested, and I don’t even have a duffel bag to pack in because the dog peed on and then ate my bags the last go ’round. (Is that TMI? It was a rough moment in Haiti, friends. A real rough moment.)

I’m unprepared and so prepared and then completely a joyous mess because there’s no way to fully be ready. You can never be ready, not really. You can pack your bags and sign the papers and walk onto the plane but you don’t know what God has in store or how every time you try to bless someone your blessing will be doubled, tripled, and poured back onto you.

It’s a glorious mystery.

This time it’s different. I have time to plan and prepare and anticipate. There was no big, rushed decision to choose to go. But I believe deep in my heart that He’s sending me for more.

Haiti isn’t finished with me yet. She has countless stories still waiting to be told. There are faces lit up with joy so sure, so deeply rooted, and they’re waiting to smile and love places deep within me that America tends to soak dry. There are painful, heartbreaking waiting to be told.

He’s sending me. From sharing in one Five Minute Friday post to another, it could look a lot the same. Same country, same girl, same organization. But this time? I’m taking you with me.

We’re going together, friends. To listen to the stories and to hear the singing and the loud clapping that I swear is heaven on earth. To watch the little girls run fast down those dirt roads and to feel their hands slip so quietly and effortlessly into our own open palms.

He is not done. There’s more to the story. Haiti is more than a country living under blue tarps.

They are pure, unbridled joy.

She is the land of the always allelujah.

I can’t wait to take you along.


More to come… in the mean time, a few stories from my time there?

When God Teaches You How To Read

Our Walls Keep *Us* In

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