Wrestling

In an effort to offer reassurance, people have often encouraged us to hang in there, that everything happens for a reason because everything is a part of God's plan. It is spoken by the faithful, a mantra many use to make sense out of life's painful and senseless situations. But I don't buy it. For me it doesn't make sense. Its not a theology I can comfortably live with.

Is it really God that is keeping us in the States rather than US bureaucracy? Am I to believe the earthquake was orchestrated as a part of Gods Plan? Are 300,000 dead a part of some grand scheme? God planned to rob this womanof her children? Or twist Susan Surandon's ankle to make important national news? How about Cancer? Drug addiction? Stray bullets that kill innocent bystanders? Genocide? Suicide bombers? Starvation? Death by diarrhea?

Rather than masterminding plans like a puppet master, doesn't God instead give us the courage to keep going? To consider new choices in the face of ever-changing circumstance? To adapt. To survive. To heal. To make the best out of things. To reflect. To learn. To keep working. To love. I like to think that rather than planning the maiming injuries so many people sustained, God instead is active in the strength to get up and dance despite pain. Isn't it the spirit of something bigger that allows children to re-learn walking even when the prospect of their life holds not a lot of hope. Do we--as people in touch with the resourceful spirit of life we are equipped with--make the best of our situation so that one day we can look back with hindsight and feel ok with the lessons learned and path blazed? I like to think that when we are faithful, we stop whining and get creative. We choose to move forward.

The truth is, no one can really exercise much control over their life even though we fool ourselves into thinking we can. Not because God steers our puppet strings but because life is fluid. We can only control how we react to life, let spirit enter the choices we make and then prepare ourselves for whatever comes next. The earthquake and the events that followed is a big fat lesson in this life truth. Some days I react to our own situation like a mature, educated, loving, sensitve and wise woman. Others I stomp and kick and cry with the emotional maturity of an infant. On those days Cici pat-pats my shoulder and Solomon does a funny dance move to snap me out of my funk. We are lucky. Lucky to be alive, lucky to be together, lucky to have such incredible children, lucky to be afforded this luxurious limbo time. The people of Haiti are having to react in a very different atmosphere, with very different resources. And just when I've hit the peak of a pitty party dance, I remember just how cushy our lives are.

I'm no expert. Like everyone else, I'm trying to make sense of it all. Makes sense of why our children thrive while others are left starving. Make sense of the fact that our family is living in a home surrounded by vibrant fertile fields, eating 3 meals a day and sleeping without fear while a family of 12 in Haiti huddles together under a leaky tarp on crowded soccer field while rain turns their floor to mud and threatens to wash away what is left of their meager belongings. Make sense of why Patrick and I were blessed with two beautiful children placed quickly in our lives while others struggle to conceive or to weather out painfully long adoption processes. Making sense of tragedy. Of disparities. Of changes in plan. Of life.

I have Haiti to thank for perspective. I watch people of incredible faith keep living, keep smiling, keep dancing, keep dreaming, keep planning, keep building because they chose to do so in spite of how much they hurt, how little they have, how hungry they are or how much work lies ahead. The people I have met rely on their resilient spirit to rise above unjust and ugly situations. And as we consider not living in Haiti for a while, I mourn the loss of living face-to-face with such inspirational people.

The unknown of our future is scary. The unknown of Haiti's future is frightening. I've never been good at facing the unknown. But it is honest. None of us really know what our tomorrows hold, we just like to pretend we do. In the unknown, the confusion, the frustration, I search for God... not to ask Him for directions, but for strength. For patience. For my humor. For inspiration. We learn to emprace the now, to rely on that inner steel, inner strength that I believe flows from something bigger than ourselves. I pray that the choices we are to make act as part of a solution rather than part of the problem. And as far as plans, big or small, I try to let them go.

Somedays are better than others.