We are the Dream
“I have a dream that my four little children will one day live in a nation where they will not be judged by the color of their skin, but by the content of their character.”
Martin Luther King Jr, 1963
Last Summer, our family made a big move. After living for the past 10 years in Port-au-Prince, Haiti, our family took a prayerful leap to transition to a season in the states. Not only did we move belongings from one state to another, but we moved our lives from a completely different country, into a culture my children have visited, but never fully lived in. Our family had no choice but to jump into a new way of life, filled with plenty of abrupt changes.
Our move did not come without great hesitation, deep grief, and unsettled hearts. We personally did not feel ready or prepared for this move, but God continued to show us was time for a season in the states. Our ministry in Haiti remains the same and is entirely Haitian staffed. Frentz and I are able to focus on growth and fundraising stateside, and we travel back and forth frequently(though not as often as we would like as Haiti has been experiencing yet another season of political and economic turmoil resulting in violent protests, countrywide lock-downs, and threats being circulated, such as “if you leave your house tomorrow you had better write your name on your foot because you will be found without your head”). All in all, our Summer and Fall looked and felt nothing like we had imagined.
On top of the whiplash of reverse culture shock(now that’s a whole other blog post), we decided to move our stateside belongings from one of the northernmost states, to one of the southernmost states. This way we would be closer to Haiti for our going back and forth. The process of setting up a new house was less than idyllic. We spent the first three weeks in our house “camping” without a single piece of furniture because the delivery truck was late. We had plenty of “picnic” dinners on the tile, and aching backs that aged us beyond our years. What we DID have though, was 24/7 electricity and clean, running water!
The day after we landed in our new city was the last day of Kindergarten registration before school started. We were in a mad dash to have our son’s state forms transferred and all of the proper official paperwork ready for our oldest son to begin school on the first day of the year. We had rushed everything we could to try and keep him from being the “new kid” that started late. After all of these new adjustments, we just wanted him to fit in and feel as normal as possible on his first day. Unlike most of the other kids this would be his first day being away from his parents. After living life on mission together in a tiny ministry compound, he was now surrounded by new people, in a new city, and a new country. “Stranger danger” hadn’t been part of his upbringing since every person who entered our property was a staff member, friend, or mission team member!
Landing in a new city, we were all forced outside of our comfort zones immediately. No matter where we went or what we did, we did not recognize a single face or place. Coming from living in the same small Midwest town my whole life, and then in community in Haiti for 10 years, I had never experienced the total newness that also comes with a lot of lostness and loneliness.
Everything for us was changing. Our diets. Our language. Our weather. Our friends. Our routine. Our work. It was a lot for our minds and hearts to process, and while our lives felt all mixed around and tossed and turned upside down, my family needed my focus to be on them. This blog and its purpose are important to me, but my children take priority. So instead of writing, I found myself setting up hot wheels tracks, pretending our floor was hot lava, and biking around our new neighborhood in an effort to make new faces familiar ones.
Just when we felt like we were starting to settle into our new groove, I received a phone call that my grandma had a major stroke. About a week later, she met Jesus. My grandma and I were kindred spirits. She was my greatest prayer warrior, my biggest advocate, and my best editor. She read every single word I have ever published. As I processed life without her in it, if felt too painful to press that “publish” button knowing it would be the first thing I wrote that she would never read. So I put off writing just a little bit longer. Long enough until I had something to say that I know she would want shouted from the rooftops. (Check out that entry on The Kindness Fruit here.)
Now, I hope you will understand why there is a gap in the timeline of blog posts. My husband and I needed to learn to navigate this new life together. My kids needed me in the headspace to help them adjust and walk them through their feelings. My absence in writing was certainly not for a lack of content or passion. There were many days it felt like torture not to sit down and write something. I spent many mornings in the shower thinking up witty blog post ideas that only ever made myself laugh. If the Lord wants me to share any of them, He will bring them back to mind. It just wasn’t the time. My family needed me more.
When everything had become a bit scary and overwhelming , the Lord kept giving us the word “seasons.” I found myself repeating it daily in my head, “This is only for a season. We can do this for a season.” We won’t always try to throw a birthday party and realize we don’t know anyone to invite. We won’t always go for a walk around the neighborhood, or attend church without seeing a single soul we know. We won’t always feel so lost at home. Things won’t always feel so unknown. I turned to Ecclesiastes 3:1-8 for comfort:
”For everything there is a season, a time for every activity under heaven.
A time to be born and a time to die.
A time to plant and a time to harvest.
A time to kill and a time to heal.
A time to tear down and a time to build up.
A time to cry and a time to laugh.
A time to grieve and a time to dance.
A time to scatter stones and a time to gather stones.
A time to embrace and a time to turn away.
A time to search and a time to quit searching.
A time to keep and a time to throw away.
A time to tear and a time to mend.
A time to be quiet and a time to speak.
A time to love and a time to hate.
A time for war and a time for peace.”
Just like a change in the weather can bring a new season outside, a change in our place, pace or perspective can usher a new season into our souls. Some seasons we cheer on with excitement, and others have us bracing ourselves and questioning our callings. With each new season, God has something for us to learn. He has something for us to discover and some way for us to grow. A season of financial hardship can also be a season of trust. A season of sickness can also be a season healing. A season of hurt can also be a season of grace. A season of loneliness can also be a season of connection with God. We found that our season of transition was also a season of rooting ourselves in our family of four.
That is where I want to settle today: my family. My crazy, loud, multicultural, multiracial, Jesus loving family. They are my priority. They are my gift. A gift I would never have been allowed to open a couple generations ago. I am very much white. My husband is very much black. Our kids are very much brown.
Through God’s grace and provision, we have landed smack dab in the middle of an incredibly diverse neighborhood. Our immediate neighbors are from Brazil, Puerto Rico, Bulgaria, Honduras, Romania, Russia, Dominican Republic, and Colombia. The families who live up and down our street represent many skin tones. Our sidewalks and yards are filled with beautiful children running around, all laughing and playing together. This community is yet another gift we could not have lived mere decades ago.
And so to commemorate this day when we remember a man who fought for justice and equality with his words and with his God given wisdom, I thank you, Martin Luther King Jr for believing this was possible.
Thank you for being a dreamer.
Thank you for being a bold believer in love.
Thank you for raising your voice for justice.
Thank you for being brave enough to stand when your opinion was not popular.
Thank you for fighting darkness with light.
Thank you for setting an example for your children and our children to learn what it means to have courage to do the right thing, not the easy thing.
Our country has come so far, and we still have a ways to go, but your dream is alive and being lived out every single day.
I wish you could see my family today.
We are living your dream.
Thy Kingdom come, Thy will be done
On Earth as it is in Heaven.
