It was our last day in Haiti, and a grinning boy on the schoolyard plucked a photograph from his front pocket. He held up the photo of an American girl. And my mama-heart swelled.
The girl in the photo? She’s our oldest daughter, Lydia.
The sweet boy: Romario.
He’s 11 years old, and he lives with his family in one of those temporary blue tent-shelters that Samaritan’s Purse set up after the earthquake in 2010. That was nearly four years ago. The “temporary” tent is still Romario’s home.
But there is hope for Romario. He finds hope inside his mountaintop schoolhouse, where the walls are painted the color of hope: sunny-yellow.
Hope is a sharpened pencil and an arithmetic book and chalkboard at the front of every classroom.
Hope is a classroom full of rambunctious preschoolers praying before lunch.
For Romario, hope is a friend named Lydia.
Hope isn’t a silly notion … it’s an actual place, and I stood right there, staring hope in the face– on the mountaintop where the Haitian flag snaps on the pole, and the school mascot is a sassy goat named Sophia, and a boy carries a photo of an American girl in his pocket.
For Romario and the other 850 children who attend the Touch of Hope school, hope looks like a sponsor – someone who says, “I believe in you.”
Every day, Romario walks two miles to the Touch of Hope school with my daughter’s picture pressed into his pocket, like a treasure. Yes, Lydia is Romario’s friend, and she is also his sponsor.
And Romario? That sweet boy is pressed into the folds of our family’s collective heart. So is his country.
Our family is almost home now – shuffling between airport gates like pack-mules.
Our shoes are still Haiti-dirty. Our hearts have been Haiti-cleaned.
See, that’s the thing about going to Haiti, and that’s why we keep going back. Haiti will break your heart, and remake it all over again. But the part in between the making and the breaking? It hurts. A lot.
Dear God, how do we go back home without the pain of having our hearts broken?
Maybe we don’t.
And maybe that’s the point anyway.
This morning, we awoke to the sound of the rooster outside the orphanage wall for the last time, the sound of the babies crying out “alleluia” from their little cribs. I couldn’t go in the “baby room” to say goodbye. It was just too painful.
I tried to hide my tears behind my obnoxiously large sunglasses, but the orphan boys saw anyway. They whispered to each other: “Mom Jennifer kriye.” Translation: Mom Jennifer is crying.
Yeah. She was. Mom Jennifer was crying for a hundred reasons.
For hard goodbyes. For “melting” houses, and ribcages under threadbare shirts, and persistent alleluias that break through the growl of hunger. For sassy orphans who stole our hearts. For singing “Jesus Loves Me” to calm the naked toddler. And Mom Jennifer cried even more when she saw the tears running down her daughters’ cheeks.
We were all breaking at 6:30 a.m.
Mom Jennifer “kriye” because when she gets home, she’ll be tempted to ask her own daughters if they have any Christmas gift “ideas.” And it makes Mom Jennifer angry, that we have to actually trade “ideas” for gifts in America, because most of us don’t really need anything. Collectively, we feed a gazillion-dollar industry that creates stuff no one really needs just so we have “ideas” to put on Christmas lists. I knew it for sure on the way home from Haiti, when I flipped through a Sky Mall magazine to find a gadget called a “window-cleaning robot.” And there was a toothbrush that “sings” songs from Lady Gaga or Justin Bieber. The catalog also offered a “magic showerhead that transforms your regular shower into a fountain of brilliant fun” by illuminating the water with one of seven bright LED colors. I know people who would just go for a little bit of clean water, thank-you-very-much.
I want to be done with “ideas.”
I have another “idea.”
How about we do Christmas differently, North America?
We all want that, don’t we? I have heard you. You want simple. You want manger Christmas, not Big Box Christmas. You don’t want a Christmas with more tinsel, more flashing lights, and more singing toothbrushes.
You want more Jesus.
I do, too.
Dear Lord, hear us now.
I am sitting on an American Airlines jet, flying somewhere over Oklahoma, tapping out these words. I’ve been scouring Scripture all day. I cannot find a single Bible verse to justify a Christmas of window-washing robots and LED-lit shower heads.
Whose birthday is this anyway? And how can I give the birthday boy a real gift?
And since Jesus is not here, in the flesh, how can we make sure that Jesus gets an actual gift from us — a gift He really wants? Behold: Jesus left his own Christmas “gift idea” in Scripture.
I think it’s pretty safe to say this is what Jesus wants:
“Truly I tell you, whatever you did for one of the least of these brothers and sisters of mine, you did for me.’.” Matthew 25:40
When we give Christmas gifts to the least, we give to Jesus.
Tonight, I think of Romario, a boy who carries hope in his pocket and in his heart. Our family visited his blue-tarped house on the day we crossed through villages to visit all of our sponsor children. When we visited Romario, Lydia gathered his family under the roof of his one-room house, and she asked everyone to bow their heads to pray. We held hands in a circle.
Lydia prayed for Romario’s home, and his education, and for him to “grow with God.”
And I’m doing the same right here, “growing with God.” I’ll be honest. Our Chistmas won’t be radical enough. I’ll splurge on something, and I’ll stuff the stockings too full.
But I pledge it right now. I won’t miss the real meaning of Christmas. And I won’t forget why I cried on the orphanage yard, and I won’t forget the Christmas “idea” that Jesus left for us in His Word.
I won’t forget the reason.
Dear God, don’t let your people ever, ever, ever forget the reason.
It really is all because of Jesus. All.
How to Do Christmas Differently This Year
SPONSORSHIP: Consider sponsoring a child at Touch of Hope school or another organization. We sponsor several children through Touch of Hope and have seen firsthand how this school – led by a Haitian man in partnership with Iowa friends – is an integral part of transforming the oceanside village of Simonette, Haiti. For just $35 a month, you can give a child like Romario real hope. For more details, visit this page on Facebook.
SHOP VIBELLA: Buy ViBella Jewelry, bags, and ornaments for Christmas gifts this year. This ministry has created jobs for at-risk women in Haiti and Mexico. The ministry has been life-changing for brave and beautiful women.
EMPOWER WOMEN: My friend Sarah Bessey has put together a Christmas gift guide here, focusing on companies that empower women. I’ll be using Sarah’s guide this Christmas.
ETHICAL SHOPPING: It’s hard to know whether products you’re purchasing are something you could support with a clean conscience. So? Tsh has done some of the work for you. Find a great list by clicking here.
So, what’s your Story? A #TellHisStory is any story that connects your story into the story of God.
You’re invited to tell that story right here, in community with us.
Share your narratives, your poems, your Instagrams tagged with #TellHisStory, … your beautiful hearts. You are the chroniclers, the people who help others make sense of the world with your words and your art.
Story is how we know that, no matter what happens, we can get back up again.
Visit someone (or two) in the link-up to encourage with a comment. Then, Tweet about your posts, and the posts you visit, with the #TellHisStory hashtag. Come back on Friday to visit our Featured #TellHisStory, in the sidebar.
A final note: This is a safe place to tell your stories. You don’t have to be a professional writer or a grammarian to join us. Story is built into every single one of us. Your story matters, because it’s part of God’s story down through history, not because you punctuated everything correctly. Deal?
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