Tuesday, February 23, 2010

Transitions



The earthquake changed millions of people's lives. Drastically. Hundreds of thousands lost their lives and many will never have the proper burial and their families may never get closure. Homes lost. Limbs lost. Old lives and ways of life are gone.

What I am going through is so minuscule compared to the Haitian people. Yes, I have no idea where God wants me or what He wants me to do, and I'm grieving: for everything I have seen; things I had to do the night of the earthquake and the days and weeks following; for the Haitian people who lost everything in that fraction of time... but I had the opportunity to get out of the chaos and come home to a different brand of crazy.

I knew that no one here would understand. Their lives weren't changed at all. Maybe their hearts were softened for Haitians and they donated money or goods, and maybe even went down and helped for a few weeks. I wasn't expecting people to empathize, which made the move a little easier. If you have low expectations you will rarely be disappointed! But I was totally embraced by my Texas support system. Very few people expected me to be pre-quake Vivien. Most people knew I was dealing with emotions and feelings and thoughts I had never dealt with before, and gave me the space I needed.

Transparency is an important part of community. I have never felt comfortable sharing my pain and sorrows and heartache with the church I grew up at. Too many people have witnessed me deal with pain and have thought "she is dealing so well." I have dealt with grief and extreme/intense pain before, but nothing like this. On Sunday night, while speaking at my church, I was overcome with the need to tell them that I was broken. That I was going to be completely honest and open with them about my experiences in Haiti, and that probably would make them uncomfortable. Total, brutal honesty is not a common thing in church... which seems ironic to me. Church should be the place where we are most open and broken in front of people. So I was. And the outpouring of prayers, tears and support from everyone in the sanctuary was overwhelming. They even cancelled the business meeting, which might have been the first time in Baptist history.

God is using this time and my experiences to teach me about openness and complete reliance on Him, even though I thought I had been that way before the earthquake. I wish I knew where I would be a year from now, or even next week, but I am learning to accept that I have absolutely no control and that Someone who loves, and cares about, me more than anyone else is in total control.