confusion about "numero uno"

“Yahtsen! Yahtsen! Yahtsen!” Though only twenty-some lips belt the battle cry it rings a power you’d believe was harnessed from AT&T stadium opening night of the cowboys season. Daily the chant echoes and never does its strength decrease an ounce. In fact every time that boy tackles another obstacle the shouts increase in energy, “YAHTSEN! YAHTSEN! YAHTSEN!”

No one who comes across him can deny he has more charm in him than every disney fairy-god-mother combined. His outgoing, lovable spunk though does not erase his developmental needs. Very young his progression was arrested with the strike of a crippling sickness, leaving him far behind the average when pre-school began this year. At age five he couldn’t color in the lines, he couldn’t pedal a trike, he couldn’t form comprehensible words, cut straight or even run.

But how far behind he began only increases the grandness of his strides. He speaks ceaselessly, trikes along with everyone else and colors as neat as you can expect any five-year-old boy to. I believe with out a doubt that this repetitive anthem deserves as much credit to his growth as any individual. Twenty-some children holler in unison to form one of the most empowering incentives I’ve witnessed ever. Daily I see twenty plus kids demand all attention be given to one boy, I see twenty plus faces, not one even a decade old that realize fully lifting up others far outweighs bringing glory and happiness to oneself!

It clenches my breath and heaves it away to view how these children strive to help one boy see progress. Tears surface as the most athletic boy in class gives up 1st place in order to race alongside and encourage Yahtsen. I couldn’t help but look to the sky knowingly, gratefully as one boy tossed aside the good trike and taught Yahtsen to pedal on his own (a task four professors had been trying to accomplish for five months.) I glimpse a miracle daily in every small favor done for this awesome kid, when the children help him find his place in line, offer a high five after him scoring the goal or placing their hand in a seat reserving it especially for him! After you couldn’t even tell which party receives the greatest blessing Yahtsen, the child rooting him on or me standing sideline, smiling ear-to-ear out of something between disbelief and being totally impressed.

"I’m too proud to ask, too broke to eat, too weak to bow, to strong to bleed”

The opening verse of “Too Proud” by Enter The Worship Circle remain debated in the Tlucek home. Until recently I’ve stood on the fence in regards to them, but in the past two weeks I’ve spotted new meaning in the words. Alone I’m too strong by earthy definitions to bleed for others, alone my heart beats to sustain me, to better myself. Alone everything I do, I do in the name of bringing myself glory. 

The lyricist pours out a confession I need to echo. I’m too proud, too broken, too weak and too caught up in an earthly delusion of what strength looks like to live a life truly worthy of living. I‘m desperate for God to heal me so I will choose to pour out onto others, so my pride and  selfishness will not hinder me from sacrificing anything of my own for the least of these.

“Can you undo me...enough to heal me”

This verse I also reverberate, that God might undo me, make me like my students, self-effacing, not even concerned with my own glory but entirely enthusiastic about bettering those whose paths intersect mine!

confusion about thriving amidst suffering

The second hand sandals on her feet couldn’t begin to protect from the harsh Haitian conditions, even if the strap on them wasn’t broken. You couldn't guess the original color of her shirt through all the dust and excessive wear. Her pants cut off at her shins, not as a fashion statement, but because her waist is so thin she needs pants five sizes short just so they stay up. With her limbs so slim it seems impossible she can even walk, the fact that she has the ability to carry her sister at the same time simply must be described as a miracle. Neck down she can be described as dismal.

Looking her in the eyes though that adjective seems laughable. While she might not always tote the childish gleam you wish every kid had, she certainly radiates. Whenever you look at her, you witness and unmistakable joy. It’s confusing, while you can’t miss her joy its source is all but unrecognizable. Her mother dropped off the grid nearly a month ago, her family just scrapes by, she’s only nine and as long as she can remember she has been the primary care giver of her two sisters and  yet she has this delight you can’t quite explain. Then you see her siblings smile and suddenly it makes sense! Her bliss exists simply in knowing she got her sisters through another day, that she has preserved their smiles over one more night.

The last couple weeks here have been hard. The work load has been heavy, exhaustion has had me in its grip and one thing after another discouraged me till it felt like I’d just burst. This Thursday though, reading 1 Peter 4, my purpose was revived. Repeatedly the Bible tells us to suffer like Christ. When we look at Christ’s greatest suffering on the cross we see that it was done for our sake, Christ suffered out of love for men. Without a doubt Jesus has no regrets, certainly every time someone puts their faith in God Jesus has immense appreciation for his suffering on the cross.

Life comes with a lot of suffering, sometimes we get called to it, sometimes we choose it unnecessarily, sometimes it simply falls in our laps. It’s easy to allow these trial to bind us, to retreat from honest pursuits in fear of persecution, to ignore your own decisions that have lead you to pain or to just wallow in misfortune. Easily this young Haitian girl could mope, drop her head in defeat and let her destitute situation rule her. Unknowingly though she has opted for something more. Everyday waking up and resolving to strive for her sisters betterment she gains a win over her tribulation. In spite of the rest she has joy because she suffers like Christ, in order to uplift others! Don’t grant trials the power to bog you down or make you stagnant, instead grow through them so your suffering is not in vain and love others because in that there is always joy! Suffer like Jesus, always loving others!

confusion about nature vs. nurture vs. nurture

His eyes burst with uncontainable hope! A hope that only radiates from those with infinite immagination, infinite potential. His eyes say seven, his history argues. His dimples flash with unmatchable joy! A joy that only springs from those that have incomparable gratitude for every gift. His dimples say seven, his history argues. His laughter rings with unbridled energy! An energy that only projects from those who adore the moment and never stress the next. His laughter says seven, his history argues.

Undeniably he is a child, undeniably only by a miracle he has retained his youth. Those eyes that encompass so much hope, have witnessed more depravity than what most men could endure. Those dimples that embody such joy have too many times felt the sting of uncontrolled emotion. And those lips that continually emit such bliss in laughter, do so entirely in contrast to what his circumstances should elicit.

Growing up under the “care” of a notorious gangster in Port-Au-Prince this boy has been exposed to nearly nothing besides a dog eat dog mentality. To him abuse doesn’t seem a rarity but a custom. His mother, fathers girlfriends, uncountable siblings, himself merely exist as outlets to the rage of a pathetic man and a cruel society. At home others have been portrayed as little more than resources one would use to better themselves. People are painted into clients whose addictions should be utilized for profit, peons whose poverty should be manipulated to get dirty work done, women whose vulnerability should be exploited for an instants lust. Wherever you turn this child’s world offers a depiction of life as nothing more than a rat race, a desperate scramble to make what one can for oneself regardless of others. In his world it would seem all that has value is in bringing pleasure to oneself.

The resonating voice of man though, has not drowned out his love. His eyes still hope, his smile still beams his laugh still resounds. At preschool I’ve watched him sprint his hardest simply so he might push a kid on a trike. I’ve caught him walk away from breakfast to carry a toddler to the bathroom. I’ve seen him abandon toys to pick up his friends. I’ve spotted his eyes light up as a bible story hits home and inspires new thinking. I’ve heard him surrender pride to say sorry, to right his wrongs.

No human influence could preserve this boys youth the way it has been preserved. No human display could persuade this child to reject all he has witnessed in life, to believe everything advertised to him as treasure is garbage compared to life’s potential. And yet frequently this kid tosses aside earthly comforts in order to bless those around him. If I said the world hasn’t taken it toll on him, it would be a lie, his innocence has taken blows, there are struggles and there are hurts, he understands more than any boy should. But God has protected his youth, built in him an empathy that acts, that loves. I own that I don’t have the power to protect his hope, joy, energy or love so I pray that as he sheds his youth God will continue to build his faith and his heart for others. God will continue giving him the strength to toss aside the ways of his earthly father and embrace those of his Heavenly Father.

This profile is only the surface of one story, one story of one child of eighty in preschool here. Eighty kids, exposed to depravity that seems to have this nation trapped, inescapably. These kids need lots of uplifting, lots of prayer, all of this nation does. I’m asking everyone for prayer and I’d like to challenge you to check out Maranatha’s sponsorship program. The sponsorship program is incredible theres no overhead because there is no staff state side, all your money goes to to buying kids food, curriculum, toys and paying their Haitian teachers. Check it out http://mcmhaiti.org/getinvolved.php Thanks!