Painting

Wednesday afternoon, most of the crew donned "paint clothes" - white t-shirts and shorts/capris - and headed off to sand down concrete walls. ("Wax on. Wax off. Wax on. Wax off.") Fun times in construction land. We did, however, get super spiffy blue masks that prevented the breathing in of the dust.

And, not one kid complained.

They blinked a load and a half of concrete dust out of their eyes and pulled off the masks dozens of times to wipe down sweaty faces. They made snarky comments and stood on things that probably should not have been stood on had we been in America. But, when they were asked to go back and go over it all again, when you could feel their exhaustion radiating like a heat wave, they bit their tongues, nodded, and worked until it was fixed.

Then they laughed at newly grey hair, downed some energy drink, and got ready to paint. Because, these kids don't stop until they are flat out instructed to do so.

"Your people will rebuild the ancient ruins 
    and will raise up the age-old foundations; 
you will be called Repairer of Broken Walls, 
    Restorer of Streets with Dwellings." Isaiah 58:12

Thursday, we piled all but two of us into the backs of the pick-ups and bounced further up the mountain than we had been, up stretches of road that were nothing but hard packed dirt and mathenge trees, past villages where houses were made of woven poles and mud bricks, through a new level of rural poverty from what we had previously seen in Haiti, poverty that existed largely untouched by the earthquake. 

And,  we landed at a concrete house that belonged to one of the interpreters. Three simple rooms, but beautifully crafted and fitted with carefully carved doors from the wood shop on the compound. 

Within moments, it was clear that their was neither space nor tools for the entire team to work. They wanted to give, but there was nothing to give themselves to. And, then, God showed up. 

A little girl from VBS came and searched the house until she found "her" blanc, and her eyes lit up with a hundred watt smile. For an hour and a half, as we traded off painting jobs, the house rang with laughter and choruses of "Jezi Remen'm" ("Jesus Loves Me" - but not the version that we know in the States). 

"Allelujiah! ah! ah! ah! Jezi remen'm!" They would jump onto a back, show off a trick on the bed, let themselves be tickled until they collapsed in fits of giggles, or pull a lap onto the floor and settle in for the world's briefest nap. 

Exactly one week after taking off from Tri-town, eighteen people were here, a team that trusted that they wouldn't let one another fall out of the truck, no matter what size of bump we hit; that knew the contents of each other's backpacks; that could identify water bottles instantly; and could read each other like family. They were here, painting and sanding and playing with kids - and leaving the leaders to wonder at the light that was in them and drew people like moths to a flame. 

Love. Joy. Peace. Patience. Kindness. Faithfulness. Gentleness. Self Control. 

Earlier in the week, one of our kids asked me how to "prove" God to an atheist friend. This. This light is how you demonstrate God. Because, if you live this way, God will prove Himself. This light is what we mean when we say that you should look "different." This is what it means to look like Jesus.