And I could hear the question again, "Are you willing to be disturbed?" I didn't have to think about it this time, it was just so obvious for me. I would allow myself to be disturbed...deeply.
In those first hours, I had no way of knowing that I was going to be hit with my own earthquake. That mentally, emotionally and spiritually I was going to be turned upside down, crushed, scrambling for some level of stability. Yes, Haiti had indirectly been a part of my life. My husband had been there once and my son, twice, helping to build a multi-purpose facility. So I knew of places and people and poverty, but I had never been there...never lived their life, tasted their fear, succumbed to their hunger. Suddenly, I was there, or they were here...in my backyard, or so it seemed. And I COULDN'T ignore them...didn't want to. Honestly, I didn't know what to do.
So I prayed. Oh God, I prayed...deep laments in my spirit for a people struck once again by intense suffering, death and hopelessness.
And I questioned. Everything. Not about where God was when the earthquake hit or what He was going to do with this open grave, but questions about me. Questions about what I was going to do. Should we sell our cottage and send the money to Haiti? What about our home and all that we have? Most of my home is full of my "wants" not my "needs"! How much do I REALLY need? There are scriptural challenges to give all that we have to the poor. Who does that apply to? Is it me? What about my love for shopping? How can I possibly purchase something for me, when I have so much already?
I would walk into areas of my home where items were stored, and I felt sick. How can I have stuff just sitting here when these people have nothing?! I would walk into the grocery store and just want to take the entire building and ship it off to Haiti.
And then someone would remind me that we live HERE. But that would only spurn more questions. Why? Why am I blessed to live here and they are destined to live THERE? Why, why, why, why?
It was a puzzle way beyond my ability to put together. It still is. For the most part, I am not in the frenzy I was, when those questions first began churning in my mind, but they are still there. I am no closer to answers today, than several months ago. I have made changes, and some of them are life-altering, but it's not enough. At least that's how I feel. When is enough...enough? Is it ever enough?
I don't like questions. I like answers. But I'm learning to live with the questions, as Rainer Marie Rilke describes in "Letters to a Young Poet":
"Be patient toward all that is unsolved in your heart and try to love the questions themselves like locked rooms and like books that are written in a very foreign tongue. Do not seek the answers, which cannot be given you because you would not be able to live them. Live the questions now. Perhaps you will then gradually, without noticing it, live along some distant day into the future."So here I am...living the questions...one day at a time...searching the Trinity for how they want to lead me through the disturbances of my heart.
