It’s hard to live up to the world’s elusive standards.

We wonder if anything about us is enough.

We wonder if we’ll ever be good enough, strong enough, tough enough, sensitive enough, or smart enough to bear the weight of the world.

The measuring stick’s out. And we know, we just know we don’t measure up. There’s no way, no way we can meet those standards. We fall short, judge ourselves against the biggest, the baddest, the brightest on the playing field. We work hard to become better, attain whatever it is we believe will make us whole, worthy, acceptable. It’s hard work, and sometimes it’s even exciting, fulfilling and exhilarating work. But even in all that, even after we’ve done our best, worked our hardest, there’s still a part of us that feels we could’ve done better, we could’ve done more, we weren’t quite good enough. We ask the inevitable question, is it enough to just be myself? Or will I constantly have to be better, go further, longer, harder to meet the standards of this world?

Yes, that’s the space I want to address today.

The space that whispers quietly, but persistently – You’re not enough. You didn’t do enough. You just don’t measure up. You’re not good enough. Nothing. about you. is. enough. It‘s all a bunch of lies. That’s right. A bunch of lies.

Those ugly words? They leave you in a constant state of defeat. And that’s never a good place to be.

So let’s go there. Let’s unpack those dirty old lies – I’m not enough, you’re not enough.

And I’m starting with me. Yep, that’s right. I’m about to toss all those lies out, right into the trash pile. The enemy of my soul wants me to be stuck in a place of defeat, of never being enough, and I’m tired of it. He will not win this battle. So I’m tossing his lies out the door. Right now.

Let me be clear. These are lies.

This is how I feel about those lies. And this is what I’m going to do with those lies.

You’re not enough.

Kicking it in the trash pile.

You’re not good enough. You’ll never be good enough. Just keep working harder and harder and harder. Don’t stop. Never stop. You’ll never be good enough. Never. Keep working until you’re dry to the bone, until every drop’s dried. Do it. Do it. You’ll never live up to the standard of good. Never. But you better keep trying because that’s what good girls do. They work hard and they always do good. Just be quiet. Say less. Be more. Do more. Work harder. Keep striving. Never stop. You’re not good enough, so keep working, keep working, keep working.

Enough. Kicking it to the trash pile.

All those roles you play? You’re most definitely NOT good enough in any of them.

Garbage toss.

Epic mom failure? Yep. Not always the mom you thought you’d be? Yep. Try harder. Never fail. Be hard on yourself, that’s what you have to do when you’re a mom. Never a break for the weary mom. Keep working mom. You’re never enough. Kids made a mistake? It’s your fault. You didn’t say enough, do enough, try hard enough, watch closely enough or pray hard enough to make the kids behave well enough. Kids had a victory? Good job! But keep working! A mom’s work is never done. No rest for the weary. Keep trying because you’ll never know when they’ll fall. You’ll never know when your best won’t be nearly enough. So never let down. Never give in. And keep your guard up. Because being a mom’s the biggest job of your life and there’s always something lurking around the corner. Don’t mess up because if they’re not enough, you’re not enough.

All those expectations, all that pressure? Tossing it out.

Epic friend failure? Yep. Totally not a good enough friend. Wasn’t there for her child’s hospital stay, had no idea how her marriage crumbled, didn’t know she was getting divorced until it was nearly complete, had no idea how this or that happened and now you feel like an idiot for asking because so much time’s passed, let the ball drop on those get togethers, let months and years pass without contact? Epic failures. Epic, epic failures. So not a good enough friend. The elusive bar you’ve set for adult friendship? Completely unattainable.

Toss the guilt. Toss those expectations, again. Toss the bar that marks good enough, not good enough.

And that house. Oh my. Never good enough. Always too dirty. You won’t ever be able to get it clean, or keep it clean. But you’d better keep working. Because you know, if you keep working, you might just be able to make it happen. There might come a time when you’ve cleaned well enough that everyone will finally say YES! That’s good enough! Great job! You finally did it! The house is clean once and for all! Excellent work! Thank you so much for keeping this house clean enough! So keep working. It’s always dirty, there’s always more laundry, the kitchen counter’s always a disaster in the making. It’s never. good. enough. You’ve never. done. enough. So keep doing. Keep moving. Keep cleaning every second you can.

Toss it. Out the door. Go. Now.

All those dreams you hope for? All those plans you have for your future? Let me tell you…you’re not good enough. You’re not smart enough or clever enough, and you’re most definitely not funny enough. You’re not nearly as eloquent, and not nearly as put together as she is. You’d never be able to motivate like that, connect like that, write like that, or speak your mind like that. You’re not Christian enough for them, and you’re too Christian for them. And you can’t keep up with any of them. So just drop it and get it out of your mind. Those not enoughs? Maybe they’re true. Not enough. Not enough. Not enough.

So ugly. Oh so ugly. Such horrible lies. Toss them like the wind. Toss them.

Then come all the random not good enoughs. Don’t wear high heels enough. Don’t wear sweat pants enough. Don’t wear your hair down enough. Don’t prepare homemade dinners for your family enough. Don’t buy or prepare organic food enough. Don’t worry about GMOs enough. Don’t watch your kids’ diet closely enough. Don’t chill enough. Don’t drink enough. Don’t come party with us enough. Don’t give enough. Don’t volunteer enough. Don’t keep up with the mail pile and finances, the photo albums and weeds in the garden well enough.

Blah. Ugh. What a weight. Toss ’em.

It’s enough to kill a person, isn’t it? This burden of not enough?

So you sit. You find yourself on the ground, lifeless, next to this trash pile of not enoughs. You know, there’s GOT to be a better way. You admit – I’ve had it. This. is enough.

You allow yourself a moment. To sit. And be with the trash. You call it what it is. Trash. Pure trash.

You realize – the enemy’s lies have held you captive for far too long.

You’re worth much more than this.

The trash leaves you empty, hollow, lifeless.

You must rest. And then you must go.

Get away from the trash piles and never come back.

And don’t you dare start a new pile wherever you go next.

Because you’re so enough.

You’re so enough, even when the world and all the evidence says you’re not.

So that weight of the world you’ve been trying to bear? It is not. yours. to bear.

Believe it.

Rest.

And know.

God is good. He sent Jesus to witness our burdens for Himself. He bore the weight of the cross, this Good Friday, so we could be rescued from everything about us that’s too much and not enough.

Good news is on its way, folks. Good news is on its way.

Amy

We’re working through a week-long series titled “I’m Too Much, Not Enough.” In Part 1 of this series, we talked about different ways we believe that everything about us is just Too Much. In Part 2, we went deeper into the real life implications of this too much, not enough business. In Part 4, we’ll explore why we truly are. enough. Hallelujah!!

I freed up 21 days for rebirth.

I spent 19 days thinking, praying, reviewing journals, writing in journals, digging up evidence from the past, compiling quotes I’d gathered from the past two years, listening to podcasts, and watching Christian speakers and motivational videos on YouTube. I met with wise counsel, witnessed a 17-year-old live out her own God-sized dream, finished two books and started a third, and dug deeper into scripture. Heck, I even took my first webinar.

My time in reflection was desperately needed. And it was extremely productive in a soul searching kind of way.

By day 19, I had clarity. Complete clarity between me and God.

I’d set this time apart, and He’d set apart everything I needed to know to move forward into this rebirth.

But between days 19 and 21, things became muddied, for reasons I can’t reveal now, but hopefully someday, to give another hope – that God’s dreams for you really can come true, even when they’ve been muddied up momentarily.

This wasn’t what I expected. Not on day 19. Not when I was planning to return to blogging on day 21. Not when I’d planned big movement forward this week.

My plans, (seemed) ruined. My hopes, dashed. My expectations, unfulfilled, yet again.

I felt alone. Like it was just me and God. Like I was back at square one. After all that. Back at square one.

But then I was reminded, the clarity I received during those 19 days is irreplaceable. The evidence still remains. My heart still says yes. God still put the pieces together, and they remain true, today.

As I sat there, late that night of the 19th day, in my writing spot on the far left end of the long couch, feeling crazy, tears running down my face, feeling like it was all for naught, my dreams and rebirth and hopes and plans down the drain, like I was back to square one with a heck of a lot of work to do to get peace and clarity again, I heard this whisper…

I want you to believe this is possible. I’m calling you. You’ve been called.

I grabbed my computer. I needed to write this down. To know, remember, the first words of clarity that came to me in these moments of despair. I opened up the document where I’d written everything, the document where all the evidence I’d gathered was in one place, so I could prove to myself God truly did have a plan to rebirth my life.

I scrolled to the bottom.

And typed the sentence.

I want you to believe this is possible. I’m calling you. You’ve been called.

I sat still for a moment. The words kept coming. In an instant, without thinking it through, I decided to close my eyes, type the words I was hearing, the words I believed God might be speaking to my heart and soul in these muddied up moments.

I typed and typed and never once opened my eyes. I felt like a translator. Any word that came to my mind, I typed it. Every word. There was no editing. If I heard it, I typed it. When the words subsided, I opened my eyes. It’d been 34 minutes since I first started typing.

And this. is what I typed (pacing and punctuation is completely organic, unedited)…

I want you to believe this is possible. I’m calling you. You’ve been called. I need you to trust, believe. Know you are loved. Receive it. Believe it. Feel it. I love you deeply. Know that wherever you are, I am. I am. for you. I love you. Believe it. Know it. Feel it. There’s no need to perform. No need to act. Just be, Amy. Sit. Be with me dear. Stop this working hard, trying hard. I don’t ask you to try hard. I don’t ask you to work harder. I ask you to be. With me. Follow. Me. Trust. Me. Believe. Me. Know. Me. 

Believe when I say. I’ve called you. Believe it. There’s nothing more to say. Believe it.

Amy, you’re in the boat. I’m asking you. Come. Now. Trust. I’m here. I’m not asking you to jump. I’m asking you to come. Closer. Trust. Watch me. Watch how I love you. Watch how I sense you. Watch how I connect with you. Know. I’m here. 

Sit. And calm yourself. Be comforted by my presence. Trust I’m taking you at a pace that’s right for you. Don’t rush. Just follow. Me. You’re so tired. Lean. Lean in. You need me now more than ever. I’ve got your back. I have your hand. I’m sitting right here. 

Just be. Sit. Rest. I’m here. I know. I’ve been here before. 

Calm yourself. Calm. Know I’m here. You don’t have to perform. You’re no act for me. I’m gracious. Peace flows through me like a river. I hold no judgement for you. I seek nothing from you. But trust. 

Amy, love. Just be. In me. Stop the game. It’s not about the game. See?

It’s me. Here. Near. 

Amy, my love. You need to know. You’re not cooky, you’re not crazy. You haven’t gone off the deep end. You see, you’re with me. With me isn’t safe. But with me, you’ll find freedom. With me, you’ll find peace. With me, you’ll be. 

So Amy, dear Amy. Take care of yourself. Don’t rush. It’s in my hands. I’ve got it. 

Believe.

Be free. of it all. Worry not, dear one. Time will tell. You’ve waited. And I’ll have you wait more. For you are a patient servant. This I know. You don’t want to be patient, I know. You’re tired. You’re weary from the wait. But Amy, please, you must know. I’m here, even in the wait. 

I know. 

I hear you.

I’m desperate. For you not to work. But to trust. I’m desperate for you to know, you’re loved. I’m desperate fro you to know, you can count on me. When all else fails. Me. So believe. 

Take a breath.

Be.

Trust. 

Feel.

Know that I’m with you. 

Understand, it’s in my hands. I will reveal.

Feel.

Sit in my presence.

Lay it down.

Believe, Amy. Believe.

You’ve got this. I’ve got this.

You’re in another realm. 

And no, you’re not crazy.

Believe that.

Know that.

Trust that.

I see.

All I’ve made you to be.

It’s beautiful.

I’m waiting. 

It’s not time. 

Not yet.

Just wait. A bit.

Seek me. and all these things will be added unto you.

That’s what he said, isn’t it? That pastor who reminded you what’s most important.

Seek me. And all these things will be added unto you.

So be.

Our journey, it’s not done.

Listen. Walk. Walk with me.

You’ve got to trust. Trust that I have a plan. Trust the timing will be. Trust. 

For kingdom work is hard. There’s no easy way. They won’t understand. But I do.

So go. Be a light. Do what you need to do. Follow my commands. And trust. I’ve got you. Know. I’m here. Believe, I see you.

Be. 

You.

It’s not a game.

It’s not a play.

I am. the real deal.

I speak to you in words you understand.

I’m in the boat. W’ere here, together. I’m smiling. I truly am. I have no doubt. Cast the net. Cast it.

Do what it takes. You’ve got to believe. I’ve got you.

You’re so not trusting, so not believing.

But I got you.

Come. Closer.

Hear me speak. You are called.

It’s not possible, it’s true. 

So believe.

Hear me. Hear me.

You are called.

You are called.

You are called.

You. Are. Called.

You. Are. Called. 

That’s what I needed you to hear. That’s what I wanted you to hear. So go. GO daughter. Live it. Speak it. Do it. Do what it takes. Work at it. Live it. Feel it. Receive it. Believe it. For I am here. I am with you. I see you. I know your trials. I know your pain. I’m with you. You must trust. You must go. You must do. You must believe. Believe. 

Now go.

Go.

Go.

Go.

So today, though my logical and emotional self wanted to tell you, my dear readers, that I couldn’t come back yet, that I needed to take more of a break to get my head on straight all over again – I’ve decided to come back, in faith. Because God’s said – trust, believe, go – He’s got me. So I must. He’s provided clarity. Now I just need to trust He’ll help me work it out.

And maybe, today, you need to read those words, inserting your name for mine, knowing you’re held, loved, seen as beautiful and worthy by God. If that’s you? Do it. He speaks words of life and hope over you and in you, too.

Blessings.

Amy

With the birth of each of our children, came a rebirth of me.

I worked full-time until the birth of our first child in 2002. It was then that I realized, for the first time in my life, that I might not want to be a full-time work outside of the home mama. My mom worked full-time her entire life, so I assumed I’d do the same. My husband and I had purchased a home, and hadn’t planned our finances around me staying home in any capacity. But I knew right away, as soon as our son was born – I didn’t want to work full-time anymore. I wanted to stay home more. I worked full-time for a year and a half after that first maternity leave. And then my husband got a raise, just enough for me to stay home one day a week, so I reduced my work to four days per week.

It felt just right. And I was grateful for more time with my baby boy.

With the birth of each of our children, came a rebirth of me.

I worked four days a week until the birth of our second child in 2005. After a 12-week maternity leave at home with our daughter, I returned to my four days a week position. I remained solid in that position for one more full year. My husband was deep in the trenches with his work, and just weeks before I’d found out I was pregnant with our daughter, our entire family began managing what would become six years of the worst of my sister’s mental health and addiction issues. Add my four day a week workload, and it felt like way too much. I knew something had to change. So I made a dramatic move. I took a formal leave of absence, and cut all the way back to one day per week of work. Working one day a week worked really well for two whole years. But then my leave came to an end and I was informed, given the shortage of professionals in my field, my employer needed me back, full-time. There were no part-time options, so I opted to resign and open my own private practice.

The time was right. And I was grateful as I’d always envisioned myself in private practice somewhere along the way anyway.

With the birth of each of our children, came a rebirth of me.

I started and maintained my private practice, working 2-3 days per week, until the birth of our third child, another baby girl in 2011. At this point, we’d been through a lot. I’d been through a lot. We’d spent years managing unbelievable trauma and drama with my sister, she’d had a baby, and things had finally stabilized to the point they were manageable. For years, it seemed there was no way we could add another baby to the picture, but I didn’t feel “done” having kids and our biological clocks were ticking. So we thought hard and prayed hard. The answer was yes. It was indeed time for another baby. After I returned from maternity leave in March 2012, I continued seeing patients two days a week, and did everything else that needed to be done for the private practice when I could fit it in. (And for the most part, that remains true today.)

But things were different this third time around.

You see, after all those years of trauma and drama, after all those years of waiting, I realized what a gift we had in our baby girl. I knew and had a strong sense, for the first time in my life, that if God blessed me so richly with this baby girl, maybe He had other beautiful plans for me, maybe there were other things I was supposed to do that would fulfill me as richly and as deeply as this baby girl? Maybe He’d planned beauty from all this pain?

So I picked up the bits and pieces of a dream that had been building since the birth of our baby boy in 2002.

I’d just returned from maternity leave, and baby girl was only three-months-old. I knew it was kind of crazy, this starting something new and big when I’d just had a baby and was trying to adjust to work, again, as mama of three. Baby was still a baby, I had two other little ones, and my husband had begun a big corporate job. But God called anyway, it’s time.

So in April 2012, after seeking wise counsel, I decided, it was time to launch this blog. In-between work and dance class and baseball and changing diapers and everything else, I worked my butt off getting ready to launch this thing.

In July 2012, I launched the blog. It was no small thing as far as I was concerned. The blog was important to me, and I valued it immeasurably. It was part of a dream I’d been visioning, at that time, for nine years already.

So that brings me to today, to this post.

I’ve decided to take a three week break from blogging.

Because I know, with the birth of each of our children, comes a rebirth of me.

And while I’ve without a doubt been working towards that rebirth of me, it hasn’t happened yet.

I’ve known, for 19 months, that it’s time for rebirth. But my rebirth is different this time. It’s not just a matter of making a few adjustments and I’ll be good to go.

It’s a matter of handing my life over to God and saying – what would you have me do next?

It’s a matter of deciding – am I going to continue thinking I’m all in, or am I actually going to live all in?

It’s a matter of believing and trusting, truly following this Jesus I say I believe in.

So I’m sitting in this boat. Jesus is smiling so slightly with his gentle, gracious and patient spirit. He’s looking at me. He’s waiting. He says “give me an hour, and I’ll change your life.”

And I’m here, still deciding if I’m going to give him “this hour.” Am I ready to give it to Him, or not?

And you, my readers? You’ve found me here, in this in-between place, in this moment of deciding what’s next.

In this in-between place, in this moment of deciding, I’ll be doing practical things, logistical things, and hard things.

What are the practical things? I’ll be attending my nephew’s baptism, celebrating my daughter’s golden birthday, and spending a week with my kids during their spring break. Just as important, I’m desperate to keep my promise and call my friend, Denise, with whom I haven’t chatted for way too long.

What are the logistical things? If time allows, I’ll be updating my Meet Amy and Blog Vision pages on the blog. I’ll also be working on finalizing plans for my second annual Special Mamas series in May.

What are the hard things? I’ll be spending time in reflection and praying, hard. I’ll be reading scripture and books, reviewing old diaries, journals, and blog posts. I’d like to spend some time journaling, without editing, without an audience, to better discern what’s next. And I’m seeking wise counsel, because I can’t do this alone.

Oh ya, I might open that bottle of champagne that’s been sitting in the fridge since December 6th, and enjoy it with my husband some night. 🙂

Thank you for understanding, thank you for reading today and any other day you’ve read in the past, and know I’ll be back.

As of now, I plan to return to the blog on Wednesday, April 9th, but if I need more time, I’ll take it.

If you’re new to the site, or haven’t had a chance to read as many of my posts as you’d like, I recommend reading the two series that reflect my writing and heart best to-date, Letters to the Unthanked and Journey to Haiti. If you’d like to contact me for any reason while I’m gone, please don’t hesitate! All of my contact information can be found on the Connect page on my blog.

Blessings to you all.

Amy

“I’m thinking a mid-life crisis is not so much a crisis as it is an awakening. Either you’re upset where you’ve landed and you perceive you’re stuck there for the rest of your life, or you’re wide awake and ready to use your wisdom to launch you into an even better second half. I strive to be the latter.”

Post from my personal Facebook page – May 25, 2013

Amy

*This is the final post from a month-long series about my journey to Haiti. Click here to read all the posts in the series.

*Music courtesy of Ft. Alex Boye, Africanized Symphonic Cover of Adele’s Set Fire to the Rain

He has made everything beautiful in its time. He has also set eternity in the human heart; 

yet no one can fathom what God has done from beginning to end.  Ecclesiastes 3:11

God makes no mistakes.

He orchestrates every detail of our lives.

He knows exactly who to bring into our lives and when, so we become more of who He created us to be.

It’s been 12 days since I met Kednaud. Out of all the translators I could’ve been assigned, God chose Kednaud. It was truly a divine appointment.

Kednaud spent an entire day with me. It was arguably the most important day of my trip to Haiti, the day I met our sponsored children. He translated every word I uttered, every word our two sponsored children uttered, and every word uttered by a mama, auntie, nurse, and project director. Add up all of those words across an entire day, and you’ll begin to grasp the thousands of words Kednaud translated.

I was grateful for Kednaud’s presence and assistance, truly grateful.

The only words he didn’t know how to translate from English to French Creole were “pink” and “swimsuit.” That accounts for an entire day of translating words. I’d say that’s beyond impressive.

I’ve worked with translators before for my work as a speech-language pathologist, so this translation was nothing foreign to me. But this experience of working with a translator all day, non-stop? It was beyond amazing. The Compassion staff reminded us that these were not just translators, they were “relationship builders,” and that’s exactly what Kednaud was.

But there’s something more I want you to know about Kednaud. You see, he wasn’t JUST my translator that day.

I believe God sent Kednaud to be my translator because there was something He desperately wanted to show me, show us, in the moments in-bewteen translation.

God arranged moments in-between translation for me to connect with Kednaud. When everyone else was using the restroom, when everyone else was helping the kids change into their bathing suits, when everyone else was helping the kids change into their clothes, when everyone else was getting a second helping of food, and after everyone else had been given gifts, Kednaud and I were blessed with small moments to connect about things that matter most.

What are the things that matter most? They’re things that connect us as human beings, regardless of our gender, regardless of where we were born, regardless of our possessions, regardless of any circumstance.

Kednaud’s friends tease him, joke that He’s not fully Haitian. He “gets” American culture. He has friends that are from America, and they’ve invited him to come and live in the United States. They’ll even buy him a house if he’ll move to America. It’s tempting, but he knows. He’s Haitian. He loves his country and he doesn’t want to leave. He’s meant to stay here, in Haiti.

So he translates for American visitors, he values the opportunity to engage and develop relationship with Americans who visit and build homes in Haiti.

And God’s placed on Kednaud’s heart a big God-sized dream. Kednaud dreams of learning 21 languages. He’s already learned four, and knows what his fifth will be, Italian. Because education is expensive and finances are limited, Kednaud works on one language at a time, as he’s able to afford. He takes courses online, through a website called Babbel, where he learns each language and earns a certificate that proves his proficiency.

Kednaud understands. His dream to learn 21 languages is big. It’s a dream most might think is unattainable, especially considering his circumstances. But he believes, I believe, that ALL things are possible with God, through Christ.

I shared about this “God-sized dream” talk in America, how God places dreams on our hearts that seem big, unattainable through the lens of human eyes, but that we trust, knowing anything is possible with God.

We both looked up towards the sky, stating out loud, agreeing as brother and sister in Christ, that yes – anything. is possible. with God. There was peace and joy in this agreement. And that was the first moment I knew, God had me meeting Kednaud, and Kednaud meeting me for a very special purpose. To propel both of us further, with confidence, towards His dreams for us.

Kednaud plays drums. He’s in a band, and he writes songs. And as you might guess, he loves American music. The most perfect medley of songs played throughout the day with our sponsored children. Bryan Adams’ “Everything I Do,” Louis Armstrong’s “What a Wonderful World,” and The Jackson 5’s “I’ll be There” played as we frolicked in the pool for the first time ever, played games that united young and old, and shared a great feast together.

Then, it was time to present the families with gifts I’d brought from home. First was Bethchaida. The joy on her face was indescribable. And sweet Djino. I’ll never forget the way he smiled bashfully when I showed him the motorycycle shirt I’d brought for him, the way he bent over, kissed me on the cheek and said “merci.” Kednaud was there, and captured it all in words and photographs.

But there was something missing. I’d promised Kednaud a special gift, too. There was a song, it came to me in the moment we were talking about American music. And I knew I needed to share it with Kednaud. I’d just downloaded it from iTunes a few weeks prior to coming to Haiti; it’s the song that’s resonated most with my spirit these days.

So I ran. I literally ran back to the place where I had my iPhone and headphones. Because the clock was ticking. I’d used up all but 15 minutes of time with my sponsored children and their accompanying adults, and I didn’t want to miss a minute. But I wanted to keep my promise to Kednaud. I wanted to give him this gift, I wanted him to hear this song. So yes, I ran, and then I ran back, iPhone and headphones in tow.

I turned it to this song, Just Say Jesus, and gave Kednaud the headphones.

I sat with the children, the mama and the auntie gathered the gifts, and as we all sat together, speechless, in these last moments, Kednaud pressed play.

The music started. My heart raced. This was the song I’d promised. I had no idea why it was the only song that’d come to me when I learned Kednaud’s dreams and love for music, but this was the song I needed to share.

And that’s when he began. As the words and tune met his ears for the first time, he smiled, his face lit up. He air drummed, and he air drummed some more, non-stop, until the song was done.

He loved it. My gift had been received. God’s gift, to both of us, had been received.

The day had been worthy of a million pictures, and this moment was as worthy as any other. So we snapped a photo of another moment I’ll never forget, a moment that needed no translation.

God unites his children in the most unusual and unexpected ways. He tailors our experiences uniquely. Because He’s the one that created us. He knows our innermost being. He knows our heart and He owns the dreams He’s placed there. He’s the only one who can translate, when words just don’t suffice.

I saw so much of myself in Kednaud. We share a love for words, for music. Kednaud’s only part Haitian, and I’m only part American; we rest in peace knowing our eternal citizenship is in heaven. We share God-sized dreams that seem impossible, but we know in our hearts, without translation, that anything is possible with God.

Amy

*This is part of a month-long series about my journey to Haiti. Click here to read all the posts in the series.