for those days when life seems to spin too fast. #littlethingsmatter

It feels as if I was just writing while the world outside was covered in a thick blanket of never ending snow. Winter, last year, was one of those winters that makes one finally begin to understand Laura Ingalls Wilder's words in the book The Long Winter. I would write lamenting about the constant series of domino falling over days where the outside was too dreary to step into and my kids were going stir crazy and I'd dream about summer and them running around burning off all of that cooped inside energy.

And now, now it's almost the end of July.

Somehow time slipped by.

It moved like sand through my fingers - constantly moving - and yet it felt as if there was always so much time. Summer was going to be inevitably long. So I thought.

Yet, here I am, walking through Target as the Back to School display is stocked with pens and pencils and notebooks and kids inside asking when the leaves are going to change colors and a garden that was so carefully planted in those days after the snow finally left that is now bearing beans and tomatoes and onions.

And my to do list of things to do with my kids is barely scratched.

Where did the time go? The busy? Life spins so fast at times.

There have been so many in a minutes from me. Or when I get backs. Or laters. Or how about this afternoon? Or after lunch? Or maybe tomorrows.

Motherhood, sigh motherhood. Full of good intentions and plans and agendas and really hard days and totally awesome days (as my Samuel would say) and days where one wants to throw in the towel and days where one wants to simply stop time for just one moment so the moment could last.

As I looked at the to-do list of summer things I began to think about all the things I didn't accomplish. All those things I wanted to do with them. And yet, then, then when I watch them I see children who are happy. Content.

They love the little things.

The moments in life.

The times on the boat as the water slipped underneath. Going under a bridge and hearing cars speed overhead. Racing out with me in the morning to see if our raspberries were ripe. Ice cream late at night with extra chocolate sauce. Books read over and over and over. Walks around the block. Water fights in the backyard. The big box of Playmobil brought in from the garage and dumped out over the floor. Playing Angry Birds in the morning. Going to the store with me. Coffee and lattes outside of Starbucks.

Little things matter.

When the days spin so fast sometimes it's easy to forget to see the power of the little things, the simple every single day moments in our lives.

Today, today you will have a day full of moments. Little breaths, little jewels hidden in the pile of the ordinary. And if you are like me you will miss them most of the time.

I see the things that don't seem to work so often. The frustrating moments. The lists not done.

And I miss the joy on my almost four year old's face. And the laughter of my girls as they watch the original Star Trek series at night. And the excitement as the sprinkler is turned on and little ones run through the cooling water in the heat of July. Little things.

Too often I see the messy living room with the books strewn on the floor and the legos that I inevitably will step on and get irritated about and the kitchen with dishes in the sink that should have been done hours ago and the lawn that needs to be mowed and laundry that needs to be folded and a little boys room that was clean at night that now has a pile of clothes on the floor from the almost six year old looking for his favorite shirt.

My eyes saw the work. Not the beauty.

So I've worked to train my eyes to see the joy in the middle of what often feels like spinning too fast chaos.

Life will never be perfect.

We have to look for the joy. Finding it, moment after moment after moment. It won't just appear - it's a posture, a way of living, and seeking. It's being willing to let our ideal to-do list of things to accomplish go and instead being willing to sit just a bit longer with that almost six year old in your arms.

So today, today it will probably be a bit crazy. Expect that. There will probably be great moments. Expect them. And challenging moments. Yes, really expect them (especially if you are in any phase of potty training). And boring moments. And you've got to be kidding moments. And moments where you do the same thing again and again. Expect the incredible smorgasboard of moments in the middle of ordinary.

And in all of the race are these little moments, little things, that matter.

Start seeing those.

That's the challenge on those life spinning too fast racing by days.

Little things matter.

Today, look for the little things. Write them down. Celebrate the ordinary.

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Images and original content are sole property of Rachel Martin and may not be used, copied or transmitted without prior written consent.

Why cooking and laundry changed my life. #Haiti Day 5

(If you share one post from my Haiti journey - this is the one. My yesterday changed my life.)

I didn't even like typing day five in my title. My heart has fallen in love with Haiti and this amazing culture. And yesterday? Yesterday was perhaps one of the best days of my life. Words to describe it to you will not due justice. But, I will try to articulate the beauty and life lessons from my blessed day.

Because yesterday brought more perspective. Perspective is good. Yesterday changed my life.

When we lose perspective we start to grumble about the little things. 
When we have perspective we start to be grateful for the little things.

Think about that.

Where is your perspective on life?  And then read this and find out how mine shifted forever.

I was given the gift, and I say gift, to work with nine Haitian women preparing meals for the teams on our missions trips. I was dropped off, introduced via a translator, and then left in that sweltering outdoor kitchen with these women. Me, the American who quickly forgot that konmen yo di sa'a? meant how do you say? So I was left with pointing. And one sweet women, Juliette, in the mint green dress next to me, who knew my name and called me Ray-Shell  had patience with me. She also quickly learned the word Stop as otherwise I didn't know what to do and would probably keep stirring whatever they were cooking.

So they welcomed me in. Started to find tasks for me to do. I started with cutting pineapple - spiky pineapple where you can't grab the top. And that reminds me - you do NOT need your drawer of utensils - you simply need a large knife and a spoon. That is all they use. They cut the pineapple holding it in their hands. I had to use a tray. They chuckled. I laughed at myself and from that point on they started to warm up to me.

I spent an hour working on beans (second picture) - pulling the strings from the side (using that big knife to start it) and then slicing them on the diagonal. I fried bread fruit - in fact, I made an entire batch by myself. Drained it from the water with my hands, threw it in the hot oil over coal (do not ever complain about your stove/oven again), and then stirred it with that one spoon. Carefully. It was bubbling oil and a blazing hot pan and none of those safety things that we have. But, I got the hang of it and they cheered when my batch was finished.

I got to introduce lunch and dinner meals to the teams because I prepared them. Total joy.

And then I worked for hours rolling these fried hamburger/bread balls with a spoon. In that picture above that is what I was doing. They even got me a stool because they were afraid I was tired, but I just smiled and shook my head no and told them that I was good. Bon. In the beginning I couldn't make those hamburger balls without using my hands.  But, by the end I was almost as fast as them using just a spoon and a bowl. They would look at me and tell me good job and it was an amazing experience of bonding even without speaking.

We became friends in those hours in the blazing hot kitchen.

Everything is done by hand. In fact, one lady was helping me prepare those hamburger meat balls and I noticed a bowl was set aside. No bread was put in it. And then I humbly realized that was my bowl - they were making me gluten free food. So I pointed at the bowl and then me and I said that mwen, mwen. And the look of joy on their faces when they realized that I was the one they were preparing a separate meal for made me teary. And the joy I felt - especially after seeing how hard it was to make meals - that they made gluten free food for me was humbling, incredible, and endearing.

We cooked all day. I mean, all day long. All of us women in the room. They would chat and laugh and I would smile with them and they would pat my shoulder and smile and think of any English word to help me. They knew the word love and one of the girls must have been in love or had a boyfriend because they would point at her and say that and laugh and I would laugh with them. It was amazing as they welcomed me in their community.

Then in the middle of the day they had me help with laundry. Washing the sheets that go on the table for each meal and then some things around the home. They filled bowl with water and powdered soap and I sat on a stool in the middle of the Haitian countryside while I heard the surf crash into the black pebble beach and a peacock (for real) ran in front of me and two cows bellowed behind and I was so incredibly joyful and content.

We scrubbed those clothes and linens by hand. And my hands began to bleed and she helped me with them.

I was humbled.

Do you know that my hands bled within an hour of scrubbing those clothes? One hour and I had raw knuckles. And she washes those tablecloths twice a day.

How many times do I grumble about laundry? I turn a dial and throw clothes in and take them out. I do not think I will ever look at laundry the same. In fact, I am taking the picture of me and blowing it up and putting it in my laundry room above my washing machine.

She never complained. She just worked. Laughed. Helped me.

I want to live that way. Loving life. Not being so concerned about the stuff.

These women loved each other. They loved each other in a way that we need to learn. They didn't care what the other was wearing or what task they were doing. They just worked together, took care of each other, and loved one another.

At the end of the day, another sweet friend (learning their names was so hard for me - I really tried) took me by my hand and led me into the house to the bathroom so I could wash my face. She turned the sink on and then handed me soap and the towel that all of them shared. I was part of them - their group - and they loved me.

I cried.

They didn't exclude me because I was slower at what I was doing. They welcomed me. Embraced me. Loved me for me wanting to help and learn.

They taught me about life.

And so when my Haitian friend Jonas arrived we walked back to that kitchen with a partial aluminum roof and a tarp and a space outside where there are three buckets where you wash and clean things and I asked him to tell them words from me.

I want you to know that I am forever blessed by you opening your arms and kitchen to me. I look at you all as my friends and as my sisters. I will remember this day for the rest of my life. I love you all and am so grateful for today.

And I cried.

Big fat tears rolled down my face and I could hardly talk. In fact, even as I write this tears are rolling down my face.

Please tell them these tears are tears of joy, Jonas.

And they were.

Learn from those women.

Open your arms. Find joy.

Even in laundry and cooking.

It's perspective. And mine forever changed.

***********

To stay up to date with my Haiti Trip make sure to: subscribe by email (click subscribe by email ) You can also follow me on facebook -> finding joy blog or on twitter @finding_joy or on instagram at finding_joy You can also search the hashtag #findingjoyhaiti on instagram to find my pics right away.

Make sure to follow Praying Pelican Mission on their facebook page Praying Pelican Missions and on twitter at PrayingPelican To learn more about Haiti please read Haiti Short-Term Missions.

to receive finding joy via email simply click subscribe.
Images and original content are sole property of Rachel Martin and may not be used, copied or transmitted without prior written consent.

beautiful exhaustion. Haiti Day 4.

My heart cannot believe I have been in Haiti for four days now. It feels like just yesterday that I boarded that plane in Minneapolis bound for Haiti and then in the same breath it feels like I have been here for a very long time.

The Haitian culture becomes more beautiful with each day.

There is something so lovely about being around people who are simply joyful for life. They are not only full of joy, but are also full of kindness and generosity. They want to be with you, to learn about you, and to thank you. My friend, Jim, who is part of Praying Pelican Missions told me this, but I did the smile and nod and we'll see kind of posture, but I told him that it took less than 24 hours for me to fall in love with this country. He was right - they are so real and so wonderful that it is almost impossible to not fall in love with Haiti.

Yesterday was an incredibly busy day. In the morning we headed back up to the church in the mountains and began helping with construction efforts. Let me tell you - the physical labor that we all did that morning was perhaps some of the most draining physical labor I've ever done.

We hauled concrete blocks, some still damp, down the side of that mountain in an assembly line. At first it felt like no big deal, but after even mere minutes my arms were already starting to get fatigued and worn. Block after block came and I couldn't figure how to even grip them so I didn't drop them as I knew dropping them would result in broken toes. So I started to balance them on my arms. And in doing that today I have woken up with forearms with large bruises all over and scratches up to my shoulders. There are bruises on my hips from when I tried to balance them there.

I tell you this because those marks humble me.

I worked at this task for maybe an hour. Sixty minutes. And my body became worn.

The Haitian men that worked never stopped, never complained, and always laughed. They were so thankful for the work - as the money from our offerings on Sunday went to hiring men from the community and providing work. This intense physical work that made me want to stop after minutes was an incredible gift for them. So this morning, those bruises on my arm serve as a reminder to me to be grateful for work. And to work with joy.

And it amazes me how much of that wall was completed in one day. They just worked, didn't argue, there was no red tape - they just got the wall built. I can learn from that attitude.

It's inspiring.

Then in the afternoon the team worked on more kids ministry type projects. The kids are really starting to warm up to everyone and have claimed favorites. My little girls come up running and saying Rah-shell, Rah-shell. They love to play with my hair - by the time I leave the work site I probably will have gone through at least a dozen different styles.

But the highlight for me and for the team and those fabulous kids was when we loaded them all in a bus and drove down the mountain to a flat mango grove and field where the kids could run and play soccer. Riding in that bus with them was amazing.

Their joy could not be contained. They screamed and cheered and chanted and smiled and hugged us the whole way down. And then, then when the bus stopped they just ran and ran and ran and ran.

It was so beautiful.

I don't want to lose sight of these most beautiful and most simple things in life. The gift of work. The freedom to run. The fellowship of being together. The gifts of hugs. Or holding hands. Or looking one in the eye and smiling. These things matter. More than all of the stuff. Oh my goodness, if I have learned anything, these things matter way more than the stuff.

Perspective changes in Haiti.

Mine will never be the same.

Today, the exhaustion I feel is beautiful - it reminds me of real and joyful living.

******

Today the team is going back up the mountain to do more work on the site. Please keep all of us in your thoughts and prayers. It is very easy to get worn or dehydrated quickly here. I have to drink an incredible amount of water just to stay even. And then the team is going to do a repeat of the kids ministry this afternoon. I, on the other hand, will be joining the amazing Haitian women who prepare all of our meals. They've invited me into their kitchen and I will be working side by side with them learning about their lives and helping them cook. I could not be more humbled or joyful about this opportunity.

And, just for fun, yesterday I was able to ride a motorbike in Torbeck. Let me tell you - it was pure joy. I was taken down to the black pebble beach and we drove along the beach as the waves crashed ashore. I told my driver Bebay (I have to get the spelling right) that I would never forget this moment for the rest of my life. Life is amazing.

To stay up to date with my Haiti Trip make sure to: subscribe by email (click subscribe by email ) You can also follow me on facebook -> finding joy blog or on twitter @finding_joy or on instagram at finding_joy You can also search the hashtag #findingjoyhaiti on instagram to find my pics right away.

Make sure to follow Praying Pelican Mission on their facebook page Praying Pelican Missions and on twitter at PrayingPelican To learn more about Haiti please read Haiti Short-Term Missions.

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I found joy. Haiti Day 3.

 

Tonight as I rest in my room and ponder words to share with you about today I've found myself in a strange place of being at a loss for words. It's not because I have nothing to write about, but rather because today far surpassed expectations that now I simply do not know what, when, and how to start to share. So I will tell you one thing.

I found joy.

A real joy, a deep joy, and a joy that I've never experienced before.

It was high in the mountains outside Port Salut. The church that we are serving is literally tucked on the side of the mountain. You park on the road and hike down a narrow and steep path to the church and then to get to the next part you hike down even a steeper cliff. It's like stairs almost. And then it just tumbles down a hillside of the mountain.

It is breathtaking.

And in that church, in the morning, the Haitian people were overjoyed to see us. They had made signs in English hanging from the walls and intricately cut chains of paper. But, beyond that, it was their genuine delight and appreciation for our team arriving that amazed me.

They loved us without even knowing us.

And so we sat in that church together and we sang praises in two different languages and we worshiped and out of my window were mountains and a view that is one that words will never describe. And as I sat there emotion began to well in me.

Tear fell from my face.

They were tears of joy. Tears of hope. Tears of gratitude. Tears of amazement.

And I let them fall.

So often I've found myself tucking in those tears with those I'm fine words of life. I'll shove them down and push myself to be stronger or to look like I've got it all together or to ignore the fact that I'm feeling real emotion. But, today, today in a church perched on a hill in Haiti with a group of people who absolutely loved me and didn't even know me - today I let the tears fall.

And in the falling of the tears I found joy.

When the service, which was over two hours but I could have sat there even longer, was over, we were rushed by everyone in that church who wanted to tell us thank you and God bless. Everyone. No one left without kissing my cheek or holding my hand or giving me a hug.

The irony is that here I was to serve - to help them, to partner with the local church and their needs, and to build a new church and school - and yet there I was being blessed beyond my imagination.

They loved me as a sister.

And that made me weep with joy.

******

The powerful part of Praying Pelican Missions is their desire to simply partner with the local church. Therefore as a member of a trip you get to get into the community, get to help with what they need, and are able to come alongside and encourage It is a beautiful partnership and the relationship forged are incredibly strong.

And, I'm learning a bit of Creole. I could listen to it for hours - it is a soothing and lovely language. When the Haitians sang in Creole today they sang loud, proud, and with such joy that it astounded me. Emotions aren't hidden here - they are celebrated.

Tomorrow we go back up the mountain and we start working on the foundation for their new church. We're also doing some kids ministry in the afternoon as well as bussing them down the mountain (as it's so steep) to a flat place where they can play soccer.

Oh yes, and one more highlight from the day? Getting some fresh coconut from a tree, that was opened with a machete, and drinking it right there in the afternoon sun. Simply glorious.

To stay up to date with my Haiti Trip make sure to: subscribe by email (click subscribe by email ) You can also follow me on facebook -> finding joy blog or on twitter @finding_joy or on instagram at finding_joy You can also search the hashtag #findingjoyhaiti on instagram to find my pics right away.

Make sure to follow Praying Pelican Mission on their facebook page Praying Pelican Missions and on twitter at PrayingPelican To learn more about Haiti please read Haiti Short-Term Missions.

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across the mountains. Haiti Day 2.5

Yesterday we made the trek across the mountains of Haiti. I don't know the names of these mountains, but I can tell you that I have never seen more gorgeous or breathtaking scenery ever. The hills were steep and the water the most magnificent blue/green possible. It's such an honor to be here and to learn more about this most beautiful Haitian culture.

The trek began with us going back to the airport to pick up teams that have arrived. My biggest fear upon arriving in Haiti was navigating the airport. And, it wasn't bad at all. It just goes to remind me how so often we create an idea of something in our minds that is much worse then the real thing.

In fact, I think the question I got asked the most was - is Haiti safe to go to?

And I will answer you now with a bold yes. And, I am already looking forward to returning.

I have never felt in danger. I have only felt loved by a culture of people that I only knew about through American media. My perspective was shaped by what was reported. And yet, everyone that I know that has every been to Haiti told me that I will never be the same and that I will love the people.

They were right.

So back to yesterday, we picked up the two teams that I am blessed to go along with. One is from Mississippi and the other Tennessee. They are delightful and I am so thankful to be a part of their journey and that they welcomed me with such open arms. This is beautiful to me.

The interesting thing about perspective is that now I was able to observe the airport that I had been so fearful about. And it opens ones eyes even more to what we believe is true but really is just a fallacy. The Praying Pelican Mission staff has everything so beautifully organized that the teams quickly, well at least quickly in the Haitian culture, are greeted and moved to the vehicles. It was amazing to watch them work. I have also realized that I live in a culture that is constantly moving from point a to point be so fast that they often miss the journey between them.

And so we trekked across the mountains. We went through the epicenter of the earthquake as well as the hardest hit areas. I saw what I thought I would see. But it didn't make my heart feel pity - it instead made my heart amazed at the absolute tenacity, perseverance, and determination of the human race. I wondered if I would be as strong, as bold, and as brave.

Ha. I thought it bold to come on a plane to Haiti. These people, these people who care, are bold. And they, like I shared yesterday, are filled with joy. And thankfulness.

So I stopped seeing the harshness and started to look for the beauty. The good.

Don't we all need to do that?

We tend to focus so much on what isn't working and forget to see what does. The Haitian people are strong, focused, and proud people. They love their country and want to see it prosper. I can come alongside, you can come alongside, and they can teach us about life. And it is a beautiful partnership of skills.

So tonight, as I write this, I write it in a hotel room in Torbeck, Haiti.

Thank you for sharing, for supporting me, and for your encouragement.

~Rachel

To stay up to date with my Haiti Trip make sure to: subscribe by email (click subscribe by email ) You can also follow me on facebook -> finding joy blog or on twitter @finding_joy or on instagram at finding_joy You can also search the hashtag #findingjoyhaiti on instagram to find my pics right away.

Make sure to follow Praying Pelican Mission on their facebook page Praying Pelican Missions and on twitter at PrayingPelican To learn more about Haiti please read Haiti Short-Term Missions.

to receive finding joy via email simply click subscribe.

starting to see. Haiti Day 2.

(this is from my experiences on Friday, the first day I arrived in Haiti. Tomorrow morning I will share my post from my trek from Port au Prince to Torbeck, Haiti. I would have shared that tonight, but due to travel time and internet my posting is just a bit behind. The pictures are stunning. The people? Even more. Tomorrow morning we go to a local church and will be with them and then we will spend the afternoon in ministry projects. My heart is full. Let me change that. My heart is beyond full.)

Let me tell you a story of giving. And gratitude. And seeing the little things. And seeing the right things. The beautiful things.

Let me tell you about real.

It was mid afternoon, as the Haitian sun beat down on us, and we, the fabulous staff from Praying Pelican Missions (who I love, love, love) were driving in our car down a street in Port au Prince crowded with people. And I'm not talking about crowded like our American traffic. I'm talking about the sidewalks full, cars making their own rules, tap taps racing about, bikes zipping by, and people stopping traffic with their hands type of full. I'm talking about people everywhere - on the steps, in the windows, in front of their goods they were selling - kind of busy.

But, that's not the story.

And it's not about the poverty. Even though there is more poverty here then I've ever seen before. It's hard to articulate, to grasp, and to comprehend.

But, think of this - I saw no one complaining. Although, lol, I couldn't understand anything. I saw people working. Smiling. Moving. Doing. They were happy. My brain needed to shift from seeing the poverty to seeing the beauty of the people. And the Haitian people are simply beautiful.

Giving. Loving. Grateful.

Joyful.

But the story? This is the story we all must hear.

I saw a man, a man who must not have been more than 25, sprawled in the middle of the sidewalk starving. His body was thinner than I imagine a man's body should ever be and his eyes were hollow. In fact, the more that I think about it, his eyes were the eyes of one in pain.

He lay there, in the sidewalk with people everywhere holding a beat up  faded blue baseball hat.

But this is what astounds me.

In that minute or so observing this man on the streets in the middle of Port au Prince, Haiti, I saw person after person after person stop and place money in his hat. Several men, a woman, and child. All stopped, smiled, and gave. All Haitians.

There was no judging, no wondering why he's in the middle of the street, no looking at their own money and counting - there was simply giving. Of money to a man who was dying in the middle of the Haitian streets. To a man that was in need even though there is so much need.

It was an unbelievable amount of giving in an unbelievably poverty stricken area.

And it hit me in my heart.

How many times do I overlook those in need? How many times do I think not today, but maybe tomorrow? How many times do I complain about little inconsequential things that really don't make a difference?

A man, in the street, needed help. And those who had little gave much.

I already wrestle with going back to a culture where I didn't see. I didn't see the comfortable in which I live.

I am starting to see.

I am starting to see love.

Real joy.

And it is in the beautiful streets of Haiti.

******
Please consider sharing these posts - they are posts about the real, authentic beauty of Haiti. I would be so blessed. ~Rachel

To stay up to date with my Haiti Trip make sure to: subscribe by email (click subscribe by email ) You can also follow me on facebook -> finding joy blog or on twitter @finding_joy or on instagram at finding_joy You can also search the hashtag #findingjoyhaiti on instagram to find my pics right away.

Make sure to follow Praying Pelican Mission on their facebook page Praying Pelican Missions and on twitter at PrayingPelican To learn more about Haiti please read Haiti Short-Term Missions.

to receive finding joy via email simply click subscribe.

The journey begins. Haiti Day 1.

By the time you read this I will either be in an airplane 37000 feet about the earth or on the ground in Haiti. Today is the day that I leave behind my expectations about Haiti and instead trade them for reality.

When I originally wrote this this, it was less than two days before I left (I finished it up on the plane somewhere over Green Bay, Wisconsin, as my plane was rerouted due to intense storms in the area thus leaving me only 30 minutes to grab my connecting flight in Miami). And my heart is doing those little flips of nervous excitement. I know my life, my perspective, and my heart won't be the same. And I am so thrilled to share about my journey with you via my site.

I am grateful for every single email that you have sent me. For the comments. For the tweets. For the facebook mentions. And all of those encouraging words. They matter to me.

I think often when I write this site, this labor of love for me, that I write to myself just as much to all of you. The phrase brave mother wasn't by accident. It's exactly where I am, as well, in this journey of life. For too long I've lived cowering behind safe and have been afraid to truly embrace life and joy and hope and adventure.

This trip to Haiti is a lesson in bravery for me.

I could say it's because I'm flying alone. And navigating the airport alone. Or that it's because I'm not really sure what to expect. Or that the whole thing makes me nervous. Those reasons, yeah, they're brave. But the real brave for me is being willing to push myself to do something that years ago I would have told you was impossible.

It's easy to shrug our shoulders and to mutter those I don't really care kind of words. I've done that. I've lived that way, with that posture of deceiving myself into not really caring kind of way. But, now hear me, that's not how we're to live. We're not to live numb to life. Even though sometimes it's easier to live that way. I know.

But when you dim the painful parts of life you also dim joy.

And joy is too powerful and too beautiful to let fade.

So, for me, going to Haiti is also a fight for that real, in the pit of the stomach, joy. It's not about me getting. It's about me learning, letting go, and giving. And I know in return that the blessings I will receive will far surpass anything I ever expected.

As a blessing to me I'd love it if you would share my Haiti journey with others. It's a tremendous blessing that Praying Pelican Missions asked me to attend a trip on their behalf and to write about it. But, I need your help and support now. Comment. Share. Learn more about Praying Pelican Mission. And learn about Haiti with me. When I come home I'm going to have a project that you and I and the next mom reading this site will be able to work for. We might be able to build a school. Imagine that. Build a school for kids. Or sponsor kids to attend school. Those things matter. They make a difference.

So now, now as you read this, think of me, please. Send your encouragement. Prayers. Thoughts.

And be brave yourself.

Because if anything when you read this site I want you to shut your laptop and to leave feeling brave. Inspired. And knowing that this life is a gift and that what you are doing every single day is amazing.

Thank you.

Rachel
(and that last pic of me was about 10 minutes for my plane took off for Miami. Grin.)

******
To stay up to date with my Haiti Trip make sure to: subscribe by email (click subscribe by email ) You can also follow me on facebook -> finding joy blog or on twitter @finding_joy or on instagram at finding_joy You can also search the hashtag #findingjoyhaiti on instagram to find my pics right away.

Make sure to follow Praying Pelican Mission on their facebook page Praying Pelican Missions and on twitter at PrayingPelican To learn more about Haiti please read Haiti Short-Term Missions.

to receive finding joy via email simply click subscribe.
Images and original content are sole property of Rachel Martin and may not be used, copied or transmitted without prior written consent.

why motherhood is brushing off defeat, pulling up the boot straps, and being amazing.

I thought about writing you another dear mom letter. This letter was to the defeated mom, the mom that was worn, and sitting in a life that looks nothing like the life she had envisioned for motherhood. It was to you, the mom that just is simply tired of folding laundry or dealing with sassing children or whose heart is just a bit weary, tired or lost in the midst of motherhood.

It's easy to lose one's heart in motherhood.

It's easy to mumble words about not really caring or it doesn't matter or some day it will be different.

And then, then those days of allowing numb or defeat or sadness chip away at the actually very beautiful moments tucked within the normal days of motherhood. The moments like Hannah captured yesterday - the simple raw beauty of motherhood - moments of tender hugs, tucking hair behind the ears, and wiping away damp tears from a three year old's face. They're the moments of simple joy and just life lived.

Those moments are the moments that will tug at your heart one day.

You just need to see them again.

You just need to see you again. 

And you need to acknowledge that heart of yours. Don't keep telling yourself it doesn't matter. It does matter. It does matter if you're hurting right now or are feeling overwhelmed or are just simply tired or wish that someone would see all the awesomeness that you do every day. Now don't laugh or shake your head or dismiss all that you're doing. Don't tell me it's just what a mom days. Do you know what?

It is just what a mom does.

And it's awesome and amazing and one of those things that deserves a standing ovation.

I am not joking.

Motherhood is hard. I mean, really, really think about it. You nurture a person. Teach them about life. Love them when they tell you they hate you. Potty train them. Which, by the way makes my top five of least favorite things to do as a parent. If there was a dislike button for parenting moments I'll put that there. I might even put that at the top three, because seriously, it's no fun. You hold puke buckets, wipe sweaty brows, mop up spilled milk, vacuum out crumbs out of the back seat, deal with lost homework, you find apple cores stuffed behind dressers instead of being thrown away, there's the laundry that you forgot in the washing machine, and clothes in the dryer that need to be tumbled again because you left them in there so long that they got wrinkly.

All normal. And all amazing.

Motherhood is a great deal of brushing off the feeling of defeat. It's that constant refusal of letting the lies of defeat stick to who you are and what you do. This world can easily label and burden you and me and all the mothers of this world with a list of expectations, to-do's, and must do's that we start to think we're not measuring up. If you never did one pinterest project again you would still be an awesome mom. Here's a secret - I've only done one thing from pinterest. Ever. Even though I have boards upon boards with the label things to do and try.

And that pulling up of the boot straps? Well, every single time you count to ten for the tenth time behind the bathroom door before going back and dealing with the four year old (talk about a challenging age) you are pulling up those motherhood bootstraps. The act of pulling anything up requires effort. Work. Work is hard. Work takes strength.

You are full of strength.

Sometimes you forget. I know because I forget it in my own life. And then I fall back into those it doesn't really matter phrases. But, truth it, you matter. Not because you're an amazing mom who feels a bit defeated right now, but at the core, because you as a person, who happens to be a mother, truly matters.

Our hearts matter. Your heart matters.

So today, today I step back for a moment and I hold my extra hot caramel macchiato (because that it is what I always get at Starbucks) up to you and I cheer for you, your heart, your motherhood journey, and your journey. It's a journey with ups and downs and about faces and paths that you never thought you'd ever be on. It's not really where you're ending up, it's the living now that matters.

Live today knowing that today you're making a difference.

You are amazing.

Someone needed to remind you of it again. And today? Today it was me.

Onward brave mother.

You have life to live.

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what to expect in Haiti

One week from today I will be boarding a plane and flying from Minneapolis to Miami to Haiti.

I have no idea what to expect.

Oh, I have images in my head of what I think Haiti will be like - a collection of pictures thrown together to make what I believe I think I'll see. They're a mixture of images burned in my mind from the earthquake that I scrolled through on cnn.com to the tender smiles and laughter of the children that I saw from when friends of mine visited last summer. They're a smorgasboard of pictures of poverty mixed with tropical beauty mixed with vibrant sun mixed with noise. But, honestly, they're all ideas of perhaps what I'll expect to see.

It's like the What to Expect When You're Expecting book, in a way. I remember scouring that book when I was pregnant the first time - reading about morning sickness, stretch marks, what it will feel like to feel that child move within you the first time, and labor - but until I went through a pregnancy and watched my body change - only then could I really tell you what the expected actually was.

A dear friend of mine challenged me to think about what I think I will experience in Haiti and to share it with you today. And then, then while I'm there the expecting aspect will become a reality aspect and I will see where the thoughts, images, and ideas matched and where I was totally off. I have a deep feeling that most of what I expect won't really be the reality.

There are little things I expect like knowing it will be hot. But how hot? I know it won't be Minnesota hot on the hottest day of summer where we all hunker inside and I think to myself rather foolishly that I wish it was winter. (Sigh. Note to self: even on the hottest day in the summer do not wish it was winter). I've tried to prep myself for the heat - with hats, headbands, sunscreen - but, truthfully, I'll have no idea of that heat until I find myself walking out of the airport in Port au Prince and my straightened hair quickly reverting to its naturally curly state.

But, this isn't all about the physical aspects, I guess. I suppose I could tell you that I expect the sun to be so brilliant that my eyes will want to be shaded. Or that in Port au Prince I will be stunned at how many people are around everywhere. That there will be noises that I've never heard and that all of my American ideas of normal will quickly be shattered. But, honestly, I am expecting a great deal to not only paint a new picture of Haiti for myself (and thus you all as I'll be writing about it) but also for my heart.

What will it be like to work/shadow a Haitian mother for days?

I complain about laundry here. And yet, while in Haiti, I'll get to work alongside a mother doing her daily chores - laundry, cooking, etc... - how quickly will be it be that my hands, who are used to simply dumping clothes in a machine, spinning the dial, moving them to the next machine, removing them and folding them - how soon will those hands of mine be worn? Have callouses? I expect to tire much quicker from the work. I expect that I will learn a new understanding for work. I expect that my ideas of mothering will change and yet, at the core, the loving of a child will stay the same.

I also expect that the paradigm in which I see this world will be forever shifted.

And that part? I have no idea what to expect.

So, in a week, as I board that plane, traveling to Haiti with Praying Pelican Missions, I know that even though I am being blessed to go help, to give back, to write about Haiti, and to share with you all about Haiti and ways that you, too, can help, that I will be the one who will be stepping onto a plane leaving Minnesota to not come back the same.

I expect my heart to be forever changed.

And that?

That's the one thing I'm absolutely sure of.

*******


From June 21 - June 27 I'll be in Torbeck, Haiti, working alongside Praying Pelican Missions. I'll be flying into Port au Prince, spending a night there, visiting an orphanage, and then the next day returning to the airport to document and observe missions teams arriving. Then I'll join them and will trek across the mountains to the fishing village of Torbeck. I do, by the way, expect to see banana trees, dusty roads, and vibrant colors on this stretch of the journey. And then, once I'm in Torbeck, which is part of the Port Salut district I'll be working with the missions teams on various tasks. Building, planting trees, playing sports with the kids in the afternoon, and for me, the part in which I'm most excited about - working alongside Haitian mothers.

I cannot imagine what I will be taught about life during those days.

Work. Family. Love. Perseverance. Endurance. Laughter. Joy.

Please take a minute to learn more about Haiti and Praying Pelican Missions. I've known Jim, the leader of my trip, for years. We attend the same church, his sweet daughter is around the same age as my Samuel, we've talked about Haiti and missions and social media for years after church standing in the entryway as our kids have raced around, and now, now to finally go and share with you what Praying Pelican Missions does every day in Haiti? Well, it is a beautiful reality and blessing. It is an honor to be given the opportunity to not only experience Haiti and to serve, but to be able to write, take pictures, and share it with you as well.

During the week that I am there I will be sharing with you about Haiti. If you haven't subscribed by email yet click subscribe by email so that you don't miss a day. You can also follow me on facebook -> finding joy blog or on twitter @finding_joy or on pinterest at or on instagram at finding_joy. Do me a favor and like and share this post as well - it brings awareness to the awesome things Praying Pelican is doing in Haiti.

Make sure to follow Praying Pelican Mission on their facebook page Praying Pelican Missions and on twitter at PrayingPelican To learn more about Haiti please read Haiti Short-Term Missions.

And, finally, please keep me in your thoughts and prayers over the next couple weeks - for health, for my family at home, for my heart, and for strength. The one thing I constantly hear from others when I tell them I'm going to Haiti is that I will never be the same. I want to let go of the fears and embrace the real. To find joy. To be a voice. To see differently. That's what I want and actually expect.

~Rachel

For the next three weeks, Friday Favorite Things will be suspended. For all of you that participate - thank you - I appreciate you linking. 
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my grandfather had it right all along. when work brings joy.

After a very quiet weekend away from social media I thought I'd share some thoughts about work, dreams, and joy. Sometimes in motherhood and life we can work, work, work and it doesn't seem to match the dream we once had. It's still incredibly valued and noble. Be blessed today. ~Rachel

My grandfather was a farmer.

I remember him so well - his face, worn from the sun, freckled, and raw having had peels to remove the skin cancer that his never wearing sunscreen face endured. He was this tall man, with a laugh that filled my soul - a man that knew the value of work with hands rough with callouses but arms always willing to give a hug. As a child I remember sleeping in the front porch of his old white farmhouse, with the screen door that slammed, while the neighbor men worked through the night harvesting. I remember my grandpa leading me through the barns, showing me the stalls for the cows, helping me pet their soft faces, letting me help doing the simplest of chores, and all the time him smiling proud behind me. He'd go to bed late and rise early and I rarely ever heard him complain about life.

He'd wake before the sun on Saturday mornings and would sit and watch cartoons - Bugs Bunny - with me on an old tube tv with a crackly signal and rabbit ears on top.I loved him, that man taken from the world by the vicious beast called pancreatic cancer, the man who loved his family, loved his life, and always worked hard.

He valued work.

I never once heard him talk about how farming was his dream. In fact, I don't know if it ever was his dream, but farming provided food for his children, for my mother, and as he always told me - it keeps the wolves from the door. In fact, before I got married he even asked my husband to be what he did to keep the wolves from his door. He didn't ask him what his dreams were, or where he thought he'd get a bunch of fulfillment in life - he asked him a question that basically was about survival and keeping food on the table for a family.

My grandfather lived during the depression. Money was tight, tighter than I could probably ever imagine, and yet he kept on working. And at the end of his life, while he whittled away from cancer, he never complained to any of us about not following his dreams. He was content to work. To live life. To give back. To celebrate family. He was thankful, joyful, for the work that he was blessed to have been able to complete.

I think about the many people in this world, the dad working two jobs and the moms working the late shift and the moms working day after day for their kids and the people doing those jobs that often don't get that much acknowledgement and I wonder if we celebrate and value that keep the wolves from the door work ethic. My grandfather would think it was a noble thing, really, to work that hard for one's family. And yet, sometimes I think there are these presuppositions now about work that we've truly really made it when we're working doing something that not only provides incredibly well but is also something that is our passion, our love, our dream.

Do we celebrate the mom who gave up the job that she loved to stay home with her kids? Do we celebrate the dad working at a job that he really hates but he needs to make sure that the money keeps coming in so the wolves stay away? Do we celebrate the value in just simply working?

Sometimes I can see where the scales have covered my eyes. I can see how I've judged and how I've pushed this idea of chasing the dreams and that having dreams and work intersect perfectly is the pinnacle of earthly success. And yet, sometimes, often times, life is just truly about working very very hard and not receiving much glory. In less than a month I am going to travel to Haiti to help with the rebuilding efforts. I cannot imagine, and I might be very wrong here and if I am I will gladly share it with you, but I cannot imagine sitting in a room with mothers and fathers and grandparents and children who are working hard to simply provide hearing them lament that the job they have isn't their dream. It's work. It puts food on the table.

We live in a world, in a country and culture, where sometimes there is this extra space, this pressure, to make sure that whatever we are doing fulfills this greater deeper desire of our hearts. I love that, really. I'm a dream big, go for the gold, shoot for the moon, kind of gal. I get the value, the deep need to live a life that matches our gifts and dreams. But, I've also lived a reality where those dreams had to be put on the shelf, where they had to be let go of so that food could come on the table, in those times years ago while my husband underwent cancer treatment and the jobs and dreams flittered away and life was left with humbling work. I found myself making excuses, apologizing, trying to make it all seem like more.

There has to be a balance between embracing work and pursuing dreams and defining a good life.

I want to teach my children the value in work. I also want to teach them to pursue their dreams, to live boldly, and to develop their passions - yes, absolutely. But again, I also truly want them to know that I respect the individual who sucks in pride and works to keep the wolves away from the door doing a job that wasn't ever on the radar. The thing is - real life happens and it can knock even those with the best plans, noblest intentions, and dreams into spots working at jobs that they never imagined. That doesn't define them. Is the the gift in simply having work celebrated? In fact, I look at my grandfather, the man who tended and fought the earth for his entire life and I see a man who lived well. He was a man who didn't complain about work, in fact, he looked at his work as a blessing. A gift. A means to put food on his family's table.

Work. Dreams. I feel like it can get jumbled together in today's world. Do I want my children to live a life that is the meshing of all of their amazing talents and makes them money and is their dream? Ideally, and absolutely yes. But, I also want them to be able to live a life and to still find joy, to be like my grandfather - grateful for the ability, freedom, and gift of work.

Sigh. I miss my grandfather terribly. He was the one that called me the city girl - just like in Laura Ingall's books - because I grew up in the suburbs of Minneapolis. I know to this day he was thankful for work. There are so many many many people out there, right now, working to do exactly what grandpa worried about - keep the wolves from the door. They have children at home, mortgages or rent to pay, and food to provide. So they give. Of themselves, their time, and their talents. Maybe it was never the dream, but it is a noble thing.

Does joy like my grandfather had come from living the dream life or in being content in the life one was blessed to live?

I don't know, honestly. It's like the chicken and the egg question, really. However, there was this deep contentment, this deep joy that resonated from my grandfather. He lived a good life - he worked the land, fought for his family, and died rich - not fiscally, but with memories and those that loved him surrounding his bedside. I wish I could have asked him what his dreams were when he was young and I could have chatted with him about life and dreams and work.

Life is interesting. My grandfather found joy in the simplest things.

I think he had it right.

Carry on today, brave mother.

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