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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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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