Haiti: Messy, imperfect and delightful

I stepped outside with my basket of freshly washed clothes and began hanging them on the line. My sweet friend, Rebecca, who lives right next door to the main house, darted straight for me when she caught my eye. 

Morgan MartinRebecca gives the kind of hugs you don’t want to let go of, the kind that can knock the wind out of you if she gets a running start, and the kind you can tell she doesn’t get enough of. I proceeded to tell her: “I love you! Mwen renmen ou!” She looked up at me with the biggest, toothy grin. When she stepped back from our hug, I looked down at my white shirt, which was now a tinted brown color. “Hmmm,” I thought. “Good thing I’m doing my laundry.” 

I spun around, and Rebecca already had started to gather my newly washed clothes and some clothespins. Before I could redirect her, she had set out to hang my clothes. I cringed. My blue microfiber towel, now cleaned and smelling nice, was draped around her neck like a scarf. My skirts were gathered in her hands, parts hitting the dirt as she walked. I tried taking some of the clothes from her and giving her the task of holding the clothespins, but she’s an independent lady, and she wanted to do the big-girl job. I reluctantly let her carry my clothes to the line. 

As she stumbled to the line, a couple of my shirts slid out of her hands and into the dirt. I smiled and told her, “shake it off.” But inside I was screaming, “I just washed those!” 

I went back to my basket and began to hang up clothes alongside Rebecca. We continued in silence for a couple of minutes. And then, it struck me. I gazed out upon sweet Rebecca and the work she was doing. Filthy from head to toe, too short to reach the tall clothesline, and dropping clothes all over the place—this must be what it’s like for God to look at my work.

Selfish and proud, I often tell God: “I’m fine. I got this. I can do this on my own.” My work ends up being messy, imperfect like Rebecca’s haphazard clothes strewn over the clothesline. But God isn’t frustrated as he looks at our ESL class when it doesn’t go like we intended. He isn’t angry when I can’t remember an answer to someone’s question during Bible study. He delights in me. 

I am not the most qualified person to be an ambassador for Christ. In fact, I’m not qualified at all to do that. God chooses to use me still, and he delights in my obedience. I’m learning that maybe it’s more about saying “yes” than it is the “getting it right.” Thank you, sweet Rebecca, for teaching me this much-needed truth.

Morgan Martin, a student at the University of Texas at Austin, is serving with Go Now Missions in Haiti.