Today was beautiful

And then came day five. You know the drill- another day, another stop on the Attitude Express.

First, we went to the house. Half the team was building a local lady a new house. I clearly was not a part of that team- not because I’m a girl and I can’t build houses but because you haven’t heard anything about a house until now. 

And also because I can’t build houses and I just so happen to be a girl. 

Correlation does not equal causation… or the other way… or something… I don’t know... FEMINISM. 

So anyway, we went to this house to dedicate it. This was the first that I’d seen the house, so I was kinda excited. Jordan Sparks led our march- Battlefield was playing LOUD from one of the neighbor’s houses. I sang along as long as I could but then I was out of breath because walking uphill and HELLO not in shape. 

Then I saw the house. Bright green- like fluorescent- and small. It almost looked like the size of my brother’s shed which is parked outside of my parent’s house, at the end of the driveway. And this is her house, which she shares with a bazillion of her children and some grandchildren. 

Cool. So we continue to climb the mountain and then I realize we have to climb these treacherous rocks in order to get to the door of the new house. Little lady who lives here is maybe 60 years old (?) and she has to climb these rocks whenever she comes and goes. 

Again, cool. So I climb the treacherous rocks and reach the door only to find that there isn’t actually a great way to get through the doorway because the rocks that I had just climbed kind of drop off. So the others were grabbing the side of the door and sort of swinging themselves up into the house. 

Perfect.

And then I was pissed. Because this sweet lady has this bright green house which she’s so proud of and it’s freaking tiny, has no indoor plumbing or electricity, is only 2 rooms, and you can’t even walk into the house properly. 

So I refused to go in.

My apologies to everyone who offered to help me into the house. I didn’t want to do it because it wasn’t fair. It wasn’t fair that a 60ish year old woman would have to risk her life just to go inside.

What if it rained and the rocks were wet and she slipped and broke her leg?

Very possible.

Then she asked us all to go inside and sing together before we dedicated the house. So I parked the attitude express and I swung myself into the house for her. And I sang about how great and faithful God is. And she cried when we prayed because she was so moved and so grateful.

And y’all her house was literally built on a rectangular slab of uneven concrete. But she was so grateful with so little. 

Then we left, and I spent the rest of the day cleaning a house on the base. Jess and I cleaned 3 full bathrooms before she started on windows and I took over the floors. I’m not a fan of cleaning up after other people- especially when it comes to bathrooms. Like I think I’d rather use an outhouse covered in spider webs for the rest of my life than have to clean somebody else’s bathroom. So climbing into these showers with long, black hair sticking to the sides was a real stretch for me. Lucky for you, I’m not trying to relive that experience.

Anyway, I intentionally waited for the rooms to be finished before I started in on sweeping and mopping the floors, but turns out I didn’t wait long enough. The woman who was helping us kept going back over things in the rooms that we had flagged as finished. She would find a single shelf that was un-dusted or a cabinet that was un-wiped and she would dust and wipe and then ask me to re-sweep and re-mop the whole floor.

I’m not kidding you when I say that I cleaned the floors in each room of that stupid house at least 4 times each.

And then God nudged me and said, Cait- would you not clean these floors all day long if you knew that I was moving in? Would you not clean each corner, each shelf, each cabinet, until the very moment I arrived?

Clean this house as though you were preparing it for me.

So then I rolled my eyes as I rolled up my sleeves and I swept the floor again. Because no way I would let the king of my heart sleep in a room with dusty windows. But enough about cleaning bathrooms because here comes day six.

Day six was probably my most favorite/the most uncomfortable/the saddest/the happiest day of the trip.

Day six we spent at a special needs orphanage called West Haven. Full disclosure- I didn’t want to go. I was so anxious that I actually got diarrhea the night before. Sorry to be so graphic, but I did say full disclosure.

Nothing in me wanted to go. I was scared. What if I said the wrong thing, or what if I was grossed out by what I saw? Or even worse- what if I didn’t know what to say?

But day six I wasn’t given a choice so into the bus we piled and around the island we went until we (quickly) arrived.  We slowly filed off the bus as children and adults with a variety of special needs confidently approached.

God, let me see these people as you see these people.

I stood there awkwardly, not sure where to look or where to go. I debated getting back on the bus to give myself a much needed pep talk when suddenly I was being led forward.

I looked to my right and a little man in a gray t-shirt had looped his arm through mine. He smiled at me and I smiled back.

“Come on in”, he said as he continued to direct me forward, patting my arm as we walked. He walked me down the little road, into the heart of their home where he unhooked his arm from mine and gave me a quick hug before limping away.

And then I was head butted by a lady that called me “baby, baby”. To be fair, I was warned about this woman and knew that the hug she was pulling me in for was just for show. It was an excuse to get me close enough so that she could smack her well-conditioned forehead into my poor, unsuspecting forehead. So at the last second I turned my face and she ended up nailing me in the right ear which hurt a lot less than I expected. That was definitely the lowest point of the day, but she quickly moved on to her next victim and I was free to mingle with less physically violent folks.

I soon found myself sitting at a picnic table with several people crowded around a boom box. I sang along to the songs that I knew, and the rest of the time I just watched and smiled at the kids. When they’d see me watching them their faces would light up and then they’d squeeze their eyes shut and “sing” even louder.

Not many of them could sing by our definition, but in their hearts man- they were freaking Madonna.

One little boy was standing on the table shouting HALLELUJAH at the top of his little lungs. Like he must’ve seen some old school southern Baptist revival services because this kid was LIT. It’s possible that he also had some anger management issues, because later he hit me pretty hard- unprovoked. But man, hallelujah kid knew what was up when he was worshipping. I’m thinking maybe next time I’m on keys at church I’m just going to HALLELUJAH my way through each song. On the other hand, I better not. He gave me goosebumps, but I’d probably just freak everyone out.

While I was sitting at the picnic table, a little boy with red sweatpants came up and sat on/beside me. He had a naked baby doll with him. One minute he was petting the doll and softly whispering in its ear, and the next he would swing it around by its leg while hollering something that made him laugh hysterically. I smiled at him, and asked if he loved his baby. He responded by sticking his tongue out and licking the doll from its chin to the top of its head. Then he held the doll out to me, as if he wanted me to show my affection for the doll in the same way.

I politely declined, of course.

Then hallelujah boy came over and threw the doll to the ground which ticked red sweatpants boy right off. The unnecessary aggression was not appreciated. My time at the picnic table came to an abrupt end.

There were several young boys- maybe early teens- who would walk around with us girls with an arm thrown protectively across our shoulders. Reuben was a little ladies’ man. He looked like he was maybe 10 years old, but he acted like a solid 17. He quickly made each of us girls his special girlfriend. He’d wiggle his eyebrows at us, hold our hands, sit on our laps, and he was constantly puckering up in preparation for kisses that he didn’t receive.

Reuben made me laugh with his persistence. He refused to take a picture with me, so I refused his advances and would not call him my boyfriend. This didn’t go over well- as you can imagine- so before long I gave in.

He, however, did not. So here I am- one of Reuben’s many girlfriends yet I have no photo to show for it. Typical man.

Then there was William. His smile made me smile. He had several stick-on Iron Man tattoos. So we compared ink and Dan and I admired how brave he was to trust his friend to put an Iron Man tattoo on the back of his neck.

William also liked to show off his muscles so there were several gun shows throughout the day. He liked to compare muscles with the guys on our team. And the show couldn’t end until we felt his muscles and praised him for his strength.

But his smile was the most memorable- the dude smiled constantly. When I asked if he would take a picture with me, he threw his arm around my neck before I even had finished the question. He pulled me close- cheek to cheek- and smiled until Aly confirmed that the moment had been captured. It took a long time because Aly was helping one of the other kids take the picture. Then he looked at me and we both laughed all over again.

At lunchtime, we were asked to help the staff feed some of the kids who were unable to feed themselves. I was timid. I walked around sheepishly, didn’t look the nurses in the eye, steered clear of the rooms where the lunch was being served, and generally avoided anyone who I thought would ask me to help with feedings.

I thought I could trust my uncle Randy, so I joined him on the porch and we chatted a little bit before he straight up said, “Cait, go ask that lady who you should feed”.

Betrayed by my own uncle and he didn’t even know it. I slowly walked over to the nurse- because Randy was watching and I basically didn’t have a choice- and I smiled and said, “Could I feed him?”

I was praying that she would brush me off and be all polite like, “Nah, I got this!” but home girl practically ran into the kitchen to get the bowl of food for the little boy in front of me.

Great. So there I stood, in front of a little boy in a blue t-shirt, laying down in a wheelchair with his arms folded awkwardly by his sides and his knees pulled up tight to his chest.

One of his knees was under his shirt, almost up to his neck. I looked at him and I thought- how in the heck am I supposed to feed this child? There was no way that this was going to end well for either of us.

And then the nurse came around the corner with a bowl of food and a spoon. As soon as this boy saw her, he sat up so straight, so fast. Like lightning speed.

I’m not kidding y’all, I almost fell over. I was so shocked.

You can sit!? I shouted at this poor child. And then he laughed at me.

Ha, God. Good one.

After we all ate lunch, a bunch of us got our phones out and started taking pictures with the kids. The best thing happened shortly after the phones started to appear. I watched as one of the kids walked up to a guy on our team and he pulled a small, rectangular piece of wood from the pocket of his tattered jeans. He held it up in front of his face, just as we were doing, and he took a picture of Dylan, with his wooden iPhone.

I couldn’t help but laugh as I compartmentalized the memory for later.

One boy, we called him Vanilla (because his name sounded something like Vanilla but no one was really sure what he was actually saying) proudly walked me to the gate when it was time to leave. I asked him to walk me out, and he nodded his agreement, taking the job so seriously. Never have I felt so protected and loved as I did in that moment, with Vanilla proudly escorting me to the bus. He gave me a tight hug when we reached the gate, and I almost didn’t let him go.

Only a few hours earlier I wanted to live the rest of my life from the safety of that bus, but suddenly I couldn’t stand the thought of leaving these sweet, sweet people.

The day ended so fast- almost too fast for me to feel as though I was able to fully appreciate the beautiful souls I had just met.

Later that night our team debriefed together. The conditions of the West Haven facility, the state of the children who were confined to beds for their entire lives, the food that they ate, the clothes they wore (or didn’t wear)- it was all hard to see.

A lot of us were struggling with the question- why? Why is this their reality? What purpose are they serving?

Randy shared a little bit of his experience from the day. He was singing a worship song with a girl named Crystal. She spent her days sitting in an outdated wheelchair, unable to talk, walk, or feed herself. Crystal loved to sing, so many of us sat and sang with her throughout the day.

Randy shared that while singing, God answered his ‘why’. Crystal’s purpose is to worship God.

William’s purpose is to worship God.

Reuben’s purpose is to worship God.

My purpose is to worship God.

We are all the same in that we were created to worship and bring glory to our God. No number of disabilities or special needs or outdated wheelchairs or ripped jeans or wooden phones can change that.

And let me tell you, these kids worshipped. They threw their hands up, they shouted hallelujah, they clapped their hands and stomped their feet and they worshipped. They didn’t dwell on circumstances. 

They didn’t use their physical limits as excuses. Heck, they didn’t even know that they had physical limits.

I saw a boy rolling down the hill, in his wheelchair, with the biggest smile on his face. He was flying.

I saw a girl being pushed in her wheelchair as she raced a member of our team. She was running.

I heard a boy slurring his words as he swayed to the music with his eyes squeezed tight. He was singing.

And then I thought about little girl’s blue sheets, and that cardboard iPhone. I couldn’t even remember the color of my sheets at home. I couldn’t remember the color and I had changed them just before I left.

I thought about the iPhone I had previously which was seriously damaged in a tragic work related incident. The iPhone has one button, and mine was so badly broken that the button literally fell out. I waited for months, desperate for October when it was finally time for my update because I was so embarrassed by my button-less iPhone with the cracked screen that cut me when I swiped my thumb a certain way.

Suddenly I was ashamed because of how thrilled little girl was that her sheets were her favorite color, and I had no idea what color mine were. I was ashamed because that boy wanted to capture a moment like I do constantly and with little thought- and he didn’t think twice about his wooden iPhone.

I have all this stuff- but do I even need it?

I have mint colored sheets that are so soft I feel like I’m sleeping on a cloud. I have an iPhone that can basically read my mind (I’m lookin at you, Siri).

But do I need an uncracked iPhone or fancy sheets with a high thread count?

Or do I need exactly what those kids had? Jesus and joy and friendship and love.

And then Jess- bless your heart, dear Jess- she said exactly what I needed to hear.

I don’t need a fancy job title in a plush corner office or a rich husband or a big house or even my own house. I need Jesus. The rest doesn’t even matter because Jesus is enough. My purpose is the same as little girl’s purpose, red sweatpants boy’s purpose, hallelujah boy’s purpose, bossy girl’s purpose, and William’s purpose- and that is enough.

And suddenly I felt this huge burden fall from my shoulders because even though God has told me to wait, I can still fulfill my purpose. I can still be who God wants me to be even while I wait. What a relief! My purpose doesn’t change even when my life changes.

Boom, what freedom.

Day six was like a breath of fresh air in the most unexpected of ways.

And then day seven was spent on the beach and it was on day seven that I knew I was in love.

So in love, that when the strange man on the street offered to give me my very own platinum credit card if I stayed with him, I honestly paused for a moment to consider the offer.

Not because I want more stuff, but it seemed like he would be cool with me spending all of my time on the beach. And I wanted that beach, man. Plus he also tried to sell me a copy of his latest reggae album so he’s obviously motivated. Then he tried to sell me weed so he’s got to be an entrepreneur. And he was practically proposing to me, a complete stranger, so he’s outgoing and confident.

But then I realized I would miss my dogs too much so I said forget it and moved on. God bless the lucky lady who will one day accept that kind young man’s offer. She’s #blessed.

The beach day was great. We went snorkeling and it’s safe to say that I’m a big fan. Did you know that there’s like a gazillion fish in the ocean?! There are. It’s great. I tried to be real still so I could touch one of them, but then I’d get freaked out when they’d swim towards me and I’d move and scream a little bit. So that didn’t work out.

We also went to Margaritaville which was just as great as it sounds.

I reluctantly left Jamaica on day eight. I left with a new perspective, an appreciation for where I am in my life, a love for Jamaican bananas, and at least four boyfriends.

The trip was wildly successful. I’m wondering why I waited 24 years. Probably the dumbest thing I’ve ever done. And for real, when can we go back?

Group shot

I'm hardcore missing this porch and the view and those people

The group with the happy home owner and her new house

Got my hair braided by a woman who wasn't afraid to pull and yank and shove my head to the side when necessary

All the Jamaican rainbows, please

Love that I got to experience Jamaica with my brother. And Jordan is photobombing in his sunglasses.

One of us is Vanilla and the other is just pale

William's smile is impossible to ignore

Margaritaville, can you not?

Today was beautiful

Sammy caught a fish and I just wanted to make sure that everyone got a chance to see it because f'real- look at that fish

keep the credit card- I'll just need Jamaican sunsets forever

<3

Still not 35

Back at it again because this was one whole week and we've only just discussed the first two days! You ready to read some more? Because imma write a whole lot!

Day three allowed for more ‘just wait’ moments. Luckily by then I was allowing myself to be okay with the idea, so the attitude workout didn’t hurt as much. Day three we spent at an orphanage, loving on and playing with kids of all ages. 

This was the first orphanage I’ve been to, and I was surprised in the best way. I have a sensitive spirit and certain places really affect me. Does that make sense? Places affect me on a spiritual level. That sounds weird, and I’ve tried rewriting that several times but I can’t word it in a less odd way. So deal with it. 

Honestly though- the atmosphere of buildings affects me in a deep way. So I was thrilled when I walked into this orphanage and was immediately bathed in natural light streaming through windows and giant doors. I had prepared myself to carry the heaviness of the orphanage- to carry the hurt, the pain, and the hopelessness that I expected to feel. 

I blame Annie for this one- Annie and her scrappy pals and Miss Hannigan. I was prepared to see orphans dressed in rags scrubbing the floor until it would shine like the top of the Chrysler building! Is that the line? Whatever- that’s not what I saw. 

I stood in the entryway, surrounded by photos of happy, healthy kids, and I could only smile. The light in the building was something I couldn’t get over. It was almost tangible- and heavy with all of the best things: love, joy, laughter, hope. 

There were some six year old kids that a few of us played with during their recess time. Except I don’t think they call it recess, because I asked one of them “is this recess?” and he just stared at me. So I’m not sure what that was about.  

First we threw a Frisbee around- until the only six year old girl threw it onto the roof of their school building. So then we played with a soccer ball until someone head butted it over the side of the mountain. Luckily the ball was retrieved but then the kids decided it was too valuable to risk losing so we put it away. After that we just watched the boys race down the hill on their scooters. 

 

No fear- except for me. I had fear because 

1. They kept almost running into me and 

2. There were like five of them and they all FLEW down this hill at the same time and I was sure they would crash and then it would be like a 40 car pileup on the Turnpike. 

Thankfully there were no accidents. 

Unless you call asking yet another Jamaican child to guess your age. You're 35. 

No kid, I'm not 35. 

Are you sure?

Unfortunately not every orphanage had the same peaceful presence. Day four we visited an orphanage that was more like what I had been expecting. The hallways were narrow. The lights were fluorescent and harsh. The floors were concrete and cold. The sadness, hopelessness, and hurt were thick. 

The children clung to us. One little boy wanted me to hold him. So I did, and he pointed in the directions he wanted me to walk. He didn’t want to play, he didn’t want to slide or swing or sit down beside me- he just wanted me to hold him. So I stood on the playground, holding this toddler, not sure what to do while slowly losing feeling in my arms.

Then I remembered that my aunt Lynda always talks about the memories she has from when she was young of her mom singing while she held her. So I started to hum. Of course, no Jesus-y worship songs came to mind right away (oops), so I hummed Wagon Wheel, One Direction, some JT- you know, the classics. All this time I was softly patting little boy’s back. 

At one point I stopped humming and patting because someone came over to talk to me. Little boy immediately lifted his head and started grunting and smacking my back with his small hand. I wasn’t sure what he wanted- I thought maybe he wanted me to walk around with him. So I started to walk and he just beat my back faster, almost like he was in a panic. 

Then I realized that his grunting was actually a very aggressive form of humming, and his smacking my back was a more panicked pat. 

So I stopped moving and resumed the humming and patting and he stopped, laid his head on my shoulder, and softly patted my back with his little hand. 

I mean, just shatter my heart- yeah?

All too soon it was time to go. I told him it was time for me to leave and he wrapped his little legs around my waist, his arms around my neck, and he held on for dear life. I slowly walked inside and with each step he tightened his arms and legs around me. I laid him down on the mattress on the floor where two other toddlers had already been placed and he looked up at me with big brown eyes and then he started sobbing. Like hardcore wailing.

My heart was crushed. He didn't say a single word to me, but he freaking broke my heart. I could hear his cries as I left the building. The bus ride back was quiet.

Day four we also went back to the school from day two. One girl excitedly announced to the rest, “yes, they’re back!” when she saw us waiting again outside.

At one point while interacting with the kids, I made the mistake of asking two girls if they were friends.

“No”, the first girl said to me. “I’m not friends with her because she’s too bossy.” The second little girl’s face fell and her shoulders sagged as she looked to the ground.

“Oh no!” I quickly replied. “She’s only bossy because she has great leadership skills!” The second little girl lifted her head, her eyes lit up.

“I do?” she asked, her voice dripping with innocence, her eyes filled with hope.

“Yes, you do! You’re going to learn how to be a great leader, and guess what? The world needs great leaders” I reassured her.

“But I don’t know how to be a leader” she admitted, with defeat threatening to take over her sweet little face.

“Oh child, but you will. You’ll learn. And one day, you might lead us all.” The second girl’s smile covered her sweet, small face as I said a quick prayer of thanks for Pinterest and whoever it was who created the pin that says all girls who are told they’re bossy should instead be told that they have leadership skills. Because no way I could’ve come up with that response on my own. 

 

#pinterestsaves #Jesussaves

The rest of day four was spent moving the remains of a house from one pile on the base to another better organized pile on the base.

I wish I was kidding. But they did tell us that it was helpful, even after we made fun of ourselves for relocating the pile just up the hill. Still, it kind of felt like a waste of time.

Either way, I like to think if God is cool with telling us that it’s okay to do nothing and wait, then God would also be down with us wasting time by moving a pile from place to place.

Day four was actually a big day because we went to another orphanage that evening. This orphanage was happy too- the kids were older and they had every right to be angry and hurt, but they were happy. They played barefoot soccer, they showed us their toys, they gave us tours, and they opened up about their lives.

I met little girl- she wasn’t actually little- she was 12- but somehow little girl feels like an appropriate name for her. Anyway, she immediately started telling me all about herself. She likes the color blue, she likes science and language arts, she plays football, she loves Tommy Lee, she taught herself to play the recorder, and she’s going to be baptized on the first Sunday in February.

Little girl also proudly showed me her bedroom, which she shared with a handful of other girls. Bunk beds lined the walls, clothes were overflowing from plastic bins, and backpacks were scattered on the floor. She asked me to guess which bunk was hers and was pleased when I picked the bed with the blue sheets. Never had I met a 12 year old so excited about her blue sheets. 

I tried to imagine a 12 year old American girl- proud of her bed sheets and the fact that she can (sorta-kinda) play the recorder. It's (sorta-kinda) impossible. When I was 12 I was mean. I'm not kidding- I was mean. I was looking through my mom's prayer journal from when I was a preteen (she told me I could), and it was filled with my mother's prayers for my troubled heart. 

Caitlyn's been acting out again. Caitlyn seems so angry. I don't know what to do with her. Caitlyn has such a bad attitude right now. 

Mom used to give us "Attitude Workouts"- they were just as terrible as they sound. We had to do chores until we apologized for having such a crappy attitude. And when you're 12 and your mom tells you that you've got an attitude, pretty much any chore that she assigns you is better than apologizing because in your stupid little mind, you're not wrong- mom's wrong. 

I was so freaking stubborn and I REFUSED to apologize. It got so bad that there were times when all the chores were done and mom would make me sweep the basement steps. Seriously. I knew I had her right where I wanted her when she would send me to the basement steps with nothing but a dustpan and brush. Except that I usually ended up crying because I knew that she was frustrated and I felt bad. But my point is- I was terrible.

And I had a mom and a dad who loved me. I had siblings. I had my own bedroom. I had a basement with steps. I had a dog. I had a piano (which I hated). And what did little girl have? She had parents who for whatever reason couldn't raise her. She had a bedroom that she shared with at least six other girls. She had a flimsy recorder. She had blue sheets. And she had a happy heart.

What could we possibly have in common?

Then little girl turned out the lights in her room and showed me that she had a galaxy on her ceiling.

And I gasped because when I was 12 I had glow-in-the-dark ceiling stars too. Still have them, in fact.

God bless the creators of glow-in-the-dark ceiling stars, because little girl was so proud.

This kid refused to eat. I couldn't relate.

A framed photo of each child.

Her old man hair had me cracking up!

I wasn't the only one who almost got taken out by boys on scooters.

Nichi accidentally referenced her wedding photos which she had access to on her phone. Then she started yelling, "No! Don't take it off airplane mode!" and I knew she needed help. So I took a picture. Then I helped.

"You mean you got married to this man and then he smashed cake into your face? But he loves you?" New concepts.

Little Girl with the blue sheets and the glow-in-the-dark ceiling stars.

Jamaica, no problem

Black is for the people. Red is for the blood. Yellow is for the sun. Green is for the grass. 

Last week at this time I was sitting on a small, sunny beach in the heart of Jamaica. I was staring out into the clearest water I’ve ever seen. I was relaxing under puffy clouds and a warm sun. I was snorkeling and swimming with Dory. I was laughing at the local men who promised me platinum credit cards if I would stay with them. I was being stretched and challenged. I was crying. I was smiling. I was shouting. I was singing. 

People keep asking me how Jamaica was, and I say good- it was so beautiful- I had fun- so much fun. That’s all true- it was good and beautiful and fun, but it was also exhausting and scary. 

I mean honestly, if you want to completely wipe out this introvert, send me to a beautiful island with a large group made up of a handful of my favorite people for a week. While I'm there you should set a rigid schedule, starting with breakfast at 6:30am, an entire day spent in the warm sun, endless small talk to fill downtime, several deep conversations with the aforementioned favorites, and ending with a bed time leaving far fewer than eight hours of quality sleep before the following morning’s 6:30am breakfast. 

Exhausted.

For real though, who’s hungry at 6:30 in the morning? I’m a lot of things at 6:30am. I’m angry. I’m confused. I’m hurt. I’m disappointed. I’m stressed. I’m sad. I’m usually cold.

I am never hungry. 

Then after getting home, I was thrown right back into real life and didn’t have any down time until Thursday afternoon. So with several piles of dirty laundry and an untouched suitcase scattered on my bedroom floor, I crawled into my sweet, sweet bed and slept for three hours. 

I haven’t had a three hour mid-day nap since college y’all. It was so great, I woke up and wasn’t sure what day it was, or why there was light coming through my windows. Like hardcore confused, that’s how good I slept.

So here I go. I’ll share my experiences with ya a few days at a time, so as not to force you to read until you can’t keep your eyes from crossing or you get so bored that you skip to the end and miss all the in between good stuff.

We arrived at the YWAM base in Jamaica around two o’clock in the afternoon on Sunday, January 8^th. I was exhausted after waking up at four that morning but I was also excited and itching to experience it all. But mostly I was exhausted.

Day one was pretty chill and relaxed. We got acquainted with our new home as well as with each other, learning names and faces as we walked and talked between the palm trees and up and down a thousand never-ending steps. 

The base is on a mountain- yay, that’s so great- so there’s just steps. Lord, have mercy.

Day one also provided me with my first attitude check- and not because of the steps. Leave it to me to have an attitude straight away. Oops, sorry God. Here comes the attitude workout, as my mom would say. 

There were some guests at the base who spoke in a way that really challenged me and of course, I met them day one. When they talked about their past experiences in ministry they said things that immediately initiated flashbacks to my childhood. Then my PTSD would flare up and I honestly could not keep myself from rolling my eyes so hard that I began to feel dizzy and sick to my stomach.

I’m telling you, all aboard the Attitude Check Express! 

I felt embarrassed for these people; I felt uncomfortable for these people; I felt hurt because of these people. 

Does that happen to you? When you hear people talking about God and ministry as though it’s like this high class thing and you’re just like- damn, y’all. Loosen the heck up! Un-bunch those panties and let’s have fun! But then they’re all- I’d prefer if we prayed about that, first. 

And then they close their eyes and bind the devil and throw him into the pit of hell, where he belongs, and then they pray and pray and pray until you’re just like- forget it, it’s not even worth it.

Obviously I’m exaggerating and yes I believe in the power of prayer and I’m sorry if I’ve offended you. 

But come on. 

I guess the thing that really got me going was when the one guy asked me what our plans were for the week and I told him half of the team was building a house and the other half was going to be visiting orphanages, schools, and a hospice center. 

His response was, “oh great, you’re going to go preach to the kids!”

And I said, “Probably not so much ‘preach’. Our goal is to show love to the people we meet and interact with, and help their staff in various ways”.

And he stared at me like I had three heads and then clearly confused, he asked, “Oh, so is no one in your group a preacher?”

And the eye rolling- it was consistent throughout this conversation and grew increasingly intense with every word the man spoke.

But then something kind of neat happened. After I realized that my most recent eye roll hadn’t gone unnoticed (oops), I slowly felt God opening my eyes to see what it was that was underneath all of the tacky religious jargon. I saw that their hearts were in the right place. I saw that God still loved them.

I also had a moment where I was truly grateful for the path I’ve walked with God- not necessarily something I would’ve acknowledged before encountering this small piece of my past. 

I saw the importance of relationship. 

I might not have the religious lingo down, but in my opinion the world doesn’t need any more preachers to throw fancy words in their faces. The world needs people who are people- real people- just as we are, to show love even when they don’t deserve it because we don’t deserve it.

The world needs people who are willing to show grace. 

The world needs Jesus, who washed people’s feet and gladly provided more wine after they were already wasted at that wedding. 

So then the Attitude Express chugged along to Over-It-Ville where it stayed parked for the rest of the week. 

Except no. 

The Attitude Express quickly stopped again on day two. We visited an elementary school where we sang with the kids before they started class. Afterwards, we were supposed to paint a wall.

But we had no paint, no brushes, no ladders, no buckets, no tape, no drop-cloths. 

NO PAINT. 

So we waited for about an hour while our leader went to purchase the paint. And we waited outside, where it was hot and there was nothing to do. No cellphone service, no wifi, no books, no TV- nothing. 

Couldn’t even check my Instagram, y’all. 

So you want to know what we did? We played hopscotch. And we sat there. 

Shocker- the Attitude Express because- hello? Why were we wasting our time?

And God said, “Caitlyn- it is okay to wait. Look around you. It’s okay to wait.”

I felt it in my heart and in my bones. 

So then I said, “Okay, God. Then show me what I can do in the meantime. What can I do while I wait? Who can I talk to, which relationship can I work on?” 

And God laughed at me and said, “Caitlyn- it is okay to wait. Look around you. It’s okay to do nothing and wait.” And then I smiled, because I remembered the number of people we passed on our walk to the school. We passed men sitting on benches, smoking weed. We passed women sitting on the side of the road, staring at traffic. 

And I knew that when we walked back at the end of the day, there was a good chance we would see the same people sitting in the same places, holding the same joints, staring at the same traffic.

It’s okay to just wait. And in Jamaica, it really is okay to just wait. It's okay to wait when your boss shows up at your painting job without paint. You smile and laugh with your neighbors while you wait. You sit and soak up the sun while you wait. You're happy to wait because why not?

If we tried that in Lancaster, we'd be sidelined so fast. It's too bad, I learned to appreciate the laid-back relaxed attitude. No hurry. Jamaica, no problem.

And not just in Jamaica- but in my life too. A few years ago I quit my job with nothing else lined up. Sure, it might have been a stupid move. But it also might have been exactly what I needed. 

I prayed and asked God to provide, and He did- with several short-term, part-time positions. I prayed for a specific job that I felt God had put on my heart and God told me to wait. 

Never did I expect to be working two part-time jobs as I turned 25. Never did I expect to be holding a college degree while working in a candy shop and playing dolls with a four year old. But that's where I am because of that freaking word- wait.

I don’t talk much about this, because I don’t like to overly-spiritualize my life. I feel like it comes across as naïve and I don’t want to be naïve. At the same time, I’ve tried so hard to make things happen and every single time my plans fall apart and God presses my heart and says, wait.

Just wait. 

Recently I’ve been feeling the push again to try and make something happen- to try and get a new job, or try and force relationships to achieve my end-goal but God shuts me down so fast and presses into my heart and says that same, stupid four-letter word over and over. Wait. 

Just wait. 

Cait, wait. I hate that my name rhymes with it. 

So maybe I’m naïve. Maybe I’m wasting precious time that I could be using to build an exciting, fulfilling life. But maybe not. 

Because look around you- it’s okay to wait. It's okay to just wait.

And if you disagree, then maybe I don’t care what you think. 

Did this just get awkward? Ohhh… I can tell you about awkward. I thought a good way to start conversation with the kids at the school would be to ask them to guess my age. 

35. Naw, 38! 

Seriously? Little boy looks at me with the sweetest innocence on his face as he responds, "My mama's 38".

And I looked that sweet boy in the eye and I quoted my girl JLo and I said, "I ain't yo mama".

doing that tourist thing at the airport

day 1 with bae and bae

the great house, located (conveniently) at the top of the mountain with a killer porch view and (also conveniently) where we all congregated during free time

playing hopscotch because wait

passing time with Jerry- or is that Tom?

little ones watching us paint their wall "campfire orange"