Strange Isolation

This goes to a different level of personal. This has nothing to do with the ministry so you don't have to continue reading. This is just a personal hiccup. 

Standing in a room surrounded by hundreds of people. I feel so alone. It happened twice today.

First, we had Isabellas Christmas Show. Unless we wanted to move to the capital, Isa is in the best school on the coast. Not because we fit in with the rest of the people. Simply because a parent wants the best for their child. And here the best only offers a public school curriculum from the U.S. and the American teachers to back it. The sacrifice, for us, is worth it. It is funny as I look around the gymnasium. I kind of had a laugh. She is in a school with kids that come from better families. To put it into something you can understand. The children of the Honduran T.G.Lee and children of United Airlines in her class. The Paris Hilton of Central America can be seen walking down the school halls. Sweet Bella, the child of a humble dentist and foreign missionary. What glory! Laugh! I give you permission. It is what I wanted to do. 

Surrounded with people that I am afraid to talk to. 

Then, we had a Christmas Party!!! Fun, right? Not so much. I was surround by plastic stitched doctors and their wives. Yea, that category hits me. Hitched to an Oral Surgeon in the 2nd poorest country in this hemisphere. Taadaa! He is an associate in the only medical complex you want to visit. They swipe the coast from Trujillo on. Unless you can get to San Pedro, they can't be beat. That being said. The room is full of doctors married to doctors. The only way for you to "make" something of yourself if you don't own all the milk for 500 miles? Study and become a professional. Gynecologists married to pediatricians. Anesthesiologists with dentists. Obstetricians with neurologists. Why? It is the only way to survive in a country with a quarter of the income and same cost of living as the United States. It is cheaper to have a house keeper/nanny than to pay day care. We don't have one, sure would make my life easier. I could have Jayden here if I did. 

Feeling lonely. Inadequate. Ugly. Like flubber. 

I see perfection, beauty, and...

people that just don't care. 

People that greet with hugs and kisses. Asking how life and the cl..., what do you do again? I'm the oddball. Not just up in the States, here to. "Oh, thats right. You have all those kids." Quick, time to move on before this girl makes you feel guilty. 

I have learned to be silent. I answer what is asked. I push nothing else on people. Mr. Wonderful on the other hand seems to have some chip in him that says "make them all feel like crap!" He will talk all night about me and what I do. He likes them getting uncomfortable. 

The clock is quickly reaching midnight. Tapping Nilssons arm, "I need to go. I have to finish Christmas Baskets. I promised to make the cupcakes again." 180 cupcakes for the first feeding station await me. I stayed up until 4:30 in the morning and now I can't sleep. I only have to frost them and should probably get started. 

I have the worst job in the world. I am told this all the time as people watch me cry when the judge removes a child. Or when people see me pick a new one up. "Gringa, I could never do your job." My back hurts. My feet hurt. My heart hurts. I work longer hours than a doctor in residency. I love harder than 80% of the parents in this world. I will give you my shoes and I will go barefoot. 

But PLEASE, don't make me sit through another night like tonight. If the word sacrifice isn't in your vocabulary I feel like I can't be near you. And I? I should be proud and not insecure by why I am here. Something for me to work on. 

The Silence

It is quiet, cold, and thick. I don't know the words to say or how to act. The social worker greets me giving a list of ideas. Thoughts on paper, but no one knows.

The psychologist can confirm nothing. I am nervous and uncomfortable which is crazy. I have done this before. Still, silence seems like my best option. 

She is nine. She looks a little bigger than my niece that is turning four. She is nine. She is silent. She says not a word. Her belly looked like it was going to burst. Lack of nutrition, parasites, and her roots never having been grounded in love. I'm still staring. She isn't the worst of the cases I have seen. It is her silence that has gotten to me. 

The head of the region looks at me and says, "She is a challenge, but I think you are the right fit. If anyone can help her, it is you. Your homes are the best we have got. Your attention to her needs is exactly what it will take. You are our hope." Blinking, I scratch my head. I'm not sure of what he said. Our homes have so much room to improve. On any given day I can give notebook pages covered with ideas, staff members that I desire, activities to implement, I feel so inadequate. We are the best? How sad to hear! I know deep down we could be. It is the money and volunteers that I lack. 

Still pondering and staring, "Is it a yes? Will you take her?"  I ask for an hour to give a firm answer. Even after an all go from me, what will they say in the states? What will her new house mom say? After getting every one on board and deciding to take her, I want to go back and see if I can speak with her. He laughed at me. 

Naive. Maybe. Not speaking does not mean she cannot hear. Not speaking does not mean she is not capable. 

I wonder of the silence that greets me is a disability. I wonder if it is because her development was hindered. And sadly, I fear it is from the trauma that so many of these little girls face. I quickly remember the Keylas that didn't speak from shock. I pray that He intervenes. I hope we get to see a miracle take place. I wait for a change so drastic that we are not "their best", it will be so obvious that our home is where "He lives, He works!" Because when I look at how the pieces have come together, no man can take that glory.

Why Are You Crying?

It's been an emotional day for me. And several times I've had people look at me and ask what's wrong. I smile and tell them nothing bad. 

Then I got a text from a friend. He asked if it was a good cry or a bad cry. The truth is I didn't know how to respond.

At the feeding station today I was thanking the girls that helped out since Iliana and Karina were absent yesterday. One of them hugged me and didn't let go. "The only thing we want in return is Christmas baskets are we getting our Christmas baskets?", she asked. Unsure how to respond I looked at her and smiled. "I have faith and I'm believing."  What else could I say to her? 

I got in the car and I began to sob. If it were in my power each child would have a Christmas basket in the special present with their name on it and wrap. I feel brokenhearted. It isn't broken because I'm hurting and pain. Is broken with the passion and desire that I don't know what to do with. I don't know how to use it. I'm afraid to show it and share it. 

On days when everything I fought for and tried to make happen was stripped from my grip. On days when everything I'm working for seems to be working against me. And just when I started to lose hope. I see messages from followers sharing our story. I get messages from supporters sending in sponsorships. I get overwhelmed, as I am reminded, how everyone else cares too.

I wonder what it was like for Mary. She was bursting at the seams ready to give life. A life that she would one day watch be taken. Everything she poured herself into. She poured her life, her being, her everything into this child. I wonder what it was like for her as she watched Him get taken away as painfully as He entered. 

A burden that is carried, not by one, but my many. My heart still aches. 

It aches for what I fight for. It aches for everything we so desire to change and make different. I wonder if Mary knew that the life she fought to bring into the world, the very work she was judged for. I wonder...

Did the aching stop? Did it subside? Was she faced with the turmoil her entire life? Did she think she would die as she watched pieces of her very being have the air stripped from it? 

There is something so painfully similar to what has happened inside. And then Im reminded the feelings are shared. Im not alone. There is someone else there. Standing, fighting, caring by my side. I see it in your emails, your "shares", your texts, and your calls. I see you, I hear you, it gives me strength to move on. 

The Best Christmas Ever!

We have new neighbors. They have been here for a few months, but they are still new. They speak perfect English which I love, and they have a four year old that waits for Jayden to appear so she can play. 

My neighbors were deported after living in the states for more than 20 years. The wife is a citizen, but her husband is not. She got stuck joining him on this crazy adventure. 

Normally we talk about things they miss. A good church, real bathrooms, running water, electric that turns a light of when you flip the switch. Wait, electric that is reliable and only goes out when a big storm hits or something huge like that! A bit ago we began talking about Christmas. About the cost of living here, lack of income and an expense higher than what they had in California. The question of how they will celebrate the special day resonates in their heads. The yearning to have something special for an only child. The hope of being able to have a special celebration, party, or dinner. The fact is that all of this requires money. And just like most people they don't have any. 

Bad news for them, they were talking to me! Lol

I began to point out surrounding areas where the families are picking through trash to eat and survive. I reminded them of the day the garbage truck went by and the men working were eating the food found from within the garbage bags. I also shared the story of our feeding station children. 

The kids that eat at Las Brisas 1 and 2 are known to only have one hot meal a day because of our ministry. The kids are commonly know to have a dinner of a bag of chips that is so small it costs the equivalent of .05 cents. And no it isn't the same size as our lunch box chips found on the shelves in the states. These kids commonly pass through weekends without eating. This year Christmas is on a Wednesday. Our stations are closed this year on Saturday, Sunday, Tuesday (Christmas Eve), and Wednesday (Christmas Day). That means our kids will only be fed by us on three days that week. It is hard to find someone who will work for minimum wage that wants to work a holiday. 

I have kids that have been asking since October if they will be able to eat or if they will get one of the Christmas Baskets we try to pass out each year. We have 120 families that look for the baskets as a means of survival during the holidays. This year, it aches me to not know if they will eat. I think about how so many families will indulge. Turkey, ham, tamales, pork legs, desserts galore, finger foods, ponche... We eat until we bust. It pains me to know that even if I give what I have and we don't celebrate in my home there will still be babies rubbing their tummies. There will still be cries of little ones that can't figure out why their headhurts and belly aches. 

I am SO grateful for every blessing in my life. I am grateful that on the days when I didn't have milk for my son and I had already given away my last grain of rice that God has always sent someone with a blessing for our family. I am grateful that last year I was blessed by someone and we finally got a Christmas tree. I am grateful that every time I have been nervous and questioned God has provided. 

Right now, I am nervous. I am concerned. I am worried about the families that don't have the necessities, yet still believe that God is God. The families that rejoice when they have nothing. The children that have needs unmet and still believe that He is their provider. I want to make sure I am doing my part. I am making their need known. I am asking. I need $3,200 for these families to each receive a basket. 120 families.  If you will give $26.70 so a family can eat on Christmas will you please send a check to:

Open Door Ministries

P.O. Box 452831

Kissimmee, FL 34744

We are still dedicated to making sure 100% of your donation is sent to serve its designated purpose. Please write Las Brisas Christmas in the memo. 

Thank you for all of your love and support! Thank you for helping to make a difference with these children and families! Thank you for helping us make this Christmas the best one ever! 

Desires

I am facing one of the hardest seasons of my life. Im torn between having my son or completing tasks and focussing on our projects in Honduras. 

I don't have a nanny or a baby sitter. Jayden has never stayed with anyone except for family and that is only maybe a week a year. He is with me 24/7. If I am up, he is up. If I am in the shower, he is in the shower. If I am on a project, he is on the project. If I try to escape to the bathroomfor privacy I soon have raccoon hands pawing at the door. 

On the projects we don't have the assistance we need. Over the next few months I am faced with not only doing all of the previous responsibilities that I was challenged with accomplishing, but I now have to host teams alone for a season. 

How will I do it with a toddler in tow?

I have decided to leave him in the states a while with family. It was really my only option. 

That being said, my heart is breaking. My desire is to be with my family. My heart aches not having him here. He is my delight. He brings a smile to my face. He brings joy. I crave his presence. 

Do you crave the presence of a loved one?

How much greater does our Creator desire our presence? He wants to hear our praise. He wants to hear our heart. He wants to be known. 

If my heart is aching, how much more does His heart ache?

We are passing through the time of year when we are celebrating Him. The Savior. The only son that offered it all for us. How well do you know Him? How well do you know your Father? It is fun to celebrate the birth.  How well do you really know the birthday boy?

He CRAVES you! His desire is to love you! Don't get so caught up in celebrations and traditions that you forget to celebrate HIM! Spend time with Him. Feel His love and presence where you are at. That is His desire! Like a new parent that coddles their new born. Take time to let Him wrap His arms around you today!

He Cried, I Laughed!

Some days I am surprised by the harsh, cold, rude creature of a man that accompanies me through life.

On the days that I cry and break down saying "I just can't do this anymore!"or "I want to give up! Another one wants to run!" or "The judge ruled in favor of the drunk uncle that is only going to sell

her, why did I waste my time fighting!?!"

The days my heart breaks watching a child walk out the door. The days when I am gripped by fear of the unknown for the precious one that I can no longer control the safety or influence over their little life. The day that one of the girls I love most, changes her mind and bolts, shoving in my face every sacrifice that was ever made... Those days, I question. I cry. Those days, he laughs. He pushes me forward. He smacks me in the head until it is screwed back on straight.

He is really warm and kind. As warm and kind as an angry gorilla! He has ice around his heart and just stays focussed on his list of tasks. He stays away from relational connection and he doesn't have to worry about the attachment to any of our kids. Right?

Apparently, down inside, it was all bothering him too! I told him that I still have a couple kids that hung on my leg as I tried to drive away. Why? Not for me, FOR HIM! "Llevame!!! Por fa!" (Take me, please!) Just for an hour, cried one. "It can be five minutes and we can come right back!" Yelled out another fighting to touch my skin, hoping they could then clasp on. In a conversation I was trying to push my angry gorilla to come out again for a couple days. "Just leave the clinic and come stay a bit!" "No, Lauren! Someone has to work! I can't pay the lights right now." My hopes are always that he will say yes. Like a little girl pleading with her father to go inside the pet shop and look at all the puppies.

A few days later, I push the buttons again. "When do you think you can come out?" The usual reply is, "I don't know, when I don't have any patients scheduled." My thoughts? Well, that is never. You only have one day off a week and you don't want to have to make the drive, or not rest because then you are too exhausted to work afterwards. I never let my mouth babble this out, I try and hold it inside.

Then, on some random day, I get a message from my Angry Gorilla. He is currently a Sad Gorilla.  He knew we were battling the courts for some kids. He knew it didn't look like it was going well. "I just wish I could be the dad that they really need. The one they have never had. The one that can fix it. The
one that can show them the love of the Father." Sobs. He cried.

Guess that today it is my turn to laugh. I love that his hard shell is soft enough to crack. I love that in my human doubtful nature I have a partner that shares my pain and sorrow, but pushes through to the end with me.

For now, I laugh. (You are such a tough guy! LOL)

Thats My Daddy!

I have been randomly known to bring home pet projects. Last night, I remembered it is something I get from my dad.

My dad used to let the homeless stay at our house. Our garage had a room off to the side that they would make a bed up in, they had their own bathroom with a shower. I felt awkward at times walking into the house if there was a random guy outside. I remember my dad being so giving and helpful. He would put them to work, he took them to job sites, and in the end the money was typically used for booze. Addiction sucks the life out of them. There was one guy in particular that had stayed with us for months. Dad made sure he had a bicycle. He had given him jobs, and the guy found some side work on his own. He would come and go. He was even found at church from time to time. He was able to enter through a side door and was free to be on his own. He lived with us for a couple months then one day he disappeared. A little while later he was back asking for help. He would disappear again. He would be back. One night, my dad had a strange phone call. The guy had been hit by a train. It was sad, but I never really built a relationship with him. I didn't really care. A little while later my dad was cleaning out the room, throwing things in the garbage. How sad? A guy with no real family, shut off from society, never truly able to overcome addiction.

I don't know if my dad did this to ease his conscience. I never asked if my mom really wanted to help or if it made her uneasy. It doesn't really matter. Sometimes what we do in the flesh makes us uncomfortable. Every now and then we just have to do it anyways.

My dad can be described as many things. Some think he is rough, mean, aggressive, cold. (Typically only seen if you have to work with him!) Others think he is giving, warm, self-sacrificial, loving. One word, patience, it doesn't really describe him. The rest all fit depending on the situation.

Dad is selfless. He has been known to give away cars, computers, free re-models and repairs. He is the first to try and provide for the needs of those that need it most. He has a soft spot for widows. He is the hardest worker I know. He will bend over backwards to make you happy even if it puts his back out of place.

He is not the type of teacher you want in a classroom. He is a teacher by lifestyle. One to model your actions after. Why? Because he gets something...

Temporary discomfort brings Heavenly Rewards!!!

Its Easy! Yet Hard!

Happy Thanksgiving! I know this is delayed. I was trying not to write. I didn't want to hurt any feelings.

Last Thursday was awkward. I was greeted by family that I love, but feel so different from. I was hugged and felt warmth, but still a frigid coolness that creeped over. I got to stuff my face with food that I no longer desire to eat. There was so much that it made me sick. I still had a bite of EVERYTHING, don't worry. I was surrounded by people that may be a part of me, we share blood, but don't have a clue what life is really like. They don't comprehend what it is really all about.

I was asked questions that were ridiculously insane.  "How is life down there?" "So what do you really do?" "What is it like?" "You love it, don't ya?" "How do you walk in those shoes?" "You must love living there, its so easy, right?"

My own family... They have no clue. I think I want it to stay that way. At the same time, it breaks my heart!

To those that know me from the work you have seen in Honduras, you know nothing about my secret desires of the past.

Growing up with a house too big too clean, swimming pool, spa, a foyer that was larger than my current bedroom, vehicles that only had the name exotic or luxury attached, a garage that is the size of our little home we now rent, a private driveway that was longer than the length of our current neighborhood, a personal bathroom that had two sinks and extended counter-tops so I never had to share. The screen room to the pool was larger than the average home. And everything around was decorated like a magazine, even the yard. Dad had the landscape guy change the flowers according to the season. Resort style. I was the girl that never walked out of the house without heels, make-up, and my hair sprayed rock hard. The girl that was well traveled. The girl that never hosted the parties for fear of what they would all say after being on the inside.

I was called the spoiled brat and I was referred to as the snob. Not just by friends, some cousins too. I once got into a dispute with a friend at school because a girl called me a rich snob. That week my dad had sold one of the cars so he could pay some bills. We were blessed. We were above blessed. But I also knew what it meant to make sacrifices. And sometimes you had to down size and decrease spending to maintain the good life. As much as we had materially, dad taught us Kingdom responsibility. Well into my twenties I worked the material things. I kept a pretty good life on my own. If I desired it, I had it. I realize now what I wanted and achieved then, is what people into their 50's still are hoping to attain, one day...

That was then!

Because my then is the only way my family sees me, they don't come close being able to comprehend my now.

Mattress made of cardboard setting on the floor.
No Air Conditioning
A shower that is a bucket of cold water and a cup used to pour it over my head.
Most days my dishes are done in the same way.
Laundry that is done by hand.
An old TV that is the size of my head
Cars that are at the mechanics once a month. One of them spending more time in the shop than running.
No closets
No furniture other than the crummy living room set and dining room set that the termites are eating. (Its okay, they are nothing pretty or spectacular.)
I work longer hours than a private business owner and for no pay.
I have a family that says I have time to raise everyone else in the world except my own blood.
I have heated conversations with my husband over the mold, rat poop, and dust all over the house. (I'm allergic to dust mites and animals and it causes an instant headache upon entry.) These conversations end in me crying once I realize how little time I spend at home and finally acknowledge my unavailability to clean for my family like a normal woman.
I have a child that is supposed to start school next year. (Public school goes to middle school and the kids come out ignorant and unstimulated! Private School option only, but yea... I no longer hold a real job.)
I get to see my entire family? NEVER   When I am home someone is always gone and I get to work on some newsletter, financial statement, or some random office project.
My last vacation was in 2005.
I spend my days being pulled in three hundred different directions because each child or worker has something urgent.
I have no time for me.
When I stay at the home for the kids I am up until 2am and back up at 5:30 so I can try and "get it all done".
I get to deal with Religious Legalism that tries to make every child conform to their law or they go to hell. (This leaves me with hours trying to comfort a girl that she is not going to hell because of the music playing on the street or at school.)
Then the language/cultural barrier that I am still trying to comprehend in SO many ways.
I am the only full timer I know that has no support or mission backing, no income, and no maid.
(House workers are common because of the intense work required to maintain the lifestyle and long hours required when working a ministry.)


There you have it.  I now live with the poorest of the world, not just amongst them. I live just like them. The orphans in our home eat better than we do on most days. They have better furniture. A better built home. A better water system.

But there is something in me that I have no matter how I choose to live my life. I have joy. It wasn't found in my black onyx travertine marble or granite beauties that surrounded my home. It wasn't found in the cars or luxurious items that I could find at my dads growing up. It wasn't found in the unforgettable vacations. But this is stuff that not even my family fully comprehends. It is fine to build a beautiful life. I won't lie. I miss driving my Lexus. I am pretty sure Nilsson misses his Mercedes. Nice things are fun and sometimes very worth the money. I am not currently a lover of Kia or Chevy. I would like to try at Nissan and Ford, or so I think. There are days when I miss going out every night of the week because I didn't feel like making dinner. I don't really know how to get you to understand how I live unless you come and see it. If you knew my before, you still won't believe it.

A couple months ago a missionary made a comment about me being the LAST girl she would have thought was going to move to Honduras. I stayed at her home when I was fourteen, I believe. That was from a missionary. Lol. What did I do? What was so wrong with me?

In May, a friend from school came to Honduras. I knew him since I was about ten. He rubbed his head one day saying out of everyone in school I was the least likely to end up here in Honduras. Why? What was it?

Just because of how life was lived?

These comments make me laugh. God calls. We just have to answer. For a while I may have been caught up in the newest Prada find (which I just found in a box and want to sell if you are looking!) I may have been distracted by the pretties that surrounded me. I liked to go to the store and find new home decor year round. It wasn't that I didn't hear Him, I just liked to distract myself from the burden I now feel so intensely.

My family, they will never fully get it. A couple will, but not all of them. Why would I give up the best in the world and choose to take the worst?

I think when Jesus died on the Cross that was exactly what he was doing. He gave up the best. He was born like you and I. He came to save the world, nothing else. He didn't have to. He did it anyway. He set an example for us to follow. I don't want to be a martyr. I pray the blood over me and my family. I plead for His protection. I follow His lead. I love the least of these. I caress the dirty, smelly, rotten of man kind. I live amongst them. I pray that my life, my love, my joy will flow out of me and onto them. I pray that they catch a glimpse of the love of the Savior and they grasp onto Him. I pray they learn the true treasures in life. I pray that a difference is made with the love and support that is provided when all they have ever known is rejection, hurt, lack. But I am willing to do what He wants me to do.

Not everyone will get that. It is far from easy. This life is the hardest I have ever lived. Most days I hate it. I hate not being able to fix the world. It sounds cliche, but I desire World Peace. I desire to heal the hurts and sorrows and provide a brighter future to those that have nothing, no one, and no way.

You aren't helping them, so I guess I have to. I don't say that with bitterness. So few are helping. I know! I was one of them! I was worried about housing upgrades and kicked myself for not getting that Bentley. Life is about SO much more. It is so easy. It is hard to let go. Relying on Him takes FAITH! With time and practice, it gets SO easy! Here or there, what are you going to do? What will you risk? Will you answer Him? Will you accept the challenge and step out in Faith? Someone needs you. Near or far. Someone is in need. Are you willing to be His hands and His feet? Your family may not understand. It doesn't matter. You know in your heart. He is calling!

Snagged...

I wrote this back in March and never posted. Funny, no matter how much we work on ourselves our flaws seem to snag something and hold us back!

You know that old saying... The grass is ALWAYS greener on the other side. How many times do you think you hear that growing up? I am sure between my gram, mom, and dad I have heard it at least a thousand times. Probably more. Yet I still get confused and forget it.

From time to time, I have kids that want to swap projects. They want to flip house moms, exchange beds, trade clothes, and live what they envision to be the perfect life the other is living. WHY? I don't get it. They are CRAZY!

Sometimes I am really quick to judge. Sometimes I jump to conclusions. Sometimes I too forget God has me where I am at for a reason.

I see another ministry that looks better developed, more structured, has more funding, and a lot more on the ground support, and my mind begins to wonder what it would be like to swap jobs with another missionary or minister in the states. When I dreamed as a little girl of being a doctor... I didn't think it would be on the spiritual and emotional level I find myself nurturing people back to health each day. I thought it was medicinal and would serve a physical purpose.

How easy is it for me to look at kids I went to high school with that are now practicing medicine and think about how wonderful it must be? I wish I had done _________. I wish I was more ___________. I wish I could just ________.

This is not something that has an occupational barrier. Those thoughts swiftly rush in about my husband, my kids, my home, my spiritual walk, you fill in the _________.

The truth is the grass is always greener in the areas where it is cared for the most. What are you spending your time nurturing? What are you fertilizing or feeding? What areas are you watering?

If you look around the housing developments you find some yards that are beautifully manicured. They are natural. It takes landscaping crews hours to develop, days to plant, and weekly visits to maintain. If you aren't happy with an area, what are you doing to change it? If you think someone else has it better, easier, or everything just looks prettier to you... STOP! Re-evaluate your own maintenance plan and start cleaning house. It is time for us to do some SERIOUS SPRING CLEANING!

It all depends on you! You can make it as easy or as hard as you want to, but bottom line is it depends on your choices and your actions. 

The Unspoken

Why is it that most of the time the days we feel the MOST joy we are smacked in the face with an overwhelming sorrow?

She was scared and nervous. The doctor asked her to change and put on a gown. She looked at me for assurance. I can only imagine that her hesitation was really fear that gripped her. The only male interaction she has ever had was unhealthy and full of abuse. I nodded to her hoping to push her along and she slowly proceeded to do as was asked of her.

As she walked in with her new ugly robe she sat on the edge of the bed with hesitation. She laid back as though it hurt her the closer she got to touching the cold vinyl. Again, I just smiled.

The doctor explained that she would be able to watch the big plasma that was hanging on the wall in front of us. As he began to move the cold jelly tickled her slightly. I looked up and saw a hurricane on a screen. I giggled. “Do you realize what that is?”  She shook her head harshly, but didn’t ask for an explanation. “Wait, you don’t know what that is?”  I scratched my head no believing what she just said. “IT’S YOUR BABY!!!!!!”  She didn’t smile. She didn’t nod. She didn’t react at all.

“WE ARE GOING TO HAVE A BABY!!!” The blur on the screen bounced around like a Mexican jumping bean. I was elated. She showed NO emotion at all. Suddenly, I fought back tears. “Lauren, you seem ready for another child.” I didn’t know what to say. I am, I think. “Yes, one day…”  I was smacked in the face with a big glop of jealousy, envy, and a side of anger. I wanted to ask if she didn’t realize that there are thousands of woman crying for a child and they are waiting for an answer for prayer. The emotion of every miscarriage I had overwhelmed me. Why? I immediately want to ask God why her? Why not me?

She just turned 13 only two weeks ago. She was twelve. She was twelve when she was abused day after day. Her mother knew nothing. She was afraid of the reaction that would be thrust upon her if she spoke negatively of the mom’s current lover. So she stayed silent.

She wanted none of this. She is now forced to raise a creation she wanted no part in making. She gets to do it without her blood family. I wanted all of it. I dream of holding another baby. The worst part of it all? I allowed my emotions to get in the way of a serious ministry opportunity. AGAIN!!!

Why do I do this? Why is it such a struggle to set ourselves aside and focus on another for more than just a few minutes? Why did I not consider how I would feel if I was her? She is lost, sad, scared, and lonely.

That is her reality.  Now is yours really that bad? Find your joy! AND KEEP IT!!!

Stubbornly Helpless!

Maybe I am wrong, but I think everybody at some point goes through this awkward stage of becoming an adult. We try to take control and act like we know everything. Then we feel pressure. We think we will crack. We ask for outside help. We don't accept the advice from the outside helper. Then we spazz as we realize we have royally screwed something up. So finally, with desperation, we cry out to God and ask for help.

This is becoming more and more real every day.

I am noticing so many of our kids that have these issues. Some with school, some with family life, some with their "new siblings", some with the house moms, some with church. They all have something. Almost always they think they know the best way to do something or handle it.

I have a girl that had some school shoes that were really kind of sick. For three days I told her to put some shoe glue on the soles so she wouldn't have problems on her way to or from school. She ignored me! A couple days later she came home from school dirty, white socks turned brown, and with tears on her face. Her shoe fell apart and she was forced to walk with one shoe almost the entire way home from school. "Now will you help me glue it?" she couldn't even look me in the eye. "OF COURSE!!!" How easy it is for someone who has experience to step in and try to help us avoid a painful lesson. Yet, how common it is for us to want to do it all on our own!!!

What are you not letting God help you accomplish in your life? What has someone older or wiser been trying to help you avoid that you aren't listening to? There is wisdom in years. It is SO easy for us to admit we messed up and just ask for ask. Except for when we let our own pride get in the way! Sometimes we all just need to ask for a little help!

What It Really Is...

You know those days when you have SO much to say that you don’t know where to really begin? 

It is my fault. I took to long to write. I took to long to sit down and jot out some ideas. I have so many things to share and not many would you really want to hear about, but I still want to share.

We are packed! That is one that I am both proud of, and cringe in shame. In one year we have nearly doubled in size. Not in the size of houses. I mean kids. Why? Because I lack the word “no” in my vocabulary. Is this good? It depends on whose glasses you are wearing. Do you think my mom and dad jump up and down when I say there are more kids? Maybe, depending on the day. We all celebrate and at the same time we bite our fingernails wondering what is happening.

We have broken the odds. We fit into no mold. We never have, I am not sure why this still surprises me. 

We have done more work, touched more lives, and seen more success (depending on who you ask!) than any other mission our age in this country. Most people wait TWO years for approval to open a home. We waited less than a week. The number of kids that have been under our influence? I need to pull out all the old files so I can give an exact number, but it would knock your socks off. The amount of lives that have been touched, AMAZING!

I was recently asked AGAIN about our success stories. Well, what do you consider success? The fact that we are still open, and operating BY FAITH, and can continue to do all that we do, THAT is success.  Having girls that come in and are 11, 12,13, 14, 15, and even a 16 year old with kids that have never been in school and teaching them to read and watching them go through sixth grade, (The majority stop after 6^th country wide.), is pretty impressive. The girls that have come from abuse or have been abandoned and stick around because they recognize family, that is pretty awesome. The ones that runaway looking for their “real family”, and realize God has placed them in our home with their new family so return still leaves me astonished. And we have some that have left their young babies behind so they can work and try to find stability and they come “home” on vacation to see us and visit their kids. Those are success stories. Kids that now know, accept, and embrace unconditional love. What could be better? Little by little, one life at a time, a difference is being made.

A couple weeks ago Sandra, one of the first girls accepted into the home, had her youngest son in the hospital. I went on rotation with her as you cannot leave the patients unattended due to the lack of medical staff. On the third day I was exhausted. I wanted to leave. I was ready to go home and see my own family and play with my own kids. I was wanting to cuddle, and read bed time stories with Jayden. I just didn’t want to be sitting on a cold, hard, metal stool for another minute. Sandra finally walked back in the room. I went to buy more medicine and additional syringes to get them through the night. When I returned, I placed the items on the floor close by and started to say goodbye. I turned to walk away and Sandra tapped me on the shoulder followed with a nudge. I turned to nudge her back and gave her a look like she was silly. “Mama Lauren.” I looked at her with a smirk, still half playing. “Yes, Sandra?” “I don’t have a real mom, but I know what that love would feel like because of you and Mama Penny. Thank you for loving me, showing me, and accepting me.”  I wasn’t sure how to respond. I just kissed her head and squeezed her tight. That, my friends, SUCCESS!!! On the deepest level!

A culture so bombarded by the abandoned. In a country where you throw out people like you would throw out garbage. She senses a true love. A pure love. She can relate more closely to the unconditional love of our father because of how we allow Him to use us. We may not be touching the multitudes today, but we are raising the hands and feet that will reach the multitudes tomorrow.

Is there anything better than that?

Just Another Lump Of Clay

Out of the many people that come and go… There are few that stick around forever. This is something we all know very well. Each person that comes to the homes in Honduras definitely leaves their mark behind. All of them special and touching in their own way.

They all bring certain stamina to help us continue or bits of motivation. Some of the new ones help catapult me to the

 next level. It is odd though. The old ones, the seasoned ones, the ones that I had long forgotten and then suddenly re-appear… It is those that seem to keep me going for the long haul.

Having Teachers. Counselors.  Friends. Pastors. The significant relationships that helped create who I am… I am talking people from my past. It is currently my past that is pushing me forward. Normally I would neglect my history and focus on my future. Despite what my old history teacher taught me to do with learning history to avoid major pitfalls in the future. I want to keep my eyes straight ahead and look for what is coming down the road. But what am I driving? Where is the energy coming from? What is it made of?

Today, I had sort of an Aha Moment! He is the Potter, and I am the clay. I am still clay. And I always thought of Him as THE POTTER. Then, as ridiculously elementary as this is I remembered the hands
of The Potter. Nowadays, His hands are referred to as the church. And frankly, I, like many of you, have issues with what we now call “the church”. Back in the day, however, the church was a community of people. For Stephen it was small groups of people in homes. People that were hands. The hands of the Potter. I am clay. Clay that has been pushed, smashed, nearly destroyed, and molded back together. Not just by Him, but by you. By the people that love me. The people that KNOW me. The people that raised me. The people that molded the people that raised me. It takes more than parents to raise a child. It takes a community. My family did a great job, but so much more was left pressed, pushed, shaped, and molded by teachers. Pastors. Friends.

I find great motivation in having people that know who I was, and those that helped create who I am, come see and be a part of what I do. It drives me.

The fingerprints that have been etched in my clay are molded into my hands. My hands that now touch the lives of young ones around me. I leave my print, but in essence, I leave yours.

Please Sir, I Want Some More!

I did it again!!!    I ate my words.

I decided that I would take nothing else on. Accept no more responsibility. Bring home NO MORE KIDS. You know, until I had more help.

Yup, I blew it. AGAIN!!!

Maybe it was me. Maybe it was my mom. Maybe it was really God. I am so confused that I cannot tell you what really happened.

Some how, we just grew again! In the midst of trying to clean up messes and working on figuring out what motivates the teen girls to make such awful decisions, and catch up on everything I left for someone else to do, but don't remember any job in particular that I have to do...  I think I may have said yes to one too many kids. Fighting the feelings of hyperventilation I am looking for new sponsors, more uniforms, additional baby supplies, and increasing the food supply, AGAIN!

Only one of the five new kids this week was planned. The rest, just sort of happened.

There was a commotion as a lady began to try to steal two children from a young girl walking through the market. The girl was 17 year old Miriam. She was looking for work and had her two kids and her 13 year old sister by her side. While the sisters were fighting for the kids, a man began to grab one of the sisters pushing her towards a car. Luckily, the noise drew attention and some assistance came to their rescue. The girls were taken to a safe place with the two babies and eventually we were called for help.

The story grows deeper. The girls were sent away from their home in the mountains by their mother. The step-father was trying to sell them to neighborhood men. The mom knew that the only way to protect them was to get them out of their village. The 17 year old was already left with a soon-to-be 3 year old and a 22 month old. The little sister would only be forced into the same lifestyle that was pushed upon the older sister.

So here we are sitting in a room with the four kids. Pretty little girls that were being taken advantage of and weren't allowed to study beyond third grade. We have a home that is full to capacity, and don't have the provision to bring home more children. Then, I look down as my son rolls his ball over their shoeless feet. That was all I needed to see. I didn't even want to look at my mom to see her reactions or thoughts.

I look up and nod at the psychologist assuring her we will do what we can. What was left to do? What would you have done? Do you say no I don't have a crib for your baby? Or do you take them home and make it work?

They are here!!!  The stress of it all is starting to sink in. It has pushed us over to the next level and we are looking for more permanent help. We need more baby items and also more toddler clothes. The girls have already been attending school at the Gates Of Hope and are adjusting to their new life styles. We are looking to God to provide more. I think He misunderstood when I asked for more though. I meant resources. He gave me kids.

His timing is always perfect. His plans are bigger, better, deeper, and wider. We started 2013 with goals that were going to push us to the next level. We are only in June. He is meeting us right where we are at and carrying us forward. We have new ministry opportunities. New partners. New buildings in the works. And continued progress on the existing areas. It is SO exciting! It is something only He can orchestrate. He is using SO many of you to help and assist. Thank you! Your help. Your service. Your donations. Your faithfulness. Your support. Your prayers! You help make it all happen.

Thank you for believing in us and helping us touch lives! Thank you for making a difference in the lives of these children!

Green with Envy!

Lately at the Gates of Hope I am having issues with girls fighting jealousy, greed, and envy. The words that come from feelings of jealousy only lead to feelings of hurt by the other party. That hurt then turns to anger and eventually retaliation. It is really a vicious cycle. That same vicious cycle follows us our entire lives! From our youth, to adulthood, marriage, families... It is there!

What if we all paused in those moments of bitter hurt and frustration? What if instead of retaliation we hesitated for a moment and prayed? What if when we felt anger we sought Him to fill up our hate tank with love to the brim so it could do nothing other than pour out in every area?

I am trying to convince the girls to imagine what it would be like to be the other person. In order for me to teach them, I must first do this myself. Lately, I have been in the middle of a lot of gossip, hate, and accusations. I have been dealing with people going over me with a magnifying glass looking for areas in my life where I am at fault. In the beginning I shrugged it off. Then as I heard it begin to grow and realized the gossip lines were ringing non-stop, I got mad. I was hurt, so I began to feel angry. Then I became bitter.

A wise person came along and like a mother hen helped pick me up and brush me off. "Lauren, stop giving them validation! If I could go to them and put a stop to it, I would!" Something about those words resonated inside of me. First, she believed in me. Second, she helped me realize I was giving the crazy talk power and letting it rule me. I quit wanting to work. I was become frustrated with the kids. I was angry at the job I was doing. I let the words being spoken hurt my core to the point where I questioned why I was going to continue working. If I don't do my job it will cease to exist because I don't see any of the pointing fingers down here by my side helping raise me up to be able to continue. That just continued to push me down, but only because I allowed them to. Then I wanted to retaliate. Any speckle of an issue that they thought I had in my life was minuscule compared to the unjustified gossip and judgement. Then I realized I had started to point my finger back. Worse I felt Gods tug... "Hey kiddo, their actions do not justify your reactions! Love. I gave you love!" But God... Mine are just thoughts. I am not shouting from the mountain tops!! And none of their complaints are currently justified!

Sometimes God stops responding. Why should He waste time speaking to a deaf person? Thankfully, THIS TIME, I was smart enough to finally shut up and listen.

Love. Sprinkle it with love. I was taught to love. It is easy for me because I had a great teacher. I had Him. On top of my Abba Father, I had great parents that taught love. It isn't easy for everyone. And sometimes one word, one look, or even one moment of silence can cause hurt. Hurt will always turn to anger in the end unless we seek Him first.

Things I am learning: AGAIN!

Don't give words the power to rule you and keep you doing what you know is right and true.

Don't be afraid to be real, to be you, even if it means you are going to hit nerves with people. When a person has a deep wound sometimes it takes cleaning it out and hitting nerves that will cause pain before it can heal properly.

Never stop, not even for a minute, believing that God will use every bit of the bitterness experienced in life to bring Him glory!

Always rely on Him. He never stops guiding and bringing direction or providing protection!

1-800-Pest-Man!

Its over guys. My world is coming to an end! I am turning thirty!!! The last year has been full of changes in my body, hair, mind, and anything else I am forgetting to mention. A few months ago I remember commenting on looking forward to it. Women in their thirties are beautiful to me. Twenties is just fun, but there was something about thirty that seemed dignified, elegant, luxurious even. I dreamed of having a real birthday celebration for a change. Actually being surrounded by friends. Old and new. Thinking that all my old girls who are also now at this same corner stone would be around to help celebrate the loss of my youth.

It didn’t happen! None of the glamour I “thought” was going to happen seemed to appear. To make matters worse I began to re-evaluate the situation. This happens a lot! When I see the need that surrounds me and start to feel depressed the first thing I do is contemplate WHY I AM HERE! WHY HONDURAS? I can’t help it! I am still human.

Adding to my emotional retardation... It has been raining a lot! I MEAN A LOT! Like I cannot drive through town because the water is up over the hood of the suburban. This means that bugs, insects, and rodents are looking for dry ground. They are forcing their way inside my humble aboad. As if the normal couple of them that I find sleeping with me are not sufficient I now have an army of roaches living in the house. I pick up a shoe and one crawls up my leg. I move a cabinet door and there is another rat staring at me. This, sadly, is my breaking point!

I can live with having someone that I know personally being killed every week for a cell phone. I can live with kidnappings. I can live with no electricity 50% of the time in this crazy town. I can live with never having enough water to bathe or finish washing the dishes and laundry. I can live with the ignorance of making me stand in line for two hours at a bank to have me reach the counter and tell me there is no system. BUT DO NOT ASK ME TO LIVE WITH ROACHES! I can kill spiders. I can kill snakes. I cannot, however, for the life of me kill roaches and rats. They reproduce on an hourly basis I swear! PLEASE SEND ME TRULY NOLAN!!

Dealing with creatures makes me contemplate my existence on this earth. Sad, but true.

After spending all day crying over my miserable life that I at some dumb point in my life “chose” for myself. (Yep, stupid me, I make dumb decisions that plague me for life.) I read a message from a sweet friend wishing me a happy birthday. This woman was a scrap book queen, best mom, decorated for EVERY holiday ever, and now… Now she has mastered sending all these cute picture messages via facebook. Almost like bookless scrapping. Looking at her message made me jealous. She made me miss home. She made me think about the exotic vacations I used to take on a regular basis. She made me think about the glamorous life I once lived. And part of me missed it. I miss the nice things. I miss pretty pedicures, spa treatments, beautiful clothes that had their own jewelry and shoes to match everything. But then my friends message also put me back in check.

I commented on her post dreaming about meeting some place around the Bahamas for another adventure. She replied, “I think of that day more often than you realize.”

I was puzzled for a minute. Why God? What was so special? She still travels. It is me that does nothing fun. She still lives that life. Why does she think about that day? With me? It was nothing, just fun.

“Don’t let off the throttle!!” It was a day of adventure with crystal clear water. It was also her first time sitting on a jet ski. She was scared and nervous. Silly to some, but it was kind of a big deal for her. We were in the Carribean Sea on a jet ski. Trying to calm her I began to give her some instruction. “Look, whatever you do if you see a wave, don’t let off the throttle. Push through it.” Sitting on the back, letting her take control, I was concerned. All I could do was encourage, guide, and remind. “Don’t let off the throttle!”

It was one of my favorite experiences EVER! I had so much fun that day that I think everyone needs to experience it. However, God is also using it as a life lesson for me.

Things here are sticky, stinky, and dirty. Actually, a lot of things here are ugly. Yet, I am surrounded by His beautiful creation. This country is gorgeous. PLUS! Every time I get scared, nervous, or want to give up and go back to my pretty life I get this nudge… “Don’t Let Off The Throttle!”

He has called us on purpose and with purpose. He uses all things to work for His good in His timing.

No matter where you are or what you are doing. You are here, now, in this very moment reading this babble by me ON PURPOSE.

Press in, lean forward, and keep pushing on that throttle. You cannot just walk away because it looks dark and dirty or hopeless.

I can’t imagine what happened and the feelings that were incurred as the Israelites questioned God as they wandered for 40 years waiting to get to the promised land. 40 years!! He provided for their needs and He was faithful seeing them through. What if they had thrown their hands in the air and said forget it? What if they had committed mass suicide because it was “too much”? What if they surrendered to the roaches and rats and allowed themselves to be carried into the ugly rat chambers and eaten alive? Yes, they questioned. Yes, they doubted. Yes, they had fear. They were human. But they pushed forward anyways and He was faithful!

So no matter what… Don’t let off the throttle! And flick that crazy roach back into its filthy nest and run for the RAID! Or just call the pest man! ;) God always answers your calls.