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!