The Rains Came Down

For over a year I have been posturing myself to move onto other projects. I have had the heart to grow us in new directions. And I know that my deadline is a couple months away.

And the rains came down. 

Talking and planning and getting excited. Walking by faith as each step trembles a little with fear. By faith, we walk on water. By faith, we grow. Dealing with what has felt like contractions for a long time I got hit in the nose. 

A couple days ago I was informed that I had to take a bunch of old responsibilities back over. Not that it is a BAD thing, but before I can release it I need to focus on developing character and infrastructure. I know it will be okay. 

BUT! You know when it rains on my parade it can't just sprinkle, it has to downpour. Losing sleep trying to figure out the what's and how's left me feeling down in the dumps. It's not just one little thing. It is a bunch of things all at once. Well, more like a bunch of big things. Then something crazy silly happened that I want to share. 

Sunday, at church, after debating how the service was going to work out and deciding Yuri was going to be a one man show because some of us felt we had little to offer... He sang a kid song. 

"The wise man built his house upon the rock... the rains came down and the floods came up", and what came next? Nothing! The foolish man that lacked a solid foundation lost it all. But the wise man was steady, he brushed the drops off and carried on with life. 

This means several things to me. Most importantly, I need to yank my extended hands onto my foundation. And just as important, trust and continue in faith because I know who my foundation is and do not doubt the rock on which I stand. 

Growing pains hurt almost at much as birth pains sometimes. But the baby that is to come will be worth it. And the success of these kids... Worth so much more. 

How will you be affected by your rain storm? Are your feet planted firmly? Don't waiver. Trust and believe in your solid foundation. 

Tents are luxurious!

"Mom? I'm hungry." I was frustrated. I didn't have time for the extra distractions. "You just had lunch at school." 

A few hours pass. 

I see him asleep in the back seat of the car. Trying to wake him up he grabbed at his stomach. "Jayden, you have to go to practice. Hurry up!" For the next two hours I see him randomly pull at his stomach. After practice he asked for a snack. "No, we will have dinner as soon as it is ready." 

We were sitting at the table and he inhaled his plate and asked for more before I could blink. "Jayden, what's up dude?" "I told you I was hungry!" Scratching my head I imagined he was ready to grow some more. 

The next day on the way to school he points out a classmate. "That is who I give my lunch too." "What do you mean give your lunch? You eat your lunch. It is for YOU!"  "Mom he doesn't have money to buy food and his mom doesn't send him anything."

Epic fail as a mom. I sit and reprimand and don't ask the right questions. His compassion shines through everywhere he goes. He loves, helps, shares. And I forget. Sometimes I get cold and numb to what is around me. I get tired of the garbage pickers going through my trash and dumping crap all over the front of the house before the truck comes by. I get tired of there always being someone next to me and in front of me that is need. I have gotten so exhausted that I have started to become cold. I need my blinders removed.

Sometimes I give so much, so hard, and for so long that I forget to give back to me. If I give back to me and take a few minutes I am not as toxic and cold. And maybe I will start to ask the right questions. 

For instance. Maybe there is a problem with migration for more reasons than danger. Starting with the lack of education and poverty. What would you do and where would you go if you never had food for your child? Imagine for a minute a shack with walls made from sheets and a roof made from a tarp. You may call it camping, but your tent is way to nice for what I am talking about. What if your only pot had a hole in it. Your kitchen spoon was a stick and your stove was an open fire under the rain drops. No refrigerator. No cabinets and pantry full of boxed/canned goods. You had to make what you found around you in the garden or what you could aford to buy for your family after earning your wage of less than $2 for your whole days work. How are you going to feed your family? What will you do as you stare at your child gripping his gut because he hasn't eaten in two days? That my friends is the reality of where we live. 

Labeled

I am writing this on such a personal level, I don't want to post it. I know so many people will read this that follow the ministry and will probably over analyze the words written. But I have decided I don't care.

I am writing this for myself, for my true friends, and for those that consider themselves my family. If you are not in that category you may want to stop and close out this page NOW.

I have been labeled. You have been labeled. We have all been labeled. And I find it repulsive.

One of my girls doesn't want to go to school any longer because she is 16 and has a 4 year old daughter. Kids at school make fun of her. She is labeled with "run around," "prostitute", "easy". Nobody thought to ask if she was raped or abused. I don't know of any little girls that want to be thrown into an abandoned building as they walk home from school and taken advantage of. But the outcome is a beautiful little girl. A life we rejoice in. She has an excellent Father from above who has provided for her and her mom. And no label applies here. I am proud of her mom for persevering and marching forward in life to try and improve her future. She is doing great and deserves to be lifted up and showered in words of praise.

I am divorced. I am fat. I am ugly. I am mean. I am spoiled. I am selfish. I am judgemental. I am...
You name it and I have probably been called it. Even the Queen B which probably does apply more often than anything else. A few apply, but NONE define. A few don't come close to applying and definitely don't even exist in my world. It doesn't matter. The label was placed. The words were spoken. The harm was caused. The hurt is now cured. The scar on my heart, however, I will forever feel.

I just listened to a lady cry as she was pushed out of her church because she is walking through the storm of her life. She is getting a divorce. How awful, right? I mean how horrible that she isn't just the submissive woman we were all called to be? What is wrong with her? Why doesn't she just shut up and hunker down? God hates divorce.

Oh... wait... I AM DIVORCED. I forgot what I wrote just a few sentences ago.

I don't believe divorce is an option! For some, it becomes necessary.

I don't have to write a list of excuses. Bottom line, from day one I knew it wasn't right and I couldn't let my joy be sucked dry any longer. No fault on anybody except for me. I said yes. I thought I knew what I was doing. I made the mistake. Then I wanted out. I regret none of it. I learned a lot. I am thankful all parties have moved on. I love my ex on some level and I always will want the best, but the bottom line is it wasn't for me. A lot of damage was done along the way. It created a lot more labels.

Our whole world is designed around labeling people. You go to get a new license and they want to know if you are married, single, divorced, or separated. You fill out a passport application and they ask for your race.

What does it really matter?

Labeling is so extreme that my four year old son was afraid to come home and tell us about a new friend because of their color of skin. "Jayden, did you think I would be mad because they were darker?"  "Not you mom, but Rolando's dad doesn't let them play together so I thought daddy would be mad too." For centuries people have been labeled because of their race or their religion.

Why are we afraid of something that looks, feels, or sounds a little different?   Jesus sat and laughed and enjoyed life amongst the oddballs, the uglies, the fatties, and even the town ho.

What is our problem?

A recent hire failed to show up to work. When I called to find out why I was told that her father said no. I asked for more information. "He is a pastor and he knows you are friends with the family that owns __________", a local restaurant. Really??

We are so blinded by these labels that we let it decide our life path on a daily basis. At what point do you stop it? At what point do we decide to love and support the people around us regardless? Not because it is easy, but because it is what we are told to do.

He didn't come for the safe and healthy people. He came for the sick and needy. He is a healer of all areas. Not just referring to diseases. He overlooks the imperfections and sees something better down within. He took the time to notice and care everything about you and me, but not them? Could that possibly be true?

It hurts when I look at the damage the church has created. "I didn't think you would like me or talk to me. Why do you listen so much?"  I can't help, but ask why I wouldn't? It is part of the commandment. He didn't send us out to judge and persecute people into righteousness. He sent us to exemplify His love and in turn winning them into the Kingdom. "I am here to help. Judging isn't going to help you, but I can love you and pray that He does the rest."  That is the only reply I had for a new friend full of questions after being shunned by the "Godly".

I think Honduras needs a church for screw ups because the only places around here with crosses require perfection to gain membership or rosary beads. I really don't know anybody that fits into the category labeled perfect, but I can show you some buildings that seem to think they are full of them. The weak, the hurting, the hungry are all around, but they aren't inside the walls they need the most.

Do something different to love them and change them. It starts with you and me. Because I am ________, but it doesn't matter. It was all erased because I am His!!!

What is Special. What is Need.

I stared out the window as my heart fell into pieces. I frantically began searching the car for food, water, and anything that I thought could fulfill a need. As my endearing husband passed me water that he took from my sister,  "Go do your thing Mother Theresa" were the only words he had to say.

He was maybe 18. It was obvious he had a case of Down's Syndrome. He was squatting beside the cart  outside of a gas station on one of the most trafficked boulevards in Honduras. I watched through the blur of my tears as he scooped water up from the mud puddle trying to get water into his little jug. As I walked over I called out to him. No response. I stood beside him speaking to him and still, no response. Finally, I squatted down and held out the water bottle. He took it. He said nothing. He responded to nothing. I realized he wasn't only mute, but deaf too.

I returned to the car and asked for some shoes. There were none. I walked to the trunk and pulled out a pair of mine, girly or not at least he has something for his feet. As I neared him this time he saw my shadow coming and stood up. I reached out with shoes and told them they were his. He went to the other side of his wood cart and leaned on it as he began to squeeze water from his jeans and clean off his feet.

We were leaving. I wanted to stay and observe a while, but we didn't have the time. As we drove away I watched as he sat up in the cart struggling to put on his new shoes. My heart ached. Where is his family? Where is his help? A child with Down's can grow into a functioning adult. This boy still needed a guardian and someone to teach him and allow him to blossom.

Later the next day as night fell upon the city we drove by the same gas station. He was there. Laying in his cart. Another piece of my heart fell.

For years we have had hearts to open a home for special needs children. People believe it isn't needed here. This country doesn't know what a special needs child is, means, or needs. I have a friend that moved back to Honduras from Arizona that worked with these kids. It was her major. Here she is just considered a nurse. Her heart is for more, but she is stuck living in a community of people that just don't get it.

I get it. I want to help too. We lack the funding. We lack the location. We lack the support.

There is a need. It is a special need. It requires a special heart of a special person to reach out and meet it.

Are you the one? Do you know someone that is? Please help us continue to reach lives. They all matter!

Open Door Ministries