Can I have your order?

I only had three hours left. It would take me three more hours and I would be home. The last few days had been tense. I was missing a lot of work that really needed to be getting done. And I was almost back to normal. Well, my normal.

A couple days ago I lost something of value. I am obviously not caught up in having stuff. That is made apparent by the country I choose to live in. If I can give up showers and electricity then I can give up everything, right? Sort of.  I still have a couple really nice things, mostly jewelry. One of them happened to be a watch. It was white gold. It had diamonds around the face. I wear it every day and have worn it every day for YEARS. It goes with everything. I actually had a pin replaced in the band back in June. Well, it happened. Some how… Some where… I remember checking the time. I picked some stuff up. Plopped the stuff down. Five minutes later… I feel naked. I went to check for the time and it was gone. I was upset, shocked, annoyed, and mad. I felt like someone had taken something from me. It is hard to explain, but like it had been ripped away from me. I could never replace something that expensive with the current life I live which is simplistic to say the least. I went back inside… Searched high and low. I went outside. NOTHING. I wish I could tell you that this story ends with me getting home and finding it. It doesn’t. It is really gone. I almost cried.  Till I remembered it was something that really didn’t matter because it is really insignificant in the grand scheme of things, but it does still sting. I don't lose anything except for my phone and car keys. This was so random.

I made one last attempt and re-traced my steps throughout the day. I even went back to talk to a manager at one of the establishments. I left my number asking for her to call if anything was found. She happily agreed and said, “Was it like a Michael Kohrs or something?” I chuckled, “Not really, it would be a Kohrs on steroids. If it is found and you pick it up, you will know it is mine. It is unique and nothing close to a category that would be sold here.”

I left not being able to track time. “Okay God, if it is gone I am okay with that. Your restoration is better than anything else.”

Now…  A couple days later. I am here. Lost, with no sense of time. Judging by the sun. I put another watch on. It immediately started to make me itch. I left it on thinking I would get used to it. My wrist starts to blister. Okay… Off it goes. I am living in the no time zone.

Yesterday, started really early for me.  I was going on tens hours of crazy and still had three to go. I am buying a bottle of water. Hit the bathroom. Head for the door.  I walked out beaming with the confidence of knowing where I am going and what I am doing. I unlock the car, slide in behind the wheel, turn the key… NOTHING!!! Not a click, not a ding. “God? Are you really looking out for me? I am all alone here. It would be really nice to have some assistance.” I see some people in the parking lot and ask for help. No… One lady is afraid I am going to attack her. Another has some place to be. It is hot. I must be looking quite crazy and gang like. I go back and sit. “God, if I am supposed to be here for something you really need to show me what it is. I am tired and want to go home!”

I see an older couple getting into a van. I ask for help. The man smiles and says, “that is what I am here for.”  They come and jump the car. I am so grateful and explain how the other people had said no to my plea for assistance. They leave. I drive off. Not two minutes out and they are pulled over on the side of the road. My heart beats faster. “Lord? Please tell me that wasn’t a set up! Please tell me what to do. You order my steps!” I was aware of the sunset behind me. I didn’t want to drive in the dark by myself, but I was grateful I didn’t have kids. I take a big sigh and I pull over. “Do you need some help?” He looked up and smiled. To be honest I wasn’t sure if it was the smile of the wicked witch saying now I am going to get you my pretty or if it was a genuine smile. Unfortunately you just never know what you are going to get here in Honduras. This is the country where your own employees order assasins to take you out. I must have shown my nerves because he said, “Go on, its getting late, we will be fine.” I drive down a few blocks.

“Lord, they helped me when nobody else would. You have to protect me because the least I can do is help them.” I turn around, I park behind the van. I hear someone praying as I walk past the windows. “Do you know much about cars? Is it something you can fix?”  He is holding the cable to the accelerator. He can’t get the van to start. “I have no tools, and I know nothing, but if you need a ride some place, need a phone, or maybe even if I just sit here so you aren’t all alone. I will do whatever you need. You helped me, now let me help you.”  The lady a little older than me walks over to me, “I prayed that He would send us an angel, He sent us you.”  Feeling a little relieved at this point that I wasn’t going to be shoved into the van or tied up and thrown to the side of the road like so many others I gave her a smile. “He has His angels around us, and He orders our steps, but we have to listen. Today, I just finally decided to set my agenda aside and to listen.”

Long story short, I ended up towing them to a mechanic. I don’t know how I found a mechanic, but I did. He ordered my steps and lead me down the path. We said our goodbyes and I was now leaving when I should have been arriving.  It was okay… I couldn’t really keep track of the time anyways, right? Had my watch been on… I never would have helped. When I am in public I tend to hide my phone so it doesn’t draw extra attention so I wasn't checking the hour. God knew. Had I been with my kids, I never would have risked helping. God knew.

I can’t say what could have happened. I don’t know what He protected both vehicles from, but I am sure it was something. He has His reasons. Both vehicle issues were simple fixes. Literally, just a matter of having the right tool on hand. To be honest, I get so caught up in the time or the loss of time and where it is I need to be or what it is that I need to be doing. Many times I miss all of the little miracles that are around me.

So I have a new challenge. Not just for me, but I am sure it applies to you too. “God, can I have your order?” I don’t always want it, but I know it is best.  “Father, lead me, guide me, direct me, You order my steps today and every day. Keep me from distractions and frustrations of the loss of time. Remind me that You are the Lord of all. And the Lord of all is either Lord of EVERYTHING or Lord of nothing. Today, I give you EVERYTHING!”  Everything! Even my silly little watch, the time keeper. He is the real time keeper anyways. AND I know that in one second everything can change so the reality is that watching the minutes pass by really accomplishes nothing.

Giving everything to His order… Submitting entirely to His plan. That is risky business. It is easy to say it. Easy to start to do it. It is so hard to follow through. We can do this! His plans. His will. Take His order. Follow His lead. We can do this together!

No Judgement, Just help

What is that smell? The wind blows and with it is more than the normal garbage particles wafting in the wind. Today... Its more bitter. I have smelled it before, but can't place my finger on it.

Another casualty of no education, poverty, and abuse. Another baby was left rotting in garbage. This is now normal. It used to bring me to tears. Now... I just wonder when it will stop and how. Who is going to step up and intervene.

There are hundreds of people around the world that want to adopt... And others due to severe circumstances... They throw their babies away.

This is the sixth baby I have been told about this month.
I can't imagine how many more are being missed.

If you had been gang raped would you want it?

If you had been the girl in the cage that was sold out to the higher bidder and got pregnant because of it... Would you want it?

If you, had been the child kidnapped as you walked home from grinding the corn to make the tortillas.

If you had been daddy's little princess, but the game was taken just a bit too far.

What if it was you that was leaving your high school prom and the head of the neighborhood game caught a glimpse of your beauty and decided to take you home and leave you cuffed until you no longer serve a purpose.

Would you want it? In the midst of the violence and when your spirit has been stripped from you are you going to desire the special gift that the lady in church calls a blessing from God? Or would it be like the torture package sent to you from the depths of Hell?

Who is going to help? When? How?

They don't need someone to judge them. They need someone to intervene and help.

Free Sex...

Not for you. Don't get excited. Got you to come to the page, didn't I?

This week I was reading news articles with highlights from Honduras. One of the articles was addressing the massage houses that are overwhelming our cities and towns. The police have finally decided to start combatting this homes that are known for providing happy endings. You thought that was just happening in the Orient? Don't be so naive.

The recent raid included children between ages of 6 and 12. Free sex. You give it away. A normal prostitute has a price that they receive though they more than likely pay a fee to their boss man. In this home the kids receive what? The moms sell their children into these homes. The kids in return are housed. Kept alive. They have food and a roof. Oh and abuse. You do that the way they want it OR ELSE...  Free sex... Actually they are paying a high price to give it away.

If that is what is taught to these kids. And we are in the business of trying to help heal their innocent bodies and minds... HOW??? HOW will they ever be able to function as a normal child? They will never be able to play with Barbies or G.I.Joes in a normal fashion again. What they were made to do that they fought to not participate in becomes something like a drug that they begin to crave. Is there any hope for normalcy in their lives again?

All of the psychological help in the world cannot erase the things they experienced and suffered through. Some of the stories have me... Me... The girl that is numb to it all because it is all normal... It just took it to another level and has me speechless. The things these children are experiencing at such a young age is heart breaking. I pray for the home that receives these kids. They are going to have a lot of work ahead of them. The rage they will experience. The depression and depths of sorrow to overcome.

That brings me to another point. When will the death penalty be permitted in this country so infiltrated with murder and violence!!!??

I want revenge. I want that little girl. I want to hold her and brush her hair and teach her that there is more to life. I want to prove that not everyone is going to wish that lifestyle upon her. She needs someone to come in with love. Someone to teach her there is a different life. Someone to love her through all her nasties that she will now be trying on kids in school. Starting school will be a huge difference for her.

She has value! She is worth something more than just her body and the pleasure someone can get from her.

In these thoughts I have recognized that these same things are values I am trying to teach to my own daughter. In a world where you are recognized for your beauty, your body, or your moves... It is in almost every commercial on TV. It is re-enforced by music videos. We even re-enforce it in our own homes. When is the last time that you told your little girl she was beautiful when she woke up in the morning? Does she only hear those words when she is dressed up? What do you say about yourself in front of her? I am one of the worst at saying "I look gross!" or "Don't touch me, I smell." One thing I have learned from stinky indians is they all seem to have lovers. The stench released from beneath the pits is of no importance. That is so contrary to our culture. I think pheromones attracting the opposite sex is a line of bologna. There is no way that smell would ever cause me to desire a man.

Enough of a rant for today. Go love somebody just because of who they are. Not because of how they look or how they make you feel. Love them because it was a command. Loving the least of these isn't something that is always easy. Heck, I don't even know if I love my own kids when I find a bag of flour has exploded all over my kitchen floor or have that red juice spilled all over my nice clean white pants. It is definitely a choice. No matter who it is, how they smell, or what they do.

I choose to love you! I choose to love her too! Sex not needed. All kids are worth loving.

RAW

Raw. I don't know how to describe everything I am feeling. So let me say right now, this is raw. This is real. This is what I am feeling.

Don't be offended by anything you will read.

Raw.  Think of raw meat. Cold. Nasty. Bloody. It is the real deal before all the seasoning and cooking to make it a wonderful masterpiece. Just know... That is what you are getting ready to read.

I am struggling with complete surrender. I can give it all up. I can trust. I can believe. I have more faith the anybody that is sitting next to me. And for some reason... right now... I just don't know what is going on. I am not sure where we are. Where we are going. What we are doing.

Verification: I know that I am surround by a hundred kids and I am dedicated to making sure they succeed at life. And that is about all that I know.

Are you dedicated to them? Are you dedicated to me? Is this blog going to scare you away? Maybe. The sad thing is I am writing because I need back up and I am at the end of my rope. So can you maybe for a day overlook my cruel or offensive writing and try to see my real heart.

I am tired. I am scared. I am exhausted. I am feeling as abandoned as every child in our home and that is just where it all is. I know God is there. I know that He cares more than you or I, but in the midst of my current reality His timing and His caring seems really off. (I don't need you to write me a mini sermon explaining why this comment is insane, I already know.) Sometimes... it just doesn't feel like it. And that is going to have to be okay.

I have abused children experimenting with abusing others. I have rape victims with the desire for more of their past so they are escaping at night with men from the military. I have a monthly budget that is dwindling each month in a ministry that just keeps expanding as our children and monthly commitments continue to grow to support them on their journey. I have uneducated staff that when given time and materials to grow don't care to apply it or use it, they continuously ignore the help offered and just look for a paycheck. I have teams that hear needs of the kids and projects, but then just return home and kind of forget about us as the return to their luxuries. I have volunteers that are eager to help and assist, but don't speak the language and having to be a translator is exhausting when heaped on top of the responsibility pile. I have teachers with credential, but lack the passion and have us working overtime in the homes to try and keep the kids on track without having actually been taught. And I am surrounded by a community that is perverted and dangerous and at the end of the day looks for how they can benefit from us instead of trying to help or assist. I have human fecal matter being thrown over the wall onto the home and kids because a village is mad I won't give the front of our property to them for a family to live on. And I have to stare at a half naked woman crying on the corner of the road while watching the police laugh at her and fear stopping to help because of retaliation when I desperately want to just sweep her off her feet and take her home.

So where is God in all of this?

I know. He is right here. I know. He is still saying 'TRUST ME!" I don't doubt that part for a second. It is still a very lonely place to be standing in right now. As the rain pours down, my tears follow.

I hear Him. But do you know the fear that would surround you in the midst of the howling winds while standing in a tornado... That gripping, stifling, hopeless feeling... Fear.  I hear Him so loudly saying "Trust me." But the fear of what I am seeing has me almost paralyzed.

I am trusting. I am believing. I can't see how or when. All I see is darkness. I hear the truth, but I am in need of some serious back up.

The end of school is coming and with it is a lot of extra expenses. That is November. Right behind it comes December.

We are in need of some serious financial commitments. Our next home is very close to being able to open down stairs, but I can't even attempt to accept kids or open until I get some monthly supporters to cover what we already have going. I need a couple staff members just to cover employees during their time off. Full time care of these children is a heavy burden and it is extremely exhausting. Yet, I can't hire anybody else right now.  I need a math and English teacher for our school, but need an extra $600 a month before they will consider working for us because bi-lingual teachers are worth more money. I have a list of improvements that we would really like to see completed in the near future. I am looking at $1,800 in car repairs just for this month. Yesterday, I had to spend 8,300 Lempiras in repairs for one of the homes. I had another refrigerator blow out this month and have called the repair man twice a day for three weeks because it is supposed to be under warranty and it looks like he is waiting for the warranty to expire before he helps.

When I said raw... I was honest. This is the raw look at the behind the scenes stress that I am feeling. I need help. I need Spiritual back up. I need some serious prayer. I need financial assistance. I know that everybody goes through their own personal battles. I know that many of you are dealing with back the school costs and are already stretched to the max. But if every person that read this sent $10, it would really help ease the burden. I am making our needs known and praying for blessings. I am trusting and believing for miracles.

I know that God has brought these children here for a reason. I know that He has a greater purpose

than I could ever imagine. This past week as I stared at Olivia (Lil' Bit), I remember making a promise to her just over a year ago. When I brought her home I promised to give my all and that I would never abandon her. I made a commitment to watch her grow wherever she goes. With every child that has come in I have made that same commitment. No matter how bad it looks. No matter how much rice and beans we have to eat. I will never give up.

When you read in Hebrews, "I will never leave you nor forsake you" it is telling us not to be anxious. Our commitments to God will be rewarded. I made a commitment to God a long time ago to do what I am doing. I don't have to worry. Out of that commitment, I made a pact to forever do everything within my hands for these kids. I don't have to worry.

You know, further in the same chapter of Hebrews it is promised that He will equip (in Greek it states fully provide) and to bear with it. (Bear = Patience).

So I made our needs known. Now I just have to wait.

What are you stressing over? What are you anxious to see happen? Be patient. When it lines up with His plan all you have to do is wait. His timing doesn't ever seem right when we are in the midst of the stress. Actually, His timing seems awful. It gives me wrinkles and silver streaks on my head. The beauty of it all is His timing is always perfect and always leaves me awestruck. For those that can help in some way you can head over to Open Door Ministries (click to donate).  For those that need the same prayer of patience and are waiting for God to perform, lets pray together! There is power in numbers.

Battles With The Past

My silence should not fool you. If you only knew half of what was going on you would be exhausted.  Thinking about it gives me a migraine and reminds me how much I hate what I do at the end of SO many days. This bitter sweet relationship with these kids and the passion that burns frequently has me sick by days end.

This week I had to face a bitter reality from my past. I had a set of kids that came to live with us with their mom when they were younger. They continued to be abused while under our care to the extent that one day I filed papers with an attorney, took the kids to the forensic department at the municipality, removed them from their mom and kicked her off property. This was one of the hardest things I have ever faced. A girl. A lonely girl. Who just yearned to be loved and accepted and needed an education. I knew exactly what she needed. I just couldn't provide it and allow the cycle of abuse to continue.

Fast forward a year later and I receive a document that a judge is ordering the mom to take custody of the kids.

The judge happened to be a local acquaintance that I had a previous history with. Obviously I wasn't going to accept a document. I went to her and asked why. "My term is ending I have to close out all of my files. We don't have the staff to investigate. She comes in crying every week. I just need to close it all out. I am moving to a new city." SERIOUSLY!?! You need to remove a stack of papers so you don't even look at the history of abuse???  The history of pictures??? The reports on the refusal of psychological help??? The fact that she has no home, no job, and can't feed herself??? My heart

crumbled. I couldn't deliver the kids. (This is normal. I always send a staff member so I don't have to cry in public. I grieve for a few days in private and pop back.) I felt helpless when it was done and over. This was just the first time I would face a situation like this. It turns out that there have been many days that I come home wondering if it is worth my energy to try and protect these kids when in the end a judge can say they are going to live some place else. No investigation. No questions asked. Just a signature on the paper without asking for the file folder with the history that the document will soon be placed inside of.  I wish there was an office to report the awful and horrible work that this countries government officials, but the truth is that even in the upper ranks finding a person that actually cares is not common. They can be found, but the positions of power are always held by some political puppet.

Hence the reason I want to be the First Lady of Honduras! I will re-marry if it gets me the position. Just Kidding!!! Or am I? I secretly pray that a single man is voted into office and I can snag the position I desire and take Nilsson along as the pink house mascot. (We don't have a White House. We have a big pink building. Think rose petal pink, Not pep-bismol Mom!)

This week a couple new faces showed up at our feeding station. It has been a few years since I have seen them, but very little has changed. I think even their height is the same. Which is sad. My heart is over joyed to have them back in our lives even on a small level. I am so grateful that we have the feeding station to be able to help them out and even keep track of them while they are around. I can't believe that after so much time has passed they can still be picked out of a crowd. (They all typically look alike!) AND you know the best part? They have on clothes and shoes!!! Yay God! I say all of that to say this... Never stop praying for my kids. The current ones. The lost runaways. The few that have been sent away. My heart has a place for every one of them. I still lose sleep praying for my Fabiola's and Esther's. I keep in touch with the few that I can, but for those that I have lost... I just pray. The most strategic thing you can do for this ministry aside from financial support for the projects is prayer! And from this little heart of mine, there is nothing better than seeing one of the babies that I thought I had lost forever. My tears, for now, are from an overwhelming joy!!

Welcome Back Home Sweet Peas!!!! You have been missed!

Are you there mom?

Mothers Day brings a mix of emotions depending on who you are and where you are at on your life journey.

Mothers Day... It is like most other holidays for me. Stressful.

It is a time when most of my kids get emotional. When I get emotional. When I try and over do another project to make sure my house moms feel extra special on a day they don't get to share with their family because I need them to work. A day of resentment. Frustration. Angst. Sorrow.

A day in the life of one of my kids doesn't begin to open your eyes to everything they go through.

A life of abuse, but when all you know is abuse it is what you want. And on mothers day just like a healthy child you want to be with your maternal mom.

I had planned a beautiful lunch. I made every detail special and coordinated it all to go perfectly down to the games we would play as a family. Part of the day was only for my house moms. Part of the day for my teen moms. Part of the day for a big family celebration.

As one of my moms walked in I noticed something was different. I was so focussed on the details of the day that I never took the time to ask. Then during a time that I had set apart to ask my moms how they were and what they needed from me so they could be more efficient, she broke down. "I didn't call you because I knew you were busy. She ran away. She hugged us. She gave me my mothers day card. She disappeared." I was informed that one of my little girls ran away. She is eight. She is used to the streets. She is used to abuse. My reply? "Don't worry. She will be back. I am sure she wants to find her real mom for mothers day. Just wait."

Yesterday... They brought her home. Within four days she was beaten and bruised. Her hair has been chopped off. The joy we had seen dancing in her eyes has been stripped once again. I ache wondering what she experienced the last few days. With time, she will talk. For now, I wonder.

I wonder why she chose that life style to run back to. I know it is a cycle of abuse. I know she will desire parts of her past life until she is fully healed. I wish we hadn't taken three steps backwards after just starting to move forward. I believe God will heal her with time.

The part that hurts me the most is knowing she left see if a mom was still there. A mom who would hug her the way her tia hugs her in our homes. She left hoping mom would sit and listen. She left wanting a love that is best shown by a mom, but she doesn't realize her mom is sick and will never be able to provide that love. Unless... Unless she receives it first from God.

I am learning more each day how much God existence is like a light house and He guides us and lights the path, but we have to set our own course. These kids know the way. We are being used as a light house, but I cannot force any of them to follow the path before them. I can pray. I can wish. I can desire. I can lead. Even at eight years old... they have to decide.

They decide. In the midst of confusion. During the blurs of abuse. The stress of change. They decide.

I am just now coming to reality and recognizing they will forever wonder, "are you there mom?"

"These people tell me of a love so deep. A love so strong. And it comes through people I barely even know. If that is true then why? Why don't you love me the way they love me? Why don't you show me? Why do you hurt me? How can they be there for me even when you are not?"

In the midst of Mothers Day runaways and chaos I found a moment to chat with one of our oldest girls. She came when she was 16. She will be 26 this year. She is working for us and still studying in high school. I asked her how she felt when she came into the house that she one time lived in. Her reply left me kind of surprised. "Mama Lore, how do you feel when you go home to the States and walk in and see Mama Penny? I think I feel like that, but better. I knew how bad it once was and I know how good I feel here. This is my home. I find peace and happiness here." She once tried to run away. She thought about ways to escape. She learned, with time, where God placed family, hope, and a future. She took advantage of it.

I hope that all of our kids eventually follow in her foot steps. I know we will lose some along the way. For now we make sure that seeds are being planted and one day they will recognize a place they could call home and where they found a love like no other. And when they ask, "Are you there?" A response will surely be heard.

Something New!

Today I woke up at 4 am. I couldn't sleep. I don't know if it was nerves or excitement.

Today, is a new day! Today I get to pick up our first Mission Nanny! I have had Nanny McPhee here for short spurts of time, but the problem is she thinks I don't need her and she leaves. Nanny McPhee is irreplaceable to me. She keeps me sane. She is family. She is perfect with the kids. She helps keep me organized. She helps me on the computer. She shares her wisdom and reminds me where to find my peace each day. BUT... Nanny McPhee thought she was better used in other areas so for a long time I have been waiting and searching for a mission nanny!

Over the last year we had several responses, but the dates didn't work. Or something always affected the final decision and Honduras ended up not being on their list. TILL NOW!!!!!!!! Today I get to pick up our own interim nanny. She will be here until she starts school again. We are elated! I am so excited that my kids will have to endure their last eight hours in a car waiting for mom to complete all of her jobs. I am excited that maybe I can sit with a staff member for the first time and not have one of my own kids on my lap. I am excited that bringing home the extra babies will be a shared burden. I am excited that when I can't pick up Jayden from school and he sits waiting for me for three hours that someone else can go get him. OR that I can leave him behind and not make him miss class so I can try and get my projects finished. I am super excited that for the first time maybe someone else can see that my kids haven't had lunch before it is 3:30 in the afternoon.

Please pray that she can deal with the heat, lack of water, and power outages that frequent our lives. Pray that she is patient with me and can read between the lines when I stop talking mid sentence to run off and handle something else. Pray that she can deal with my crazy family and our wild stylings. Pray that she stays healthy while she is here. Pray for her blessings to be a torrential down pour as a reward for her sacrifice. Pray for me to be sensitive to her and her needs while she is here and not to abuse her.

Maybe we can actually have a date night!?!

Random Thoughts

Have you ever noticed how negativity tends to be more attractive than positivity?

1. The bad kids get more attention. (Yes, because he needs more correction. Just get my point, k?)

2. The sex title gets more reads.

3. The ass blog gets the most feedback. (Forget the 100 before it full of love, hope, thanks, grace.)

4. Target gets the most comments in your newsfeed.


Why can't people be supportive in the good? Why is it so hard for us to join good causes, but so easy to comment when something makes us angry?

Why is it so easy to criticize loved ones and so hard to be a genuine encouragement?

I know I am not the only one that thinks these things. It is human nature. It is easier to cut someone down in frustration and not build them up.

Why is it so hard to get people to push a good cause forward, but so easy for the negative news to spread like wild fire.

Half-Assed

For those of you that know me well,  you can hear me singing "Dominick the Donkey!" HEE HAW! If you don't know that song, you really need to look it up:  Dominick the Donkey

I said it. I never was allowed to say these things when I grew up. There were two phrases that my grandma used, but we could not whisper them.  First there was the smart ass.  And that smart ass probably got in trouble for doing something half-assed (the other word I dare not whisper.) I never understood what those phrases had to do with anything. I didn't really think about it until I used that word today. So silly me… I went to wiki-pedia.  I didn’t want to just assume. Assuming leads me to the same common denominator.  So, I looked up smart-ass. To my surprise I was informed that a donkey is a donkey. A smart donkey. A dumb donkey. It is all just a donkey. 

This is Wikipedias Smart-Ass, I couldn't find a half.

Then you have the half-assed. I have to admit. I typed it into google. I just wanted to know. Wikipedia was no help to me when I tried to look up the half-assed definition.  So here is what I found:

half-assed; half-arsed adjective 1 inferior, unsatisfactory, incompetent US, 1865. 2 incomplete, not serious, half-hearted US, 1933 -        A SPECIAL thank you to the New Partridge Dictionary of Slang.

Did you know that this phrase appears in a general court martial dating back to 1863? I didn’t either. Now we can be smarter together! 

There is really a game guys!
I think I may need to find it!

So here is the deal. How are you living? Are you full-heartedly committed to doing things in life? Or are you just half-assing it? (Side Note: I would really like to use a term whole-assed too, but it just doesn’t sound right!)

At work? At home? On the mission field?

Sometimes, what a person means to be as help, isn’t really helping me. Can you relate?

I really needed to get some work done. So Mr. Wonderful stayed home to help with the kids. However, staying home  meant asking me to back up his phone. Making food because someone was hungry. Him taking the kids outside to play and after two minutes calling me to come get the baby. After five minutes calling for me because Jayden was thirsty. Twenty minutes later finding that the baby I had recently walked inside had a diaper that was soaked with water and exploded all over the floor that I got up early to clean. Help? Did you say help? It would be easier for me to lock them in their rooms so they can play and so I can focus! But… He tried to help! I recognize the effort orrrr lack there of. His help was not the kind of help that I was desperately seeking in the moment.

At work? What did you only spend half the time doing because you were too busy on Facebook? Everyday I have staff members that I have literally been requesting things from since October not hand in the completed project, but by golly there are ten new posts on Facebook and a hundred new pictures being sent to all of the gringos that come to visit. Where are the reports? Why were the forms not filled out properly for the government? Why did you not make that meeting? Did you forget you were supposed to be working?  Why didn't the guys have the materials on time so they could work? And that leads me to this... How did you let your company down today? Are you reading this when you should be working? Please, don't let me be your distraction. My tangents can wait until your break.

This happens on the mission field. If you want to know the honest truth, ask the missionary that you support to tell you.  We all talk about it when you all go home. Short term groups are known for coming in, blowing up, and taking off. Are they beneficial? YES! Do we love to host them? YES!!! But do they many times create more work and cause more damage? YES!!!!!!! Could they improve their actions and accomplish more thus providing more support to the missionary? YES!!!!!!!!!!! Just ask us how!

Short termers come in and throw around money to staff and/or the people receiving the ministry causing the people supported by the ministry to get delusional thinking every American has the money and I should be paying them more and they immediately forget every blessing received by the ministry up until this point. The new car. The $1,500 for the surgery. The old car repairs. The no living expenses all free living plus an income. Yea... All of that! It gets forgotten. Like it never happened.

Teams are known for bringing down limited budgets to work with and maybe not being able to have the funding or time to complete a task, but they attempt it anyway. Leaving messes for the people on the ground to clean up. Starting projects with outsiders that then look to the on the ground people to follow through when maybe we had no clue there was even a contract.  Or sending and supporting a family that is in need, but privately we (the on the grounders) know the true need is because of their own foolish ways of not picking up the fishing pole to fish so we (the on the grounders) have moved our resources to an area that is known to have more fertile soil. This isn't to be mean. Missionaries are not picky or selfish people. We are the ones that really will go hungry to make sure the needy are fed. We see the real need behind the smoke screens that the homeless kid on the corner begging is showing you. (His mom is sitting there behind him in the parking lot or maybe that little boy just ran away from another orphanage and is begging just so he can feed his drug addiction.) 

Sometimes, I think it is because as humans we don’t have respect for what is going on behind the scenes. Sometimes… It is because deep deep down we don’t truly consider anybody else, but ourselves.  Did you give because you have a heart that is desiring to meet the need or was it to make yourself feel good and ease your conscience? Not that both are not desired.  We need both types of givers. 

Do you know how much a ministry, any ministry would thrive if more than 20% of the givers actually cared about the true needs and tried to meet them? Have you asked your pastor what your church NEEDS and rallied behind him to help accomplish it? I am mean really hear the desires in your core and ask to better understand so you can be a bigger part and meet the larger need! Not the silly, quick, easy, superficial so I can pat myself on the back for helping need. I mean the one that aches you to finish and that is a real sacrifice for you to make because just like you there are a thousand others that kind of want to help if they don't have to sweat or bleed. How would your own church grow if more than 20% of the congregation started to give back with their time and resources? How would your business and workplace blossom if more than 20% of the staff gave 100% of an effort every day?  This is a hard thing to ask, but how would your own family be affected if when you came home at the end of a long day and actually connected with them for more than just fifteen minutes before bed? And what about a day of no tv? WAIT!!! That means no news!

What if every church member cared as much for the church as the head pastor? What if every employee cared as much about the business and its customers as the business owner? And what if every member of the family cared as much about how clean the house stays as the one that cleaned it?

It is hard for me to turn off my phone and email.  Guess what I do when I can’t sleep? Guess what I do when I am stressed and want to disconnect? What is right beside me as I make dinner?  Technology has ruined us in many ways. There are great benefits to being able to live around the world and in seconds receive a picture of a loved one or even video chat. There are also great threats to our success as a human race; as a parent, a spouse, a minister, an employee, or boss. 

I know this isn't for everybody. Many of you are way better than me. And I recognize that many of you are putting in way more effort than I will ever see. You are not the majority!

Bottom Line: I don't want to give a kid with a desire to be a butcher a spoon. I want to find him a sharp knife so he can get started and begin to practice. I don't want to give an aspiring chef an additional plastic bowl to boil soup in... The plastic bowl, he already has one. What he needs is a stock pot. Did you ask what he needed? Do you care about meeting the need, or are you just excited to give something away?

I don’t want to be an ass.  I want everything I do to be whole hearted and with excellence! Don't you agree?

Go Ye... Donde?

You remember the feeling you felt as you walked down the hall in high school for the first time? The way your hands and knees trembled. The feeling that ached in the pit of your stomach as you were called up front for something by the homeroom teacher. Of the uncomfortable and awkward stress that engulfed every inch of your being as you sat in the huge lunch room. For those that went to a small school, maybe it wasn't like that. It was easy for me to be a big fish in my small private school. The year I went from a school of 200 to 2,000, something changed. I became insecure. What is funny about that is the way that every single one of those 2,000 kids had those moments, but rarely was it spoken about.

As as adult... Maybe because of random experiences, I developed more of an I don't really care mentality. (Most of the time that is.) If you want to try and make me care then I find myself pushing myself away from you.

Explanation:

If you are a valued member of my life then I respect your thoughts and opinions. I will share information with you. If you are not one of these members and try to force your opinion on me I become cold or just neglect to value what I hear. There is nothing wrong with this. I ask for advice from those I respect. I do not give respect nor do I value advice from those who have not earned it.

That is normal.

Respect is earned. Respect is to be valued. Respect is not demanded or commanded. It takes playing a part in the lives of the people around you.

This is so true in leadership. A true leader will fight with you. A true leader pauses to see what the hold up is on their teams and evaluating resolutions and working through to the finish line together. Osea (Like), Leading by example.

I am often dumbfounded by the way visitors tend to give opinions and thoughts on missions never having lived on the mission field, or lived in Honduras, or worked with abused children. I sometimes start to feel the high school intimidation consuming my body, then I quickly remind myself that I am starting to act like a child again and push myself beyond that moment. The problem really isn't me here. How do I know this? Because the criticism would be followed up by assistance to accomplish the correction if the criticism actually came from a person of value (in the instance a leader). And a true leader or person of value would not try to make you feel nor desire for you to feel the awkward intimidation.

Everyone has felt that intimidation. All of us have experienced the awkward feeling of not measuring up and not having value. From the Class Clown to Mr. Popularity. The difference is how we react. Do we embrace reality and press in so we can move forward? Or do we give up and back away?

I am trying to teach my son to be a little like Simba and "laugh at the face of danger." In other words push through uncomfortable moments and recognize value in the people around him. This is hard. So much of the confidence he will one day have comes with time. It comes with maturity. There is part of him that recognizes when he is acting shy. He is learning. He now reports when he is feeling this way. Teaching him to press in, pass it to the side, and do what it is he came to do is complicated. Little by little, we can get there.

Telling him these things is great. It doesn't mean much though. Living by example, well...
The other day I had to run for a meeting. I tried on several outfits. I fixed my hair and face four times. (I didn't look any better than before I started.) Jayden asked me why I was being silly. I recognized that I had regressed all the way back to my childhood. I had to be honest. "Jayden, I think I am just uncomfortable because I know they will be pretty. They will be professional. They will be prepared." I was coming from cleaning up baby poop and dealing with high school problems because one of our kids isn't doing very well in math. I didn't feel like I could put on a different hat to go meet with an attorney in the moment. The funny thing is that the attorney was asking to meet me because they needed help with a case. It had nothing to do with something on my end it was them seeking something from me. Isn't it funny how quickly we get consumed and start to feel inferior?

I am recognizing more and more the importance of not just suggesting... Not just speaking... But actually being the example. It is one thing to have the ideas. It is another to take the time to implement them help change the action.

For every action there is an equal and opposite reaction. (Thank you Mr. Warren! This and your talk about absolute power follow me every where!)

If I want to cause a positive reaction, I have to create and be part of the positive action.

Whether it be in motivating my child to change or motivating staff to move in a different direction.  I can't expect an outcome if I am not willing to be part of the movement. What are you willing to invest to be part of the change? What is it that you don't like and why? How are you going to help change it? Words... they are just words. Change needs action! Action not hesitant because of intimidation.

In the last two years we have been surrounded by some really amazing churches. They may not have all the money in the world to help accomplish and change everything in the moment. BUT they have the hearts. Their people are full of love and compassion. They recognize the imperfection amongst all of us. They see our hearts are trying. Their pastors and staff have offered so much guidance and encouragement. They don't say "Hey! You guys have it all together!" NOPE!!!! They do say, "Keep going. You will get there! Keep growing!" Then they help us grow. One block and bag of cement at a time.  I learn so much about leadership by watching them lead. Watching their honesty. Hearing their stories. It is refreshing.

They have taught me that change needs action and it doesn't happen because you order it to. Unfortunately, Genesis has God resting on the 7th day and never saying that He empowered us to speak new change into being without actually becoming the change. In fact, I think when Jesus came into play it became more of an example than ever of the way we are supposed to be. Read that again. The way we are supposed to "BE." He is our example to follow. He became the change. Touching one life at a time. He didn't save everyone. He did save the few that He could. AND Other than demanding illness to leave and calling down miracles... where is there a story about Him commanding anybody into action? One exception, "GO YE!" He commanded us. Not some of us. He commanded all of us to take part in this change. High school intimidation step aside... Now Just GO! Take action! Be that change!

Scary? Yes, I know. One step in front of the other. Start now. Don't go buy that Starbucks! Stick that $5 aside to make a change some how, some way... You doing it. You sending someone to do it. Or you sending it to someone that is already doing it. You have the power. Start that mission or support that mission.

I, like many others, am running on very little sleep. I have a new born. She isn't mine. Can I be honest? I don't even want her. I am tired of raising kids. I know that nobody else seems to care for babies the way my momma would and it disgusts me so I sacrifice and keep her with me. I could just pay someone to be a nanny, but we don't have enough funding. I just had to turn away five kids last night. I can't take on any more kids. I am out of beds. I have two kids sleeping on the floor. I had to tell five kids between the ages of four and eleven that I could not take them home with me. I left them sleeping in the holding cell at the police station. I am trying to do all that I can to impact the lives of the kids that surround me. I need help. I need funds. I need people!

Are you hearing me? If you are supposed to be here helping... PLEASE COME!!! We need you!

I know that bills are forever showing up in the mail. I know that you probably already give to ten different charities, but if you can spare just and extra $5 a month... please give it! It doesn't have to be to ODM. There are plenty of people that are desperate for your assistance. Give more. Do more. Be a part of the change! Take some action!

GO YE!!

Dirty Little... Slut?

"Don't come home until you can bring me 500 Lempiras!"  I am sure that she was never told to sell herself. I am almost positive that she never wanted to offer her body to make the money. But I know that making that money in one day in this country doesn't happen very often. Unless, you are willing to work the streets! Every day the words, names, actions that surrounded her implied what she was to become. "You dirty little slut! You are worthless! You are good for nothing! I would rather be spliced with chicken wire than have to continue to look at your face! Don't you dare come home without that money."

I know that this week my own family is eating the basic rice and beans because we just haven't had the income. In a country where even with a college degree you are probably only going to make $600 a month. In a country where meat, gas, eggs, and milk are more expensive than where I lived in the States. In a country where the average income is only a few dollars a day. I can kind of "get it", you know? 

What if the label already ran in the family? Why wouldn't an hour of my time, no matter how miserable it was, be okay if it meant I had milk and bread for my kids? There are many that do it for free. Why is she more guilty? Because she received pay? Isn't sin, SIN? Who has the power to rate the degree of sin? When you speed? When you don't wear a seat belt?  Isn't it all breaking the law? How and who gets the priveledge of defining the level of offense? This has been my reply to my staff.

Forgive me now, this will probably be too much for you to handle. 

I have an employee that was/is a prostitute. And I will not fire her because of it. I am not capable.

For two years I have had the desire to work with prostitutes. I have longed to have donors designate funds for me to pay the girls for their time. Take them to dinner. Love on them. Be a friend. And send them home. Why? Because I know most of them are required to perform this way. They know without money in their pocket they will be beat. They know they will be gang raped on their way back home when their performance hasn't pleased El Jefe. They know their family will be hurt. They really don't have many options to escape their inevitable reality. Even if they don't want the red light outside their window the gang will just put it back up again tomorrow.

I believe she started for the same reason. I know that she was forced into some acts by family because of stories she has entrusted to me. I just never knew the depth. I never knew how recent. I never knew... Maybe I should have asked.

She is loyal. She is a hard worker. She is the most dependable worker we have. She is grateful. She is so grateful that she comes to me weekly with hugs and tears full of gratitude for the opportunity. On Easter Sunday she profusely thanked me for changing her life and allowing her to feel loved for the first time.

Frankly, I don't care what she was known for in her past. I know that she can have a future. I don't see her past choices affecting our kids. Actually, I see it helping her encourage them more in their studies and helping her to constantly remind them of their current opportunities. 

This wasn't my idea. I never planned on having a prostitute for hire help us with the ministry. Rahab married into one of the leading families in Israel. I can only imagine the judgement that came upon them. I would bet a million dollars her husband never dreamed he would one day marry the town whore. And the in-laws... I laugh as I think about dinner conversations as he suggests the idea and says "Mom, I'm gonna marry her anyway." What was God thinking as He allowed all of this to happen? Oh, you know, probably about how He could best accomplish His work because she was the willing servant that didn't give a crap about anything other than doing what she believed was right in her heart.

The balls it took for Rahab to betray her people. She was already an outcast. She was viewed as less than. She was probably disowned by her only family because of her lifestyle. She still stuck her neck out on the line for these "men of God". When you read the story and actually pay attention, she acknowledges that these men were sent "By the ONE true God." Imagine that. She chose, I mean the harlot decided, to help accomplish the will of God. Because of her heart to serve she married up! Not a little up... Big up! And check out the genealogy... The blood line that leads up to our Savior.

She is beautiful. She is valuable. She is worthy of second chances. She can bring a piece to the table that we are all missing. Help me love her! It is easy when I feel the need and can relate. It is easy, some of the time. In the midst of the ridicule... It is so hard. (I feel kind of skitzo because in my head it is more like this:  She is beautiful, slut. She is valuable to her pimp daddy. She is worthy of second chances to bring home more dough.) I want to cry as I write these thoughts. Whether flying through my head in a joking manner or not. It isn't fair. Not to her. Not to her family. Not to her kids. She is a treasure. Not because of who she can blow and how much dough she can bring home. She is a treasure because she, like me, is covered in the same blood. Her Savior, is mine. Her daddy, He is mine. He sees His daughter. His beautiful little girl. Worthy of nothing, yet she inherits EVERYTHING. She is the daughter of the same King. Her father, like mine, owns the cattle on a thousand hills. She is adopted into the family, forgiven of everything, crazy history wiped clean... I mean blank slate.                  She is beautiful.                 She is a princess.

So many times my part in the ministry has nothing to do with the kids at all. It is more about the staff. I need an open heart that is always willing to go the extra mile. Even if an entire town will judge you for it. I need the strength and stamina to continue pushing and pulling out staff in the right direction. Helping them heal and leading them to wholeness. I need the understanding so I don't join the rest as fingers are pointed and as judgement is cast down. Wisdom to say the right thing at the right time and that it would help to bring a calm in the midst of chaos. I need... To not care about the ugly truth of the past of any of them, but to continually see them as He does.

I didn't plan to save a prostitute. It just kind of happened. Now I have to not throw in the towel and quit on her like everyone else in her past...
Hey Val! I guess we finally started that side of the ministry. Ready or not. It just kind of happened! Help me!

Just Pray

I have been thinking a lot lately about a list of names that are pretty insignificant to a lot of people. But to me... They mean the world.

It is a long list. It reaches well over 100. It is a list a place my hand over and pray, plead, cry out for the protection and blessing on each one. I pray for their spouses to be. I pray for their kids that will one day come. I pray for their health. I pray for their provision. I pray for their desire to study and for their stamina to help the overcome. I pray for their healing and that there would not be a scar that causes confusion, doubt, or complication, but that the scars they find would catapult them forward.

Today as I analyzed this list... I thought about the Book of Life. There is a list that is very similar. It is a list of all of us that have been adopted into the family. And as I sit here analyzing this all that comes to my mind is if I do this... What does He do? My thoughts, prayers, and hard work don't compare to anything that He would do and/or does do every day. My efforts are petty and ridiculous and as much as I stress to accomplish all that I do He probably sits back and laughs at me on a daily basis. I guess I can be pretty entertaining.

I am sure any of us could be?

I remember my grandma. She was a very worrisome person in her old age. She would give you everything out of her cabinet even if it meant she went hungry. She was known for buying too many things just because they were on sale, but then she gave most of it away. She would make WAY too much food anytime she had family over and she would send it all home. She tithed, faithfully. She probably tithed in advance believing that she would win the lotto. She GAVE. If there was a guest speaker, a missionary, or someone in need... SHE GAVE IT ALL AWAY.  She was a widow. She had little to offer in the physical, but it was all she had and she gave it all. That being said, SHE WORRIED! She would give in faith and worry later. I remember calling her a worry wart. When I was first married I was so young. I was 19. And I had a kitchen with every spice that McCormick ever made. She gave me all of them. I can remember having her over for dinner and trying to make something special,  or even stopping by her place on my way home from work. We would sit and talk and watch the news. (THE NEWS!!! I mean this only caused her to worry more. And I enabled this to happen with being the bad company!) She would then talk about how awful things were and she began to worry. I could tell her not to worry. I did tell her. I would tell her to pray and release it to God. She would still worry. She was the type to check her coffee maker four times after pulling out of her garage just in case it was still on.

When she was younger her house burned to the ground. This happened more than once in her life. I can imagine it left her with a deep scar. A fear of losing every memory and all the physical property that she had to her name. After all, she would rather give it away than have it taken from her.

I don't know that she every stopped worrying. She was so concerned for the well being of her kids and her grand kids. And every day, in spite of the worrying, she kneeled beside her bed and prayed for every single one of us. She even prayed for the employees and clients where she worked.

She taught us all well. In fact, I told her to stop worrying so many times that I think I may have picked up her burden some where along the way. I started to worry about these kids. These projects. These staff members and key players in the kids lives. These families. What was I thinking? Silly me.




If I do this... Imagine what He does and just how much He is capable of doing?



All that is left to do is pray!

Hold On Tight...

It is a simple phrase. “Hold on tight, don’t let go.”  I say this phrase probably a hundred times a week.

“Kai hold on tight. You don’t want to fall off.” As I try and carry the bags and hope that my monkey child doesn’t loose her grip around my neck.

“Careful Jayden. Hold on tight until we get across the water.” As we cross the river that frequents our city streets this time of year. Once it is to my calves I typically decide to carry the kids across.

Driving down the road and the kids are hanging on the running boards of the truck. “Hold on tight Carlos, don’t let go.”

This phrase… I have heard it probably more frequently than I now say it.

As a little girl at the beach afraid the waves would pull me under I remember my dad saying “Hold on tight.”  Or as we speed across the rough waters in his boat I could barely hear him as he yelled, "Hold on tight!"

Parasailing with my little sister as we stared down out our miniature sized looking feet. I can still hear her “Hold on tight Lala, I don’t want to fall.”

And then there are the unspoken “Hold on tights”.  The day my brother passed away trying to remember his smell, his laugh, his smile, and the twinkle of his eyes. I remember thinking “Hold on tight Lauren, don’t let go of the memories.”

You know those moments of being overwhelmed. Feeling that you are in way over your head. A storm that is brewing and it is SO big and it is moving SO fast. You see it coming, but you see it only after you have been feeling the pressure and winds for weeks before hand. In those moments, “Hold on tight. Don’t let go.”

I don’t know if it is a don’t let go because something better is coming, or if it is a don’t let go because they still need you. Maybe it is a don’t let go because it is almost over. It will never make much sense to me and I will probably never understand it fully.

I am beginning to wonder if I have a sick desire for stress and extra pressure. Or maybe it is just that I am stupid enough to believe that I am resilient and invincible. This is all blended together by the fact that I STILL have not learned the word NO.

I mean, I know "NO". I say it all the time to a bunch of staff and to all my kids. No touching. No running. No screaming. No punching. No taking food off the table. No more leaving your things thrown all over. No standing on the furniture. No throwing rocks at the vehicles. No slamming doors. With all of these people around I can say the word NO!

I just haven’t learned to say No to the face of need.

I don’t know if it is because I am hearing, “It is okay. Don’t let go. Just hang on.” Or if I am imagining I hear it because it is etched into the tissues of my brain.

Last night we had a wind storm. No rain. Just wind. It knocked over the patio furniture and we thought our roof was being peeled back. This morning I went outside and it was a disaster. In front of our house is a HUGE Ceibon. This is a really large tree that grows huge here in Honduras. It is taller than a three story hotel that is close by. The tree was not touched. There were leaves all over the ground. A few sticks and twigs, but you know not one branch was on the ground. There wasn’t anything on the ground larger than my forearm.  Furniture knocked over, a solid table flipped sideways, my door flung open, and not one branch on the ground.

“Hold on tight.”

That was all that was said. I stared at the trees with the beauty of the mountains in the background. All I can hear is “Hold on tight!” It is spinning and flying in my head as fast as the winds of a tornado. Unscathed.

I don’t know who I am writing for. I know that I felt the need to share it. You will come out of this. “ ’Hold on tight. Don’t let go!”  The leaves will fall to the ground around you, but your roots grow deep. You are strong. You won’t bend or break. I have placed you in this very place at this very time. Do not think for a second it was all in vane. Did you hear me? I called you to trust me. When I said, Come Follow Me. It meant FOLLOW ME. Don’t hesitate to continue down the path even through the darkness. Do not look at the dark monstrous shadows that surround you. Come follow me. Listen to my voice and continue down the path. You are built to withstand this storm. ‘Don’t let go!’ ”

Don’t let go of His plan. Don’t let go of that dream. Don’t let go of the promise. Find His voice. It is gentle. It is constant. It is calming. It brings peace. It is full of wisdom. It is. He is. He will. He did. And He does. 

Hold on tight.