Santa, Christmas, and Helping Others!

“Mom, I don’t want to stay here for Christmas. I want to go to Mimi’s!”

“But Jayden, this is where we live. Why don’t you want to be home for Christmas?”

“Because Santa doesn’t come to Honduras!  Why not mom? Why?”

I had to think. I wasn’t sure how to respond. I let the words I had just heard sink in. How do I defend this? Does it really need a defense? I was frustrated by his persistence on something so insignificant.

Christmas. A celebration. A party of sorts in remembrance of our SAVIOR! He didn’t say Christmas doesn’t come to Honduras. He said SANTA.  We have spent the last couple days preparing for Christmas at the orphanage. He has begged for every nativity scene to come home with us because we need to have Baby Jesus under our tree. He gets the reason behind the season I love. What he doesn’t get is why Santa doesn’t come here with all the pretty packages.

At first, I thought this was awful. This child of mine that wasn’t grasping the reason Santa is not in Honduras. Then I remembered a note that I received from the director of his school. “Jayden is the first in his class to help and give to another student in need.”  The thought was reassuring in the moment. The kid that makes once a week visits to the school nurse. The English speaking kid that gets in trouble every week for speaking too much Spanish in school. The kid that is too rough for his age, and while the teacher says he is just playing, some how the other students tend to get hurt. That kid. He is my little giver. My helper. I quickly had flashbacks of how many times I would yell for him to stop giving away his toys because he wouldn’t have any left. Then I remembered the days we couldn’t buy groceries and he would give away his last cheese stick to the little girl that came and begged at the gate. If anybody understands the giving principal it is him. He gets it so well. He thinks Santa should be giving too. It is the poverty and dirt he does not see.

He lives surrounded by the poverty in this country. He has helped feed the poorest of the poor. He plays with them. Laughs with them. And he has helped them brush off the dirt as they stand up from falling off the rocks outside the feeding station. How do I explain that the families can’t afford presents without ruining the mystery of Santa? The real reason there are no pretty packages is because of the poverty that surrounds us?

He has asked why I haven’t started preparing the baskets for our kids. He likes to put in the drink packets. How do I explain that this year the ministry doesn’t have the funds for Christmas baskets so we aren’t giving to all the families at the feeding station? We only have enough for some families so we have plenty of time to get it done.

I have similar thoughts to his all the time.

I have turned down at least one new child every day over the past week. I pray that God sends someone to meet their needs so they don’t go to bed hungry at night because I can’t bring them home. I sob as I try to go to sleep feeling an agony so deep that it pierces my soul in an excruciating way. “God, let them know they are loved!”

I went last week to meet with a girl that is not just wanting placement, but needs it. I want to say yes. I just can’t right now. On the way home I stopped to pick up one last ingredient for the Christmas cookies we were going to make that evening. As I stood in the check-out lane Jayden picked up some “pretties”.  With all of his excitement “Look it! Look it!! Mom!!! Look at this!!!” I reluctantly turned to let him know I was sort of paying attention. “Can we get this for the new girl for Christmas? She would like it!”

How do I explain to a four year old that has more compassion than I do, the reason I can’t bring home more kids?

I think every year Open Doors makes a plea for help with Christmas baskets and Christmas presents.

My plea is for something more. It is for consistent monthly support. It is for families to “adopt” a child from afar and send them support so they can feel and experience the love of a Savior. What if this year instead of sending corporate gift baskets a corporate sponsorship of a child was made? What if instead of a gift to someone that already has everything, you gave in their honor to someone with nothing?

I think it would be great to play Santa all year. Not just stopping in the month of December. Giving a gift that will continue to impact and change a life. Making a difference. If that is something that would interest you please go to our website and donate now! Help us continue to be a blessing! 

Donate Now!

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!!!

Snagged...

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Just Another Lump Of Clay

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Not MY cup!

Let me start by saying...

MERRY CHRISTMAS!!!
A bit late.

Christmas has actually passed and was over almost 15 hours ago. Putting away the leftovers my heart was a little saddened. This year trying to fit personal time in amongst spending Christmas with our family of 60+ people here at Open Door Ministries was a bit of a challenge. We rushed through our "intimate" family Christmas so we could make it in time to see each child and tia open their gifts and share dinner together. It all happened so FAST!

WARNING!!! I am going to be extremely honest for a few minutes. Just hear my heart out.

I listened as my dad commented on this being one of the BEST holidays EVER! My immediate thought was really? Really dad? How could you think that? I miss being home in the states. I LOVED having most of our family here, but I miss the U.S.A. How could anybody enjoy being away from the comforts of home for a holiday? I was upset. I was sad. I want to see my Aunts and Uncles and all of my cousins and their kids. I want to share some special time with my friends, if they even still consider me a friend after being away for so long. I want to wash the turkey grease out of dishes with hot water and real water pressure. I want to be able to take a shower with out running the water tank dry on Christmas Eve and having to pray for rain so we can bathe on Christmas morning.

Then...

This happened! At the Gates of Hope, Tania began dancing with Nilsson. They were all Praise and Worship songs. Some of them fun. Some just sweet and beautiful. Nilsson was tired and decided to take a break and Tania played a special song that she wanted to dedicate to Mama Penny, Papa Barry, Tia Sandy, and I. As she danced all alone without a bit of shame and sang she was touched by His hand. The song is a little boy that is singing of his hearts deepest desires. And the chorus pleads that the father would just give the gift of love, and time, and affection. Nothing more. It is representative of our Heavenly Father giving us His love, and there is a part of the song that has the Father responding and affirming the childs desires for the earthly love. At the end of the song Tania ran to me and collapsed. As she weeped on my shoulder I had the tears streaming down my face and had to repent. In a world so full of hurt, pain, and sorrow all our kids need is love. His love and my love. Unconditional love. Pure love. The love that comes with the acceptance from a mother and a father.

Psalms 23:5 Talks about God preparing the banquet tables, He fills them to the top even in the presence of our enemies, He anoints our heads with oil; OUR cups run over!

I prayed that His love works throughs me that it fills me SO much that it runs over! His blessings have been poured out on our homes. His hope, His peace, His LOVE! Oh, if I could only portray how humbling the last 24 hours have been.

Our family then went to spend time at the Village of Hope to watch the little kids open their gifts. I sat with Reina watching her feel awkward and asked her to show me what she had received trying to give her some special attention in the midst of her casita's chaos. As she pulled items out of her gift bag her eyes began to water. She stopped pulling things out and dropped her bag so she could then hang on me and she bathed me with her tears. Again, I cried.

Nilsson working on a puzzle with
Engleis at midnight. It was important
for him to finish it.

It wasn't about giving presents. It is being with family. It is about the LOVE! It is about spending time with your "kids" even if it is midnight, and you have to be up early to see a patient.

I hope you have felt the love from your family and friends this Christmas. I hope you have found His LOVE to be overwhelming!

His love is real. Just like the day Jesus was born in the manger. As Mary and Joseph sought for a place to lay down and rest. Knocking and hoping to be received in and accepted. It remains that He is looking for a place to reside and place to pour out His love. First, you have to allow Him in and answer the knock on the door.

Give Him a chance,  let Him fill your cup!

By the way, I think I may have to agree with my dad. This was the best Christmas ever!