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.

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!!

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.

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

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!

Haunting Prayers

There have been a few times in my life that I have known that I am right where I am supposed to be. Most the time I kind of guess and assume. Sometimes I am SO convicted to do something that I lose sleep. Right now, is one of those moments. I can tell. I know because of the emotional, mental, and physical obstacles I have been facing. I know. I am right where He wants me.

On occasion their faces plague me. They spin around in my dreams and stop randomly on two in particular. I find myself awake in the middle of the night praying. I am determined to make a difference.

One of them is a man I have been reaching out to. He isn’t in the best of situations. I have forced my partner in crime to accompany me to visit him at least once a week. Resentful at first, a month later Nilsson is pushing me to go twice a week. We sit, we talk, we visit. I ask questions, the man answers, half of his replies are covered in lies. I know this, but I don’t care. There is something about him. We took my dad to meet him. Now I think he may be becoming his best friend. Not really, but he for sure found a soft spot in my dads heart. The other day I found out Nilsson now visits him without me. This is a little scary. We went from not interested to bi-daily chats.

In a group setting I asked if I could pray for some of the members that surrounded us. They accepted. Then I called on “him”. I asked him to pray. To pray for himself, to pray for the group around us. He said he would pray with me, but not lead. He admitted in a group of people that would likely judge him for faith that he would accompany me in the prayer. It was a start. I accepted. We prayed.

A couple weeks later he admits to my father that his grandpa was a pastor. Interesting that someone labeled as the worst of the worst of people you could possibly want to know in this life has been rooted in the word. He knows the Bible. He believes in the Bible. He is asking for the Word. He knows where true life is found. He has never forgotten his roots.

A murderer. An addict. An abuser. A liar. A thief. An adulterer. An extortioner. We have tons of negative labels that are placed on people in this world. You and I are not exempt. Whether it was big or small every one of us is plagued with a piece of guilt from some place in our past. We have a label. When we call on God, He sees NONE of this. All He can see is a child of His. Lost or found, He can see you. He cares. The church was found, the Bible it was written, His son was given, all for you. Not for perfection, but for every flaw you would have. His blood was shed.

We all are born with a basic knowledge of this. We know, deep down, there is something more, something larger.  Our families are rooted in it. Yet sometimes it is hard to just surrender. A family history of ministry isn’t necessary. It is engrained from the moment we are conceived.

My little friend. His face spins in my head. I see him when I go to sleep. I am haunted with it as I awake. So I pray for him. And I know that if I continue to show the love he will come around. It is in our visits. Our talks. Our simple prayers that he will come around.

Prayer, no matter how big or small, prayer makes a difference. 

Its Easy! Yet Hard!

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

That was then!

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

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


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

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

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

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

Just because of how life was lived?

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

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

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

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

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

What It Really Is...

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Is there anything better than that?

1-800-Pest-Man!

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Just My Paradigm...

CLAIMER: It is late and there are probably typos. I will proof it later. LOL

One thing that is great about being in Honduras and working on the projects is the unity that is brought amongst churches. It has been great to see how God brings people along side of us that help support and carry the vision of Open Doors through to completion in many areas. It is encouraging to me when I see long time friends and family take an interest and support something we are doing because it brings affirmation.

That being said, there are somethings that I really do not like. One of those things is a common question asked by close friends... What do you need?

Tonight, I had a friend write to me asking what I needed. My instant reply is that He has provided and I have no needs. That is said from the bottom of my heart. He is my constant supply. He called me to this. He gave me this burden and passion. He will supply every major and minor NEED that we have. Then it gets worse. I mean, what do you need. As in me personally? Nothing!

My mom just snipped at me and told me to not be prideful. I snipped back. It is what I do best, she IS after all my mom. "Pride? Do I not walk with you through stores and ask you if you NEED it? Is that not what I always do?" She nodded and went to bed. Only because she knows my true heart.

I live in a third world country, NOT first world! Let me give you some examples...

In the United States (First World):

We need a larger television to watch the Super Bowl.
We need a new computer because our memory is totally consumed.
We need new shoes because nothing in the closet matches that new dress.
We need new jeans because we gained too much weight over the holidays.
We need a new car because our warranty is almost expired and our child is almost 16 anyways.
We need desert because we are just not satisfied after that big steak dinner.

In Honduras (Third World):

I need water. (I currently collect rain water to bathe with and would love a hot water heater)
I need a decent car. (I get break down late at night on back mountain roads and no phone signal with my son WAY too much!)
I need a pair of shoes. (My one pair of flip flops lost their flip and no longer flop, but shuffle.)
I look out my window and need clothes for the neighborhood. (Half of the kids are naked or almost naked because the poverty is SO HIGH.)
I need some rice and beans so I can feed a few hundred kids the only meal most of them will have that day.
I need some medicine because one of the areas in need of a feeding station is too poor to get transportation to seek medical help at the public facilities so a baby has pneumonia.

You may call me prideful. I view it as being realistic. A real need is what is found in the third world column. The rest... WANTS. I "want" a lot of things. Something that I would LOVE is to just have additional funding so we can build that fourth casita and save some more kids. I cannot of course say this to people every time they ask my needs.

I don't expect you to understand me, but please don't judge me. God has placed a burden that BURNS in my heart! You will never fully understand, and that is okay. Just accept it for what it is and pray! PLEASE!!!

I am so thankful for the offers! I lack for nothing! I miss luxuries, but I don't want them. I want to continue touching lives and changing futures.  I want to meet the true "NEEDS" and share His love. I want to continue saving girls from sexual torture. I want it SO badly and SO strongly that I gave up the First World and live where I can only SEE the Third World no matter which country I reside in. I wish it were contagious because frankly being in the United States is making me SICK!

Soiled Beauty...

I recently took a couple girls with me to pick up a new child. I did it because I needed help, but didn’t know God had planned it to bring healing.

Sitting in the government office “Negra”, one of our girls, and I began to notice the awful conditions. Half of the building has no roof top. The bathroom has a  hole in the ground as a toilet, but no sink. The office desks are held up by cement blocks.  Chairs with no backs. It is sad to think that the office which is providing help to kids in need is in such poor conditions. It makes me wonder what the government homes are like?

Negra and I looked at each other and spoke with our eyes trying not to offend any workers.

The head of the office began to pull out files on kids currently in our care and kids he wants to place with us. He asked me to review them and consider others for our project. I asked for the folder containing the file of the girl I was waiting to pick up. He pulled out her file. I began reading the papers on the fourteen year old girl that had a 17 month old baby. “Twelve and pregnant?” He nodded yes. “By who?” I asked as though I am surprised. Like it is uncommon. He told me to keep reading the file. The fourth page in I noticed the babies birth certificate. Both last names matched the mom. I looked harder wondering if it was coincidence. The next page I found the sentence. The girls father was sent to prison. Sexual abuse. “Poor child.”

The girl came. Timid and shy she said nothing. Just cried. She was placed in a temporary home until the sentencing of her father was final. The baby was born in the care of the foster mom. I felt awful breaking up the bond that was created over the past two years.  More than awkward. I felt sad and angry because it feels as though I am breaking up a home. The case worker assured us all it was for the best because we are a long-term care taker not just temporary like the foster homes here. The tears streamed down each of our faces and after getting situated in the car I began to make the more than two hour drive back home.

My head hurt and my heart ached, I was thankful for the awkward silence that surrounded me.

Then, she began to talk. Not the new girl, but Negra. “Mama Lauren, that was hard. It brings back SO many memories.” I can only imagine, I thought to myself. “I cried the whole eight hours on the bus when I left home.” She told me how puffy her eyes were. She told me how bad her head hurt.. Thinking it probably hurt like mine did in the moment. I just wanted to close my eyes and sleep. It was five o’clock. I hadn’t eaten. I had no water. I was emotionally exhausted. My vision was blurry from my headache. And Negra continued to talk.

She told me how she didn’t even know she was pregnant. She said her mom knew because she noticed that she hadn’t cried in pain that month. She had a disease that made her period very painful. She said she didn’t know what was happening when a gush of water came out. She was in pain and rolling on the bed next to her sister in the night. Her sister asked what was wrong. Negra hit her in the head and told her to shut up and go to sleep. Rolling and crying with contractions and not knowing what was wrong she turned the light on. Her mother yelled at her from the other side of the room. “STUPID! Go outside and have that thing in the field because I don’t want you to mess up my home!” She began to crawl out of the house as her drunk step-father came home. (He was also the father of the baby.) The mom yelled for him to take the prostitute some place else because the creature was coming out and she wanted nothing to do with it.

Negra now in her dirty, wet, blue dress began to walk with her abusive step-father to the doctors. They sent her to the nearest hospital. Sitting in the waiting room the doctor asked Negra why she was having a child so young. She was only fourteen. Then he asked who the father of the baby was. Negra looked at the old man by her side as he pinched her from behind reminding her to keep her silence. She said nothing. The doctor told her to go take a seat until a bed was emptied. A few minutes passed and Negra began to vomit. A nurse told her to go knock on the doctors door because that baby was coming. The doctor took her to a sheetless bed. She was told to take her soiled blue dress off and given nothing. Alone with just the nurse and doctor she pushed the baby out. Two hours later, scared, crying, and naked, the nurse finally offered a hospital gown after realizing nobody was accompanying the little girl with her baby. The doctor, seeing that she had nothing, went out and purchased a few items including a diaper and socks. Negra was also given a baby blanket by another pregnant woman. Finally feeling a little comfort she went to sleep for the night.

The next morning her mother came for a visit. She told her the child was ugly and told her she should have never given birth to it. Negra, needing to use the restroom, tried getting out of the bed. Weak and bleeding she fell to her knees. Her mother laughed. A nurse walked in and told the mom to help her child. The mom scolded Negra for embarrassing her and putting on a show. Mom left angry, and Negra sat waiting for the doctors release.

When she finally was given permission to head home she put on her soiled dress and headed towards the hospital gate. The guard asked where her proof of payment was.  She had not paid. She had no money. She had nothing. Just her blue stained dressed and a baby that was crying. The guard told her to take a seat and wait for someone to come get her. She began to cry. A few minutes later the guard called her over and told her to leave. He would get in trouble if he was caught so she needed to go quickly. Negra began to make the four hour walk back to her house. She knew something had to change. This wasn’t the life she wanted. When the baby was three months old she decided she had been through enough. She got on a bus and headed to a place where she knew no one! Through a series of events God had provided for her and He opened doors for her. She came to the Gates of Hope. After sharing her story with me she looked at me and said, “ I just don’t know why. Why? Why do any of these things happen? Why did I have to go through this?”

God has been working it out and He has a purpose for placing you where you are at right now! I can’t tell you why! I can only tell you that I know you are not the only one. You know different. You know there is a better way! You are a lucky one! Now what are you going to do about it? How are you going to use it to help others?

No matter what your past is… The history you are trying to hide needs to be embraced! It has helped mold you into the beautiful person that you are. Let it become part of your ministry!  Don’t ignore or try to forget your soiled dress. He makes beauty from ashes!

L.O.V.E.

Think about it for a moment. LOVE. When you see that word what do you think of? What does it mean? A word so little, but SO BIG!  Love...

One word. Many meanings. A word that can penetrate. It goes deep.

If you grew up in a good home then you have a decent grasp of the word. Yet, just a grasp! If you grew up in an abusive home then you have no idea what the love of a parent feels like. You do, however, know what you longed for. Good past, or bad, each of us have a deep desire for love. God created us that way. If you have kids, you know a different kind of love all together. More of an unconditional love.

Today, I got to receive love. Give love. Watch love. In many ways, love is action.

All of our girls have been abused in some way. Emotionally or physically, not one seems to have escaped it. One of our girls has been abandoned repeatedly. Rejected by her mom when she was two, she was sent to live with her father. Her dad found a new woman that didn't want her around so a few months later she was sent to her grandmother. The grandmother said she was a burden and cost too much so she sent her to IHNFA. IHNFA placed her in a foster home where she was mistreated and neglected to the degree of crying hysterically if I raise my voice while giving correction. She knows no love.

This morning I was busy trying to get my January report finished. I know the month is not over, but I want my work to be over so it is one less thing I have to do this weekend. I was filling out papers to finish payroll and adding numbers and kept seeing a face in the doorway. A pacing silent shadow in my peripheral vision. A little annoyed over the distraction I went to see who it was. I asked her to come inside the room. She stood behind me as I worked and said nothing for almost half an hour. Finally, I set my things aside and looked at her, "Aha? Whats up?" Her head dropped. "Is something wrong?" Silence. Her distance concerned me, but I figured she needed a moment so I answered my ringing phone. Finishing the conversation I sat back down next to the mess of papers. I felt a hand touch my arm. I turned and pulled her close. Hugging her I felt something warm on my arm, soon followed by a sniffle. "I just want to be loved."

Sometimes I lack for a response.

What do you do? Sometimes all I can do is hug. I can assure her. But the truth is that I can only show a small bit of how GREAT His love is. She knows the sting of rejection all too well. It is time to show her what it should have been. I cannot undo the past, but I can influence her future and some of that is by showing her a love that is true and pure.

She isn't the only one that is in need. You see people that are hurting every day. What are you doing to show them LOVE?

Sometimes you just need to stop, let everything around you sit, and spread some! I mean LOVE! Don't get confused! ;)

Do your part, Be His hands! Spread His love!

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!

Clone Me, PLEASE!

How many times this year have you wished you had a clone? Like, EVERY DAY! You are not alone.

I have taken a writing hiatus for WAY too long. It just feels like there is never enough time. Can you relate? There is always something on my to-do list that seems to get pushed off until tomorrow. Or some project that I decide I don’t HAVE to have done. I can survive without it for a while.

The last couple months I spent leaving the house around 6 in the morning prepared to have Jayden in the car all day. There is always a celebration if I make it back home before 9pm. Jayden has spent more time in his car seat during his life than he has spent out of it sleeping or otherwise. I have just decided to think it is a sacrifice we can make for the difference that we are making in other areas. Deep down, I feel like a bad mom and really just wish I had a clone.

 

I need someone that will either help do my mom duty or that will help be the hands for my heart. Does that make any sense? I feel like I am at a point where it is one thing or the other, but both of them urgent, important, and impacting. Family is always first, but which family because they are all a part of my family.

At Open Doors, we really need some help. I need sponsors for kids. I need an additional $1,800 a month because right now I have six kids that are looking to call us family and come home with us.  I need staff.  I need a full-time teacher to teach on our projects and tutor some of our children. I need someone to help me with easy jobs like keeping track of chores. Helping a child learn their alphabet and numbers. I need someone to help me divide the boxes and sacks full of food each week. I need someone to help babysit. I need someone to help give kids hugs, love, and counsel. I need someone to help serve plates of food. I need someone with a heart. Either a heart to give so we can pay a staff member, or a heart to serve and assist on a daily basis.

About a month ago, I was preparing boxes of food at the feeding station.  I had to make sure the kitchen was prepared because I was not going to be back with supplies for two weeks. I struggled dragging a 100 lb. sack of rice into the kitchen at the feeding station and I felt a little hand on my back. As I turned to look I saw Joche’s smile. He is 11. He quickly came around and picked up the other end of the sack to help ease my burden. He then returned to the car and helped me carry the remaining items. He commented on the amount of food and the quantity that he was seeing. I was quick to ask him how many kids ate each day at that feeding station and his expression informed me that he understood without much explanation why there was SO much food in his eyes. He asked me if I had anything extra I could send home because he hadn’t had dinner and it was close to 8pm. I had nothing except crackers in my bag and the food that was already designated for the feeding station.  He took the crackers, gave me a hug and skipped away. The next day as I was dropping off the purified water they needed to cook with for the week Joche came running up again, but this time with his 6 year old brother.  It was almost lunch time and plates were being filled as I shuffled in the water containers. I stayed to help serve and clean up. Just as I was ready to leave Joche and his brother came and asked if I had any grocery bags left over. I happened to have one in the car that I gave them. I didn’t ask why. I said my goodbye’s to the cooks and turned to walk away when I caught a glimpse of the two brothers shooing away dogs and scraping the food off the table into the bag I just gave them.  They were collecting their families dinner. Hear me! The food droppings that the dogs eat. *pause* They were carefully collecting for their dinner. Even now, I have to stop to wipe away the tears. 

How can I tell of a love so great that He would die for you, yet because of hunger pangs you cannot concentrate in school or sleep at night.  Joche has a little sister that was so sick from being malnourished she was hospitalized for three weeks and almost died. Time and again this is what I face. Now you see why I have a hard time choosing. I want to be SuperMom and SAVE the world at the same time. How can I do both? I have to show the love. Not just tell stories about it. I have to be the love so that they can in a small way catch a glimpse of what it is all about.

If you are not currently support Open Doors will you consider making a monthly commitment. Will you skip a night out each month and designate those funds for one of our kids? Can you hold a house party to raise awareness? Can you talk to your church and ask them to consider sponsoring our ministry or letting us speak to the congregation? Can you talk to your family and friends and ask them to consider sponsoring the work we do?

If you are reading this, you know me. You know my heart. Please, HELP. PLEASE, Help us to continue making a difference.  

If you already support Open Doors, THANK YOU!!! We don’t tell you enough! THANK YOU! You are the reason we are able to save lives! You are the reason we are able to protect these children from child slavery and prostitution! You are the reason poverty and abuse is not their future! Because of YOU we have 51 children on our property full-time. Because of YOU we are touching over 300 kids at the feeding stations.  You are making a difference!

If you want to give, sign up here: Open Doors