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.

Breaking

Just a break

That is all. That’s it. A break. I want to wake up and not see your face. I want to walk outside and not have you greet me. I want to enter a store or a clinic without you asking for something. I want a day, an hour, even just a minute of peace and rest.

I am exhausted. I feel plagued. I have spent two weeks wanting to write. Two weeks thinking, processing, now I have silence… Then another clang is at my gate. Shhhh… I want a sign that says baby sleeping. You wouldn’t be able to read it.

I want a guard that sends you away and tells you to leave me alone. You wouldn’t understand it.

I pay you to take my garbage so you can find food amongst the smelly leftovers and buy water to drink. I give you my moldy clothes and broken sandles so you can be clothed. And daily you ask me for more. Daily you find me. I buy your half rotten oranges because I wonder what it would be like if it was all I had to offer the only form of survival. I offer you my last tortilla praying with every ounce of my being my husband will have a patient today so he can bring home dinner.

Then I watch. I watch your young children come with your babies hoping I will give medicine. I make them laugh. I play with them trying to catch a twinkle in the deepest parts of their eyes. I touch them giving them the only form of healthy affection that they will most likely ever know in their lives. I get annoyed by the frequent visits as I turn to go back inside.

I listen as the judge comes and tells me about the most recent sex traffickers being caught. I hear a name I recognize. It was her.

I begged to be left alone. I pleaded for silence. Now I am consumed by the guilt and the bitter frustration that I didn’t step in sooner. The voice that once annoyed me I wonder if I could have helped. The banging and knocking, the pleads for assistance. What if I had stopped and truly listened? What if my plans and to-do lists had been set to rest for an hour or two? Would it have changed your future? Could I have saved your pain?

There is no training. There is no preparation. The frustration. The guilt. The anger. The bitterness. The helplessness. Nothing could ever prepare me for the emotions I feel.

My heart aches. I think it is breaking into pieces. There is a love I know to be so pure. So kind. So genuine. I want to share it. I want to pour it out. I want to take each and every one of them and place them in the most beautiful crystal encasing and show them what it is to truly be a princess. A King. A Savior. A Provider. A Healer. The One that can change it all. The One that intended for all things good and beautiful, to know and be known. How would she ever know? How can she ever comprehend? Did He hear her cry? Does He see her tears? You can say yes, but when it only feels like a NO what is left?

She questions her birth? I tell her of a purpose and a destiny. She wonders if I’m drugged. If only she weren’t living. I assure her there is a bigger picture. One she can’t see. One she can’t trust. If the bigger picture was always there than why did she suffer the hurt?

Questions. Answers. Questions. Thoughts. Questions without answers.

Preparation? A life full of love. Pre-requisite? Willing heart. Duties? Too many to name.

Looking for someone to help fill some shoes. The one that walked before me left an impression to big for me to fill. Please send some extra hands and feet. 

The Unspoken

Why is it that most of the time the days we feel the MOST joy we are smacked in the face with an overwhelming sorrow?

She was scared and nervous. The doctor asked her to change and put on a gown. She looked at me for assurance. I can only imagine that her hesitation was really fear that gripped her. The only male interaction she has ever had was unhealthy and full of abuse. I nodded to her hoping to push her along and she slowly proceeded to do as was asked of her.

As she walked in with her new ugly robe she sat on the edge of the bed with hesitation. She laid back as though it hurt her the closer she got to touching the cold vinyl. Again, I just smiled.

The doctor explained that she would be able to watch the big plasma that was hanging on the wall in front of us. As he began to move the cold jelly tickled her slightly. I looked up and saw a hurricane on a screen. I giggled. “Do you realize what that is?”  She shook her head harshly, but didn’t ask for an explanation. “Wait, you don’t know what that is?”  I scratched my head no believing what she just said. “IT’S YOUR BABY!!!!!!”  She didn’t smile. She didn’t nod. She didn’t react at all.

“WE ARE GOING TO HAVE A BABY!!!” The blur on the screen bounced around like a Mexican jumping bean. I was elated. She showed NO emotion at all. Suddenly, I fought back tears. “Lauren, you seem ready for another child.” I didn’t know what to say. I am, I think. “Yes, one day…”  I was smacked in the face with a big glop of jealousy, envy, and a side of anger. I wanted to ask if she didn’t realize that there are thousands of woman crying for a child and they are waiting for an answer for prayer. The emotion of every miscarriage I had overwhelmed me. Why? I immediately want to ask God why her? Why not me?

She just turned 13 only two weeks ago. She was twelve. She was twelve when she was abused day after day. Her mother knew nothing. She was afraid of the reaction that would be thrust upon her if she spoke negatively of the mom’s current lover. So she stayed silent.

She wanted none of this. She is now forced to raise a creation she wanted no part in making. She gets to do it without her blood family. I wanted all of it. I dream of holding another baby. The worst part of it all? I allowed my emotions to get in the way of a serious ministry opportunity. AGAIN!!!

Why do I do this? Why is it such a struggle to set ourselves aside and focus on another for more than just a few minutes? Why did I not consider how I would feel if I was her? She is lost, sad, scared, and lonely.

That is her reality.  Now is yours really that bad? Find your joy! AND KEEP IT!!!

Stubbornly Helpless!

Maybe I am wrong, but I think everybody at some point goes through this awkward stage of becoming an adult. We try to take control and act like we know everything. Then we feel pressure. We think we will crack. We ask for outside help. We don't accept the advice from the outside helper. Then we spazz as we realize we have royally screwed something up. So finally, with desperation, we cry out to God and ask for help.

This is becoming more and more real every day.

I am noticing so many of our kids that have these issues. Some with school, some with family life, some with their "new siblings", some with the house moms, some with church. They all have something. Almost always they think they know the best way to do something or handle it.

I have a girl that had some school shoes that were really kind of sick. For three days I told her to put some shoe glue on the soles so she wouldn't have problems on her way to or from school. She ignored me! A couple days later she came home from school dirty, white socks turned brown, and with tears on her face. Her shoe fell apart and she was forced to walk with one shoe almost the entire way home from school. "Now will you help me glue it?" she couldn't even look me in the eye. "OF COURSE!!!" How easy it is for someone who has experience to step in and try to help us avoid a painful lesson. Yet, how common it is for us to want to do it all on our own!!!

What are you not letting God help you accomplish in your life? What has someone older or wiser been trying to help you avoid that you aren't listening to? There is wisdom in years. It is SO easy for us to admit we messed up and just ask for ask. Except for when we let our own pride get in the way! Sometimes we all just need to ask for a little help!

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?

Please Sir, I Want Some More!

I did it again!!!    I ate my words.

I decided that I would take nothing else on. Accept no more responsibility. Bring home NO MORE KIDS. You know, until I had more help.

Yup, I blew it. AGAIN!!!

Maybe it was me. Maybe it was my mom. Maybe it was really God. I am so confused that I cannot tell you what really happened.

Some how, we just grew again! In the midst of trying to clean up messes and working on figuring out what motivates the teen girls to make such awful decisions, and catch up on everything I left for someone else to do, but don't remember any job in particular that I have to do...  I think I may have said yes to one too many kids. Fighting the feelings of hyperventilation I am looking for new sponsors, more uniforms, additional baby supplies, and increasing the food supply, AGAIN!

Only one of the five new kids this week was planned. The rest, just sort of happened.

There was a commotion as a lady began to try to steal two children from a young girl walking through the market. The girl was 17 year old Miriam. She was looking for work and had her two kids and her 13 year old sister by her side. While the sisters were fighting for the kids, a man began to grab one of the sisters pushing her towards a car. Luckily, the noise drew attention and some assistance came to their rescue. The girls were taken to a safe place with the two babies and eventually we were called for help.

The story grows deeper. The girls were sent away from their home in the mountains by their mother. The step-father was trying to sell them to neighborhood men. The mom knew that the only way to protect them was to get them out of their village. The 17 year old was already left with a soon-to-be 3 year old and a 22 month old. The little sister would only be forced into the same lifestyle that was pushed upon the older sister.

So here we are sitting in a room with the four kids. Pretty little girls that were being taken advantage of and weren't allowed to study beyond third grade. We have a home that is full to capacity, and don't have the provision to bring home more children. Then, I look down as my son rolls his ball over their shoeless feet. That was all I needed to see. I didn't even want to look at my mom to see her reactions or thoughts.

I look up and nod at the psychologist assuring her we will do what we can. What was left to do? What would you have done? Do you say no I don't have a crib for your baby? Or do you take them home and make it work?

They are here!!!  The stress of it all is starting to sink in. It has pushed us over to the next level and we are looking for more permanent help. We need more baby items and also more toddler clothes. The girls have already been attending school at the Gates Of Hope and are adjusting to their new life styles. We are looking to God to provide more. I think He misunderstood when I asked for more though. I meant resources. He gave me kids.

His timing is always perfect. His plans are bigger, better, deeper, and wider. We started 2013 with goals that were going to push us to the next level. We are only in June. He is meeting us right where we are at and carrying us forward. We have new ministry opportunities. New partners. New buildings in the works. And continued progress on the existing areas. It is SO exciting! It is something only He can orchestrate. He is using SO many of you to help and assist. Thank you! Your help. Your service. Your donations. Your faithfulness. Your support. Your prayers! You help make it all happen.

Thank you for believing in us and helping us touch lives! Thank you for making a difference in the lives of these children!

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!

MY HERO!

No matter the hour, the day, the plans... He is there.

You know how as a child you could always count on your parents? It didn't matter what I got into as a kid, my parents were there to bail me out. It didn't matter what I had done, they were there. THEY WERE THERE! In an instant to save me from hidden dangers. Like Superman, but without all the muscles and special powers!

I was talking with a girl from the Gates of Hope a few days ago. She doesn't belong here. She has no child. She was not being abused according to the paperwork. The reason we have her is because I am a sucker. She ran away from home. The mom she was living with (who is really grandma) could not deal with her so she called the police. IHNFA was involved and I was called. They have no home for her. If I don't accept her she will go to jail because there are no beds available in foster homes. I met with her and we spoke for a few hours and I committed to TRY and see what happened. I reminded the attorney she did not meet the requirements for our home so the first minor issue we have she will be kicked out. We signed the papers and life goes on.

A few days ago I saw her crying alone. I sat down beside her and began to pry hoping to resolve her issues. I soon found out how little I could really do for her. She is feeling alone. She is feeling abandoned. She is feeling worthless. In digging deeper and asking why she reveals some more history. She ran away from home because her grandmother was abusive. Her grandmother sent her mom to a "friend" when she was a teenager looking for work. They were desperate for money. That "friend" was working for a sex house. There is a home here locally that holds young girls against their will to sexually satisfy paying customers. Her mom escaped, but was already pregnant. She left the baby with her mom and fled to the states. Now the young girl in our care was this baby. The grandmother had introduced her to a "friend" for the same job her mom escaped from. Our girl ran away from home because she was scared and felt alone and didn't want history to repeat itself. She resents her mom for leaving her in the hands of someone that will force her to live in the dark shadows her mom left behind. She hates her grandmother for making her mom leave. She hates her aunts and uncles because nobody stepped in and offered help. She wants absolutely NOTHING to do with her biological family.


How easy is it for someone like me to trust in God? How easy is it for me to forget to trust in Him? How much easier would it be for someone like her to trust in no one?

I had a hero growing up. I have an example of fulfilled faith. She has nothing, but lies. Hurt. Failure.

It is so hard to teach someone to trust when they can trust NO ONE! It is so hard to show someone unconditional love and support when they believe their "dream" they are living may shatter
tomorrow.

She needs a real life hero! Luckily, I know a Savior!

Sex For Tortillas!!!

 “Because I have hope that in her eyes, it makes a difference.” That was my reply. I didn’t know what else to say. I didn’t know how to ever make him understand. When a person asks why I do what I do, I get upset. I get nervous. I begin to feel insignificant. Unimportant. I feel dumb.

I think maybe I was stupid for letting go of a success driven life. I question if it would serve everyone better if I just left it all and began the rat race all over again. You know the race where each of you look for the next piece of cheese hoping each one you find is bigger and better than the last. In the end your pay check is full of numbers. Sometimes, I just wish I had a pay check and the size of it is really unimportant. All of these thoughts flood through my head at this moment and are followed with, “Why? Why do I do it?”

I dread the ride to IHNFA. I always dread the ride to pick up a new kid. Recently, I had the chance to meet Madeline. She is thirteen years old and has a newborn. Picking her up to take her to her new home is a reminder of all of the car rides I have had over the past few years with the kids that first come in. I get to know them. Know their past. Cry with them. Love on them. And help give them the hope of a better future. I kind of like this part, but I kind of hate it. I hate it because I never know who will get car sick and throw up all over me. (She only threw up twice.) It can be a long two hours. I hate it most because I never know what words will be filtered through my ears.  There is a part of me that cannot stand the horrid history that most of our kids bring with them. You think you have baggage because of past issues, but hear this. “My family couldn’t afford to send me to school. We had no money for food. I was sold so that my siblings could eat.”  Are you okay with that? How did that make you feel? “They were able to eat.”

My insides begin to twist and the silent grey matter yells!! They were able to eat? That makes it have value? It was worth it? How does that make it worth it?! Every day for the rest of her life you get to look at the result of a meal that was placed on the table.  What was taught to her is that her life, her body, and her value is worth a small meal! I am not talking a fine dining steak and potatoes meal. I am talking a tortilla with some beans and eggs! She has a child and she should be studying! She has a baby and she should be playing with baby dolls! She is forced to change diapers and wake up four times in the middle of the night for the next few months, but her little sister got to eat a tortilla!! I want to ask if she cried. Why did they pick you? Did it hurt? Were you scared? What infections did you get? Have you had treatment for it? Those answers, I know, will come with time.

What were you doing when you were thirteen? What did you think about? What did you dream of? How did you spend your time?

Madeline is so excited just for the chance to go to school. How would you have felt if you were thirteen and starting kindergarten? She is stoked! I would have felt like the stupid kid with the dunce hat. Not her. She doesn’t even seem to mind that she has to take care of her baby. She seems so resilient. It is amazing! So strong for being so young.

So back to the original question:

Why do I do it? Because I hope that I can change her world and give her the opportunity to have a future that is full of true love, not sexual slavery. I hope that her daughter will grow up in a functional home and learn real life values so that she can have a better future than her mom and not suffer the same abuse. I hope that there is some small chance that the backwards thinking that comes with abuse and poverty can be broken and that a new cycle will begin in her family with a new heritage that can be found in Him! I hope, that there is some sliver of a chance that Madeline will find healing, and wholeness, and purpose, and have an opportunity to make something with her life. I hope, more than anything, that she will discover hope in Him.

More importantly, I do it because I know this:

One day, it will have made a difference in her eyes.

Because from now on there is no more sex for tortillas!

I Give Up!

I am not sure where to begin. Today has been eventful. Emotional. Overwhelming. Exhausting.

It started a week ago. On January 1st around 10:15 pm I received a phone call. An attorney for the municipality in Tocoa was looking for immediate placement of three children. Maybe it was because I was already asleep. Maybe it was because of the urgency I heard in her voice. Maybe it was because God knew what they needed. I said yes. Three kids arrived shortly before midnight.

Arvin 5 Months

Jose 10 years old

Perla Samantha 6

Their mother was shot four times and sent to a hospital in La Ceiba. They had no place to go. The only person that was able to help care for them was a grandfather that was now helping the mom in a different city. I knew when I said yes that the reality of them staying was going to be for more than one day. That is just how things work in this country. It always ends up being at least a few days. Sometimes longer. I told the attorney they could stay until they had a safe place to send them. I texted my mom an update on the situation and her reply was "that could be never, lol". Funny, yet not so funny.

These children came with one outfit and one pair of shoes. The baby, which is a boy, had on a pink sleeper when he came. Lucky for them we have a house of plenty. We have supporters that send us clothes and were able to pick some good outfits for them. 

A week had passed and the kids were looking for information about their mother. Knowing she was in critical condition all I could tell the kids to do was pray and wait, but for now they were in a safe home and their needs were taken care of. Perla returned five minutes later and said, "I am leaving soon, my mom is getting better." I could only hope she was right. While scrolling through the phone book of my phone I recognized a new name. It dawned on me that the name was also the new director of the hospital that their mom was sent to. I started to ask for a favor and research information looking for any bit of news I could give to the children. I went to bed with NOTHING! 

This morning I woke up. I texted another friend from the same hospital to see if anybody could give me any news. NOTHING! Then two hours later I see a message, I blink as I read the following: "she is dead". My heart sank. I began to wonder if that was why the attorney was not answering my calls. As I sat in a chair trying to focus on paperwork, but contemplating what to say to these kids I had a knock on my door. I crack it open afraid to see Jose or Perla. It was Tania. I was relieved. "Mama Lauren, there is a lady at the gate and she wants to see you." I grabbed my keys and walked out the door hoping it was the attorney and thinking she may this hard task away from me I sighed.

I find this...  meet Gloria and one of her daughters.

Gloria was sent to us by the local health department. She says hello and looks like the sun was too much so I have her come inside. She immediately looks for a chair and collapses. With tears flowing she begins to share her story:

She has aids. When she was a little girl her mother sold her to a couple. The man sexual abused her and gave her a present she would never forget. A present that would cost her her life. She has three children. I cannot remember any of their names, but it is only midnight and I have been on an emotional ride since before the sun came up this morning. Forgive me. I will post their names in the morning. The oldest daughter is 11, the second oldest (shown above) is 8, and the youngest is a 5 year old boy. Her husband died, from aids, when her son was a baby. She is alone. She is scared. She has no support. She needs help. She is still trying to work a little, but no more than three days a week. She grabs my hand and says, "I can't do it anymore." Her oldest daughter notices she is gradually becoming more sick. She is weaker. Because her daughter told her mom they needed to know where they could go tomorrow if she was gone she came looking. She has tried to continue to be a mom, a dad, and a provider for as long as she could.

I needed a break. I asked her to give me a minute to check on Jayden. It was a lie. I knew Jayden was fine running around getting into trouble. I went to my room and collapsed. "God, I give up! I can't do this job any more!" We have no more beds! We don't have support for all of the children we have! We don't have support for all of the ongoing projects! She has a need. I cannot help. She has a NEED! How can I say no? I stare at my phone contemplating who to call. Do I call the states? Do I call my husband? I can't take three kids home with me. That is WAY too much. I also know I cannot keep them on the projects because we DO NOT have the funding. Crying I call my mom. Mom can always make me feel better, right? I was hoping. A female did not answer the phone. Not that my dad greeting me is bad, but I was wanting a good listener. Dad is good at hugging and fixing, not really listening. (Sorry!) I ask for mom, he puts me on speaker. I HATE SPEAKER PHONE! Oh well... I could not hold back any longer. "I QUIT MY JOB!!! I cannot do this any longer!" They ask whats up. I give them the scoop. Wiping snot off my face I lift my head and see Sandy is behind me listening, supporting, comforting from a distance. My dad asks about the new kids we have been waiting to receive since the end of November. IHNFA... They always have something else and it is always on their time. He proceeds to say, "You have the kids, they have the need, just get the papers and work on the funding." That is all I needed to hear. I think I ran out of the door. (I know I did because when I came back to the bathroom I had black streaks down my cheek. Gloria had to know I had been crying.) I run out to tell Gloria the list of things I need from her to make the transition. We call the lab and I sent her immediately to get blood work for the kids. They are negative! PRAISE GOD! The attorney is working on papers making us legal guardians so it will be permanent, and tomorrow it should all be completed. Before Gloria left I gave her a hug and told her I cannot imagine what she was going through, but that would be here to help support her through each and every process. She is moving into a room that the Pastor of her church has been renting. The agreement is for her to pay as she has it. If she can't work they will figure something else out. Leaving her children must be one of the hardest things for her. Walking away wanting to watch them grow old. Wanting to see your grandchildren. Knowing you will never have that chance and waiting for the ticking of the clock to stop each day. I cannot fathom. I cannot help ease that pain. I can hardly bare to try and comfort her kids during this transition. All I can do is love. 

I have cried off and on ALL DAY! My eyes are puffy. My head is aching. I am annoyed with everyone. I am so emotionally drained at the moment that I have nothing left to give. Don't even ask for a glass of water! Pray for me over the next few days. I need strength and wisdom. I need to know how to help and what to say. I still have some bad news to share with some little kids.

We also need sponsors! We need 225 people to give $100 each month for the next year. We need to consider that fourth casita. Today an additional security guard started. I am meeting with potential teachers. I am looking for the best private school for the four girls moving on into high school they have to be registered by the 15th. All of this is because of the support that you help provide. 

Thank you! Thank you for the problems that you help solve! Thank you for helping us make a difference! Tell your friends. Tell your family. Tell your church community. There is room for everyone to get involved. The need is great and I really HATE saying we cannot! God has enough in His Kingdom. We just have to make sure we are doing our part!

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