The Rains Came Down

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

And the rains came down. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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!

Cloudy Goggles

Most days at the projects I am awakened by a text, phone call, or knocking on my door. Most nights are spent reviewing my inbox and trying to reply to as much as I can and give as much detail as possible before my eyes cross and head hits the keyboard. The kids have a box that they can place their questions, concerns, complaints, and special requests in. The staff tends to use text or email.

Last night, I had seven emails from one person within an hour. All of them explaining situations and describing current frustrations.

My natural response is frustration and anger. The feelings apply to not just the person the email is written about, but towards the writer as well. So much time is needed to pour into, mold, create, develop a person/worker of excellence. When a typical reaction would be to fire and get rid of the problem. My heart is to pause, pray, evaluate, train, correct, and develop both parties into the employee that we so desperately need.

He said and she said happens all the time. Not just here. It is a plague that has infested the church and the body of Christ. How quick we are to act and react! Why don’t we hesitate and contemplate the ENTIRE situation, then with calm give a response. The way we respond to it separates us from being just average and a true disciple. What would happen if in the pause we looked through their eyes?

REACTING! Not only do the employees do this. I DO THIS! I do this not just with workers, but with kids in the orphanage. Not just those kids, but my own kids. Worse, I do it with my life partner. What spouse wants someone that will respond with haste? I don’t that is why I normally reply in bitter angst. Yours truly. I do that! Me! The one with the heart of gold. Haha. Last week I think I made a confession to my dad that someone demanded something of me recently. I didn’t do it. He snickered. I was feverishly angry. “Ask me for help, I will dedicate my life to it! Demand something from me, my feet will become stuck in cement as my arms fall off my side.” That is me!

Maybe that is why with our staff you don’t find me dictating. I will not command or demand. I let them be the mom of the house. When I see issues I will step in, draw attention to a problem area, and suggest a different way of handling it. Nobody wants to be ruled with an iron fist. Look through their eyes, understand the why, the frustration, the education or lack there of, then with love we can correct. No house mom is working just for the money. They wouldn’t last. The current group of staff members is there because of LOVE. Love for Him, Love for them.

My reply to the rambling email complaints was all of that paragraph above. This immediately brought on an additional three emails full of apologies, prayers, and asking for more help. Amazing how when we address things calmly and with love the response that we get in return!

You know the saying, "You can catch more flies with honey than with vinegar"? Most of my family HATES those words. We are all independent, leaders, and we tend to be controlling so that we can get the job done the RIGHT way the FIRST time. Then I married someone just like that. Why? Because I was dumb and didn’t weigh the frustration that I would feel in having someone like that permanently by my side. Behind that, is the fact that God knew,  I need someone to stand by my side to get things done. I didn’t need someone that would sit on his butt until I was run over by the bus I was trying to stop on my own. I needed someone just as strong and powerful to stop the bus with me, or to push me out of the way when it wasn’t worth my effort. Now if I can remember to only see that side!

The basis for all help and assistance the root of it all is LOVE. What motivates you most in life? Are we not all passionate about making life beautiful and wonderful for the ones we love most? A man will work 20 hours a day to provide for his wife and children. (Driven by love.) A woman will work a 12 hour shift and come home to cook, clean, and do homework. (Again it is for love.) If something needs to change, if there is something wrong… How do you motivate the ones around you to change? Through LOVE!

Me loving you is showing you, changing you, growing you. It doesn’t matter if it is work, family, or friends. If you don’t do it for love you won’t stick with it for long. If a subconscious or material need is met by working your butt off, you will eventually become bitter with your boss. If you love what you do because of WHO you do it for and because of what will be produced, at the base you will find love.

 I do it for them... 

which in turn is for Him!

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. 

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 Best Christmas Ever!

We have new neighbors. They have been here for a few months, but they are still new. They speak perfect English which I love, and they have a four year old that waits for Jayden to appear so she can play. 

My neighbors were deported after living in the states for more than 20 years. The wife is a citizen, but her husband is not. She got stuck joining him on this crazy adventure. 

Normally we talk about things they miss. A good church, real bathrooms, running water, electric that turns a light of when you flip the switch. Wait, electric that is reliable and only goes out when a big storm hits or something huge like that! A bit ago we began talking about Christmas. About the cost of living here, lack of income and an expense higher than what they had in California. The question of how they will celebrate the special day resonates in their heads. The yearning to have something special for an only child. The hope of being able to have a special celebration, party, or dinner. The fact is that all of this requires money. And just like most people they don't have any. 

Bad news for them, they were talking to me! Lol

I began to point out surrounding areas where the families are picking through trash to eat and survive. I reminded them of the day the garbage truck went by and the men working were eating the food found from within the garbage bags. I also shared the story of our feeding station children. 

The kids that eat at Las Brisas 1 and 2 are known to only have one hot meal a day because of our ministry. The kids are commonly know to have a dinner of a bag of chips that is so small it costs the equivalent of .05 cents. And no it isn't the same size as our lunch box chips found on the shelves in the states. These kids commonly pass through weekends without eating. This year Christmas is on a Wednesday. Our stations are closed this year on Saturday, Sunday, Tuesday (Christmas Eve), and Wednesday (Christmas Day). That means our kids will only be fed by us on three days that week. It is hard to find someone who will work for minimum wage that wants to work a holiday. 

I have kids that have been asking since October if they will be able to eat or if they will get one of the Christmas Baskets we try to pass out each year. We have 120 families that look for the baskets as a means of survival during the holidays. This year, it aches me to not know if they will eat. I think about how so many families will indulge. Turkey, ham, tamales, pork legs, desserts galore, finger foods, ponche... We eat until we bust. It pains me to know that even if I give what I have and we don't celebrate in my home there will still be babies rubbing their tummies. There will still be cries of little ones that can't figure out why their headhurts and belly aches. 

I am SO grateful for every blessing in my life. I am grateful that on the days when I didn't have milk for my son and I had already given away my last grain of rice that God has always sent someone with a blessing for our family. I am grateful that last year I was blessed by someone and we finally got a Christmas tree. I am grateful that every time I have been nervous and questioned God has provided. 

Right now, I am nervous. I am concerned. I am worried about the families that don't have the necessities, yet still believe that God is God. The families that rejoice when they have nothing. The children that have needs unmet and still believe that He is their provider. I want to make sure I am doing my part. I am making their need known. I am asking. I need $3,200 for these families to each receive a basket. 120 families.  If you will give $26.70 so a family can eat on Christmas will you please send a check to:

Open Door Ministries

P.O. Box 452831

Kissimmee, FL 34744

We are still dedicated to making sure 100% of your donation is sent to serve its designated purpose. Please write Las Brisas Christmas in the memo. 

Thank you for all of your love and support! Thank you for helping to make a difference with these children and families! Thank you for helping us make this Christmas the best one ever! 

He Cried, I Laughed!

Some days I am surprised by the harsh, cold, rude creature of a man that accompanies me through life.

On the days that I cry and break down saying "I just can't do this anymore!"or "I want to give up! Another one wants to run!" or "The judge ruled in favor of the drunk uncle that is only going to sell

her, why did I waste my time fighting!?!"

The days my heart breaks watching a child walk out the door. The days when I am gripped by fear of the unknown for the precious one that I can no longer control the safety or influence over their little life. The day that one of the girls I love most, changes her mind and bolts, shoving in my face every sacrifice that was ever made... Those days, I question. I cry. Those days, he laughs. He pushes me forward. He smacks me in the head until it is screwed back on straight.

He is really warm and kind. As warm and kind as an angry gorilla! He has ice around his heart and just stays focussed on his list of tasks. He stays away from relational connection and he doesn't have to worry about the attachment to any of our kids. Right?

Apparently, down inside, it was all bothering him too! I told him that I still have a couple kids that hung on my leg as I tried to drive away. Why? Not for me, FOR HIM! "Llevame!!! Por fa!" (Take me, please!) Just for an hour, cried one. "It can be five minutes and we can come right back!" Yelled out another fighting to touch my skin, hoping they could then clasp on. In a conversation I was trying to push my angry gorilla to come out again for a couple days. "Just leave the clinic and come stay a bit!" "No, Lauren! Someone has to work! I can't pay the lights right now." My hopes are always that he will say yes. Like a little girl pleading with her father to go inside the pet shop and look at all the puppies.

A few days later, I push the buttons again. "When do you think you can come out?" The usual reply is, "I don't know, when I don't have any patients scheduled." My thoughts? Well, that is never. You only have one day off a week and you don't want to have to make the drive, or not rest because then you are too exhausted to work afterwards. I never let my mouth babble this out, I try and hold it inside.

Then, on some random day, I get a message from my Angry Gorilla. He is currently a Sad Gorilla.  He knew we were battling the courts for some kids. He knew it didn't look like it was going well. "I just wish I could be the dad that they really need. The one they have never had. The one that can fix it. The
one that can show them the love of the Father." Sobs. He cried.

Guess that today it is my turn to laugh. I love that his hard shell is soft enough to crack. I love that in my human doubtful nature I have a partner that shares my pain and sorrow, but pushes through to the end with me.

For now, I laugh. (You are such a tough guy! LOL)

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!

Snagged...

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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!

Just Another Lump Of Clay

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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!

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.

I am with you!

My heart just melted a little more. A few of my kids have started to leave the "Mama Lauren" out of the equation. Mami is what is becoming the popular term. The first time I heard it from one of the older girls I thought it was a joke. It was always common among the younger kids, but not the teens. I was used to Mama Lauren. It didn't make me uncomfortable. People on the street said it down to most of our vendors. But Mami... It leaves more room for me to hurt and cause damage. It means more responsibility. It means I have to do more and be more. However, I just realized it is also a formal/permanent part of the family. Family is exactly what we are!

Today, a very precious and special friend lost her husband. As I began to feel helpless and useless because I am so far from her when she needs support the most I guess my countenance began to change. The kids started to notice something was different. One of them quickly became my shadow and grasped my hand following me every where I went. I was trying not to inform them of my thoughts at the moment. In my mind too much still needed to be completed and I did not have time for the distraction or emotional break downs.

Trying to continue to focus on life and the tedious tasks, I broke. A rush of memories came all at once. Thinking of road trips while we were still single. Making iced coffee and never getting
 it "just right". Sleepovers as young adults that involved almost no sleep before getting up to work. Giggle fests and pig outs on nasty food I will no longer touch with a stick. Tears shed from young teen memories, fears, and hurts. Boyfriends, weddings, husbands, children... Even though we are far apart now, the "friend" is never far away. I lost some tears and couldn't hold it back. I wiped them away and tried to move on, but was FEELING the pain and sorrow with my friend and her family.

Then I hear... 

"Mami, if you cry I am with you." 

IMPACT  

It began to flow out before I could think twice. As I began to share the details of my friends loss I found myself surrounded by the girls. One by one they found me and sat at my feet. They showed support and maturity as they began to pray for my friend and her children as they walk through the next chapter in their lives. They were standing in the gap for a woman that they have never met, but I assure you they see pieces of her all around down here. Feeling so helpless, but so blessed in this moment. Resting in knowing that He is there. I was reminded of Isaiah 41:10 as the Bible tells us He is with us. Genesis 28:15 and even in Acts. It is spread far and wide... He is there! 

It doesn't matter what we are facing. Fear, worry, loss, anger, hurt... The list goes on, but the promise is the same. He is there. In the midst of it all! Much like my kids holding my hand and walking through it all with me and just because it is important to me today. He won't leave or hide. He will stay and through it ALL, HE IS THERE! The BEST family we can have is found in Him! Better than a mom that clings to her newborn trying to protect it from harm, He is there.

Isaiah 41:10

So do not fear, for I am with you; do not be dismayed, for I am your God. I will strengthen you and help you; I will uphold you with my righteous right hand.