Just Pray

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

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

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

I am sure any of us could be?

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

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

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

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




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



All that is left to do is pray!

What is Special. What is Need.

I stared out the window as my heart fell into pieces. I frantically began searching the car for food, water, and anything that I thought could fulfill a need. As my endearing husband passed me water that he took from my sister,  "Go do your thing Mother Theresa" were the only words he had to say.

He was maybe 18. It was obvious he had a case of Down's Syndrome. He was squatting beside the cart  outside of a gas station on one of the most trafficked boulevards in Honduras. I watched through the blur of my tears as he scooped water up from the mud puddle trying to get water into his little jug. As I walked over I called out to him. No response. I stood beside him speaking to him and still, no response. Finally, I squatted down and held out the water bottle. He took it. He said nothing. He responded to nothing. I realized he wasn't only mute, but deaf too.

I returned to the car and asked for some shoes. There were none. I walked to the trunk and pulled out a pair of mine, girly or not at least he has something for his feet. As I neared him this time he saw my shadow coming and stood up. I reached out with shoes and told them they were his. He went to the other side of his wood cart and leaned on it as he began to squeeze water from his jeans and clean off his feet.

We were leaving. I wanted to stay and observe a while, but we didn't have the time. As we drove away I watched as he sat up in the cart struggling to put on his new shoes. My heart ached. Where is his family? Where is his help? A child with Down's can grow into a functioning adult. This boy still needed a guardian and someone to teach him and allow him to blossom.

Later the next day as night fell upon the city we drove by the same gas station. He was there. Laying in his cart. Another piece of my heart fell.

For years we have had hearts to open a home for special needs children. People believe it isn't needed here. This country doesn't know what a special needs child is, means, or needs. I have a friend that moved back to Honduras from Arizona that worked with these kids. It was her major. Here she is just considered a nurse. Her heart is for more, but she is stuck living in a community of people that just don't get it.

I get it. I want to help too. We lack the funding. We lack the location. We lack the support.

There is a need. It is a special need. It requires a special heart of a special person to reach out and meet it.

Are you the one? Do you know someone that is? Please help us continue to reach lives. They all matter!

Open Door Ministries

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!

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!

L.O.V.E.

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

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

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

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

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

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

Sometimes I lack for a response.

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

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

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

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

Not MY cup!

Let me start by saying...

MERRY CHRISTMAS!!!
A bit late.

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

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

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

Then...

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Give Him a chance,  let Him fill your cup!

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

Clone Me, PLEASE!

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

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

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

 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Cheesin'

Before you begin to read this booklet that I am writing, GO GET SOME CHEESE! No... Really! Go get it!  I am bringing the whine! It has been a month since I was last in touch with the world. We have a lot of CRAP to catch up on. Literally, well... sort of. 

 

 

Where to begin? The beginning of September we had a small team. With this team I met a wonderful new friend who convinced me to join her church the following week. They were doing a medical brigade in Copan. If you know me at all, this took no work on her part. I love evangelism. I love medical out reach. This is right up my alley! It is why I even fell in love with this country! AND... Of course, I had to invite along the best dentist (my sometimes better half) in the world. Why? Because I can't leave him behind while I have all the fun. Or maybe it is because I love watching him cringe as we send in one last patient to pull an additional 7 teeth when he thought he was done for the day! ;) Really, it is because I love doing ministry with him. I love watching God move. I love serving together. And I love him! This just presented one minor problem, what do we do with the kid!?!  Oh, quick fix! Send him home with Mimi! That was easy. She left the day before the brigade began! I was a free woman! Almost! 

 

It was a wonderful week. We had the best weather! We saw so many conversions and got to plug people into COMMUNITY! And we didn't just meet the spiritual needs. We met the physical needs too! We saw between 700 and 1,100 people each day! IT WAS INCREDIBLE! My heart was full! I was getting rejuvinated. Partially because I didn't have to be a mom, but part because I was able to be a part of what I love! Minus the waking up at 5am each morning. 8 days away from Jayden flew by so quickly! I left the team to catch a 1 am flight back to the USA so I could get my little dude. I DECIDED, Nilsson needed to come along. His birthday was the day I was leaving and I didn't want to see him alone. Not to mention, he missed the Jaydi boy too! He already had a ticket that he hadn't used so we just needed to change the dates. It was going to be a wonderful 2 week vacation / babysitting. (My family needed a live-in to make sure my 15 year old brother didn't blow up the house, and still got to school each day while they went to a conference.) It was good. Nilsson left us early because he needed to get back to work. He had already missed way too much time in the clinic due to the brigade.  We said goodbye and I waited another 7 days until my family came back.

I find out the day before I am supposed to be going back home to Honduras that my e-ticket was one way, not round trip like I thought. Normally, I could care less. I would just enjoy more time with my family and try to see more friends that I never get to see. Not this time. I had to be back by the 6th of October because we only had temporary permission to have one of the ministry vehicles here. No big deal. We just have to drive across the border for 72 hours and come back with renewed permission. Upon return, we were going to try and pay the introduction so we could register the suburban. This was just the plan! We scrambled trying to find a cheap ticket for me to get back in time. As I am confirming plans to make sure Nilsson comes to pick us up at the airport I am hit with some crappy news.

1.) Dona Dora (The mother of Jaydens aunt) has colon cancer. It looks like they caught it in time, but she has to go in for emergency surgery. This woman is the sweetest most devoted christian/catholic I know. She is full of wisdom and patience. It isn't her I am worried about, but her kids and grandkids. They are the ones that would be most hurt. 

2.) This is the worst news. Nilsson has not been able to work since he returned. The air conditioner in his clinic went kurplunk. AND here is the BIGGIE... His compressor isn't shooting out enough pressure. It all looks fixable.  He thinks. Bad thing is unless someone needs teeth whitening or some wisdom teeth removed he is out of business. He is still waiting to see how the repair turns out. 

I buy my ticket hoping Nilsson will resolve his clinic mess in time to meet me so I do not have to cross the border alone. It just isn't safe. Or smart. Not that I think he would let me go alone. I just was hoping things would be fixed first.

 

I get into San Pedro and it is 10:30 am. Nilsson doesn't answer my calls. Jayden has fallen asleep in my arms. I have him and all our bags and I am pushing the luggage cart through the airport trying to come up with a plan. I sit in the mini-food court. I wait. I have now been waiting for 8 hours to use the rest room. I thought I would find relief here, but now Jayden is asleep! He tortured me through the flights, AND through the connection in Houston, and NOW HE SLEEPS! AGH!! I was angry that I got stuck next to some old fart that seemed to hate kids. I know Jayden isn't easy, but he can be really sweet. He is wild, demanding, and makes a lot of noise, but he also gives lots of hugs and kisses. Normally this happens right before or immediately after commiting a big NO-NO! He is only 16 months.  This vicious grand-dad didn't even want Jaydens blanket touching the arm rest. I actually hope he has no kids. If he does, they are pretty messed up people. I am sure of it.

As I am getting desperate, and thinking I need to pee my pants or leave all of my things and lay Jayden on top and pray nobody takes him, I see the airport janitor. I plead for her assistance. As I walk away in a hurry for the bano my phone jingles. Nilsson informs me he is still 3 hours away even if he was ready to come get us, which he is not. It was followed with, "so what are you going to do? Who is going to get you?" WHAT!?! I have the kid and I am just finding all of this out and you think I have some plan? Like I knew I needed a back up plan? I am dumbfounded, but don't really care because at the same time my bladder has found relief and is singing "HAa-LE-LU-JAH! HAaa-LE-LU-JAH!" I was distracted to say the least. The call dropped. I think I heard him say let me see if a friend can come get you. I don't care. I really didn't. I had food all around. Jayden was sleeping. And I got to pee! Life was good! Sort of... I walk out and I hand the girl 50 lempiras. She smiled and was grateful. This perked up her day and made her think I was her best friend. I was exhausted! I didn't want to talk, she did. Nilsson calls back, yes, he is sending his friend. I don't know if it is male, female, the name, what car to look for, nothing. He just decided this information was not important. But I will be picked up by 1. At least they can take me to the suburban! I didn't want to have to pay $30 for a taxi and have problems with luggage and trying to get the vehicle out of where it was stored, and worry about Jayden runnin around. I am at ease knowing that someone semi-familiar is going to help me. (NOTE: I have no clue who this person is, nor have I ever met them!) Two hours later Nilsson tells me to go outside and to walk towards the grey Toyota Yaris. Seriously, this is kind of freaky. What do I find? This cutely petite girl about my age. I am too ashamed to ask her name. She knows mine. She knows Jayden. And we talk like we have been friends for years. She was BELLA!!! (Beautiful) Inside and out. She watched Jayden while I manuevered the semi out from its position and loaded up the bags. We hug goodbye and talk about getting together for dinner when I am back and we both head out on our ways. I call Nilsson. Still not done. He is trying to catch a bus, but the next bus all the way to San Pedro is at 6. This puts us WAY behind on time. I start to spazz. He informs me of another bus that is going to Tela at 2:30. This sounds good to me, but... My phone dies. Totally dies. Not because of the battery. It had half of its life left. It just died because... who knows? I scramble. I was also talking to my dad about papers that needed scanned and emailed so I could cross the border and extend permission. I go to the closest phone store to see what I need. I enter in a frenzy trying to complete my conversations and trying to see what I need to do next. And I have to wait. And wait. And wait. This is common here. Employees like to play with phones and watch television while one co-worker tries to pacify all of the clients. I finally get someone to help me only because Jayden is screaming. I told him no he couldn't climb the shelves like a monkey. (It got me attention!) I ask for the cheapest phone that has a battery charge after he said it would be an over night and a minimum 600 lmp fee to look at my current phone. Five minutes later I am out the door making calls back to the states and looking to see what plan Superman has derived. He is on a bus already headed towards Tela and had the expectations I was going to drive 30 minutes back the opposite direction of where we need to head to pick him up. I am game because this still puts us back on track time wise to cross the border in time before the permission expires. We meet in Tela. He was waiting on me. I don't know how this happened, but I guess I made too many stops along the way trying to kill time. We head out towards Tegucigalpa. We got five minutes out of the city and the police stop us. Yep... Asking for money. What for? Some random project they are trying to complete. (You know, like eating dinner.) We give them 50 lmps and are back on the road. 30 minutes later, another police stop. Gah. This is INSANE!!! 100 lmps and we are on our way! Two hours later, another police stop. This guy has a handbook with the new road rules that he is trying to sell. We say we dont't have the 200 lmps that he is asking for. He asks for any help we can give. We come up with 60 lmps, and we drive off. We make itand are backam getting desperate, and thinking I need to pee my pants or leave all of my things and lay Jayden on top and pray nobody takes him, I see the airport janitor. I plead for her assistance. As I walk away in a hurry for the bano my phone jingles. Nilsson informs me he is still 3 hours away even if he was ready to come get us, which he is not. It was followed with, "so what are you going to do? Who is going to get you?" WHAT!?! I have the kid and I am just finding all of this out and you think I have some plan? Like I knew I needed a back up plan? I am dumbfounded, but don't really care because at the same time my bladder has found relief and is singing "HAa-LE-LU-JAH! HAaa-LE-LU-JAH!" I was distracted to say the least. The call dropped. I think I heard him say let me see if a friend can come get you. I don't care. I really didn't. I had food all around. Jayden was sleeping. And I got to pee! Life was good! Sort of... I walk out and I hand the girl 50 lempiras. She smiled and was grateful. This perked up her day and made her think I was her best friend. I was exhausted! I didn't want to talk, she did. Nilsson calls back, yes, he is sending his friend. I don't know if it is male, female, the name, what car to look for, nothing. He just decided this information was not important. But I will be picked up by 1. At least they can take me to the suburban! I didn't want to have to pay $30 for a taxi and have problems with luggage and trying to get the vehicle out of where it was stored, and worry about Jayden runnin around. I am at ease knowing that someone semi-familiar is going to help me. (NOTE: I have no clue who this person is, nor have I ever met them!) Two hours later Nilsson tells me to go outside and to walk towards the grey Toyota Yaris. Seriously, this is kind of freaky. What do I find? This cutely petite girl about my age. I am too ashamed to ask her name. She knows mine. She knows Jayden. And we talk like we have been friends for years. She was BELLA!!! (Beautiful) Inside and out. She watched Jayden while I manuevered the semi out from its position and loaded up the bags. We hug goodbye and talk about getting together for dinner when I am back and we both head out on our ways. I call Nilsson. Still not done. He is trying to catch a bus, but the next bus all the way to San Pedro is at 6. This puts us WAY behind on time. I start to spazz. He informs me of another bus that is going to Tela at 2:30. This sounds good to me, but... My phone dies. Totally dies. Not because of the battery. It had half of its life left. It just died because... who knows? I scramble. I was also talking to my dad about papers that needed scanned and emailed so I could cross the border and extend permission. I go to the closest phone store to see what I need. I enter in a frenzy trying to complete my conversations and trying to see what I need to do next. And I have to wait. And wait. And wait. This is common here. Employees like to play with phones and watch television while one co-worker tries to pacify all of the clients. I finally get someone to help me only because Jayden is screaming. I told him no he couldn't climb the shelves like a monkey. (It got me attention!) I ask for the cheapest phone that has a battery charge after he said it would be an over night and a minimum 600 lmp fee to look at my current phone. Five minutes later I am out the door making calls back to the states and looking to see what plan Superman has derived. He is on a bus already headed towards Tela and had the expectations I was going to drive 30 minutes back the opposite direction of where we need to head to pick him up. I am game because this still puts us back on track time wise to cross the border in time before the permission expires. We meet in Tela. He was waiting on me. I don't know how this happened, but I guess I made too many stops along the way trying to kill time. We head out towards Tegucigalpa. We got five minutes out of the city and the police stop us. Yep... Asking for money. What for? Some random project they are trying to complete. (You know, like eating dinner.) We give them 50 lmps and are back on the road. 30 minutes later, another police stop. Gah. This is INSANE!!! 100 lmps and we are on our way! Two hours later, another police stop. This guy has a handbook with the new road rules that he is trying to sell. We say we dont't have the 200 lmps that he is asking for. He asks for any help we can give. We come up with 60 lmps, and we drive off. We make itand are back on the road. 30 minutes later, another police stop. Gah. This is INSANE!!! 100 lmps and we are on our way! Two hours later, another police stop. This guy has a handbook with the new road rules that he is trying to sell. We say we dont't have the 200 lmps that he is asking for. He asks for any help we can give. We come up with 60 lmps, and we drive off. We make it to Tegucigalpa around 9 pm. It was a LONG day of travel. We visit with the grandparents and my eyes are shutting so I go to bed. Knowing we have to leave at the crack-of-dawn so we can cross the border before the permission expires, I pray I can get some sleep.

 

Friday morning, we scramble to load up and head out. We are focussed on our journey that lies ahead. We had no major problems with police stops. Just before we cross the border we are waved off to the side of the road. They have us get out. Unload the car. Look through everything. As one of the officers hands my passport back to me he tells me to be careful. He then says, "Don't let ANYONE process your papers for you in immigration. You do it ALONE!" I nod. I thank him. We load back up and head torwards the border. We pull up and I don't know where to go. Nothing is labeled. There is a mob of people inside a building.

There are people surrounding our vehicle. I get nervous. We park. I hop out. I immediately have people pulling on me and grabbing my arms. It is a shark feeding frenzy.My passport is ripped out of my hands. I spazz looking to find where Nilsson is hiding. I can't even make it over to his side of the car. I feel my face turning red with frustration, fear, and my blood pressure rising. I try and grab onto the back of Supermans shirt as he is walking off to find the shark that just took my papers. We move towards the middle of the building where the mob of people are all working/waiting on the same thing. The shark appears with my passport that is now stamped and his hand is out waiting for money. We tell him we need papers for the vehicle. We head towards a different office. We are then informed that El Salvador is considered a free border. We do not need any additional permission. AND... Our vehicle permission will not be renewed unless we enter through Guatamala. We are bummed. This means we have to cut through El Salvador into Guatamala, right? NOPE. Even upon re-entry through Guatamala nothing is going to be resolved. They no longer allow you to pay introduction at the borders, AND the VIN number is already in the transportation system with the value of the vehicle. A value that is way to high and means we have to pay $8,000 to import the car into this country. We walk out of the office scratching our heads trying to decide what this means.  "God, please tell me this trip wasn't made for nothing!"  Up walks shark boy. He takes us to a "friend". We explain to him that our permission is expiring the next morning. We explain that Honduras thinks the car is worth over $16,000 and that they want us to pay $8,000 in taxes just to register the vehicle here. He makes some calls. He tells us our option and for time, I will just tell you the best one. We go back to Tegucigalpa the next morning and submit papers in the main office to pay taxes and try to prove the "real" value of the vehicle. This is good. Now I just have to get my passport stamped so I can enter Honduras again. I never really left so this should be easy. NOT!!! I have a stamped passport that means I have to leave the country 72-hours. After shedding a few beads of sweat, a tear drop or two, watching the sun set, and losing $100 on the immigration offices desk I have a stamped passport and can enter Honduras!

 

Saturday morning ~ We wake up so we can head to Tegucigalpa. We sit in Aduana waiting for the chief to decide to see us to hear our plead. This never happens. Our papers are now officially expired. I feel screwed over, and we have to leave because they close at 12 today and we had no "official pending" business. My butt is grateful. I was tired of sitting on the floor. There are no seats. Nor is there an official waiting area. 

Monday ~ It is 8 am and we get to head to Aduana again! We sit and wait for three hours before we hear that the officials are in the office today to make sure that everything is operating as should be. This also means we are not a priority because the papers we want to submit are not official. Do not have any seals. It is more of a he says - she says battle. We get to wait. Just after lunch we are asked if we can located pictures of the salvage vehicle or get a copy of the salvage title. I call the states again. I will try to produce anything that I think will help me give them what they are looking for. I am informed that we have nothing. We continue to wait. I start to get concerned realizing how much work Nilsson is missing because the clinic keeps calling. This means patients go to a doctor "that cares." (You know, the guy that is sitting and waiting in their clinic.) I feel frustrated and scared. It is now 4:30 and the office is closing. They tell us to come back the next day.

Tuesday ~ Looks like another day is going to be spent sitting on the steps. It is 9 and nobody has spoken to us. Around 11:30 they ask me for a paper that they call a chiper document. I have no clue what this is, but I try to locate one. No such thing exists in the file. I ask what it looks like and where it comes from. It is issued at the border between Mexico and Texas. I call my dad. He begins making calls looking for this paper. It seems non-existent. We try and talk to one of the officials to make an agreement on the price of the car. She tells us that for an extra $500 on the side she will work with us. We have hope again. Today it is too late to process so we have to come back in the morning.

Wednesday ~ I am starting to worry. Nilsson has now been out of work for almost a month. His phone rings daily with patients he will not be able to attend to. We are stuck here working on papers and for what? I start to ask God why my family has to suffer and why my son has to pay because we are trying to be faithful in the little things. If we were a part of US Aid or World Vision they would have paid the $8,000 and not cared. We don't want to do this because we know how much can really be done with this money. I can't look at Nilsson. I see his frustration as he hangs up his phone from another patient. I put my head down while I try to hold back tears and send him the following text: "I am scared and frustrated. I see the sacrifice that you are making. It is appreciated. I don't know how it will ever be re-paid. I don't even know how we will pay the bills right now. All I know to do is pray."  My phone jingles, "lets pray then".  I feel someone playing with my hair, I look up and now have a tear rolling down my cheek. He laughs at me. I cry. It is all going to be okay. "God, this has to work out." One of the ladies walks out of the office. She decides to make an attempt to process the papers "as is" with our numbers. We think it is going through. The guy over her rejects it. We sit in silence waiting. For another $500 on the side we can get these papers pushed through and the vehicle can be registered. We agree. They continue to process. It is now too late to drive the car inside the gate so they can revise the information. We have to wait until tomorrow. The good news is... It is going to be processed!

 

Thursday ~ Today is the day. We will get the papers and be back on the road heading home in no time! Sort of... 10 am and we still have NO papers. The guy doesn't want to approve the file because he says there is no way that his boss could see the documents and agree with the approval. Crap. Now what? We wait. The two people being paid off argue back and forth. They discuss getting more money on the side. That seems to be the key. They take it. They sign off on the papers and we are good to go. It is only 3 pm when we finally have everything done. BUT... for 85,000 lps we got this vehicle registered! Thank God. The difference in pricing Nilsson could have paid with the work he just lost over the last week while we fought for a better price. God is going to have to restore it!

We have made progress! It is a relief. The only problem is the suburban is now just sitting in the drive way. We made it all the way home! No problems! The next morning when I went to go submit the registration papers to get the license plates it wouldn't start! Yep... We just paid all of that money to register a vehicle that we can't drive! It is the strangest thing. We tried jumping it. Nothing works. Just another trip to the mechanic... One day we will have NO car problems, right God?

I love living in this country, but these issues are almost too much to handle. You play by their rules. PERIOD! They have a law that makes no sense. You abide by the stupid law as written, or you pay people off. Both expensive, but one way is ALWAYS cheaper than the other. One way, although it may be wrong, is also the only "right" way. When the law asks for something insanely rediculous, what are you supposed to do? If both ways are wrong, which way is the right way? Do we just pack up, forget about the ministry and go home?

 

Oh, and I forgot to tell you. Nilsson thought the compressor was fixed right? His first morning back he went to drill a tooth and there was no pressure. NOT FIXED! More like, NOT FIXABLE! He now needs a new compressor. His air conditioning still isn't cooling and it is leaking water EVERYWHERE. Oh, and the office computer wouldn't turn on. My computer was cracked on the airplane. The LCD is split and I can't find a screen here to replace it.

Now everybody will know why we are not responding to you! Sorry guys! Pray for us!

It's Not?

“Unless someone like you cares a whole awful lot, nothing is going to get better. It’s not.” ~ Dr. Seuss

 I would like to believe that it is because "I care" about them that I stalk, rather frequently, other blogs of missionaries. People I follow are all around the world. Asia, Taiwan, Greece, China, Costa Rica, and yes... HONDURAS!!! There is a whole community of missionaries in this country, Honduras, that I secretely look upon. I wonder about what they are doing. If we can network. If they have an invention that I can use at the projects. If I can meet them and not feel judged. If I can get along with them without the suffocation of religion. The list goes on. As a fellow reader, YOU IDENTIFY! I am sure of it. The thing is, I am sure it is not because "I care" that I am an on-looker.

I feel threatened. Nervous. Scared. I am afraid to talk to a "gringo" that I see sometimes. My knees knock, my palms sweat, and I am afraid I will say the wrong thing. I pretty much always do. I answer the phone while I am yelling words that should probably not be whispered here, and then I see it is a fellow missionary, or worse... a Pastor.  My stomach just did a mini flip as I thought about the numerous times I have (without thinking first) said something offensive or ignorant. BUT hey! Im human!

Today I realized something, it is a really bad something. The same thing I am afraid they are going to do to me, I do to them. I get invited to a Bible study. I immediately begin to research the people to see their "views" on life. I ask mutual friends to dish the scoop. I want to know if it is okay for me to even introduce my kid, or worse... The Baby Daddy. If I bring them with me, what will be done that will make me turn red and hide behind a book with shame. Or what will I regret for the next six months every time I see them at the super market. It is nerve racking.

Yesterday I went for a ride with a friend. I showed her a local area that is stricken with poverty and has doubled, if not tripled, over the last year. As I drive, passing tarp and mud shacks held together with string, my heart aches. I have to fight tears as I watch a little boy play with an old wheel from a stroller tied to a long stick, and he plays with joy. I secretely am praying and screaming out to God to keep my baby from ever having to endure such a situation. I look further down the road and see a lady sitting on a metal chair frame. No cushion. No pad. Just a frame. "Thank you Father that I am able to sit on a chair." I drive a little further and see a home with three walls, not four. I think about the breeze they must feel each day and how nice that must be. Then I wonder if their baby cries at night when it is cold and raining because their is no protection from the down pours that we have experienced lately.  "Thank you Father, I have windows that close. I have doors. I have four walls of protection." Trying to avoid tears I quickly begin talking on some random, insignificant subject. Then it hits me. She cares. My friend cares. She is seeing what I see. She is feeling what I feel. She knows that these people need help too. She cares SO much that she is making a difference. She just sacrificed the last bit of her time to help us complete a vision that God gave us. She just poured her time and money into a project that isn't even hers. "Thank you Father!" 

Not everyone I meet will care to make a difference. Not everyone I meet will be as accepting as I am. Not everyone I meet will want to help other people. There are a few. A few can make a difference. I realize more each day, even if I am judged by the "others", it is okay. They are making a difference. They care. They are making things better. We all have our own way of going about it. Those other gringos... I am starting not to care so much how they "see" me.  Maybe we can make it better together. It is a whole lot easier, life is a whole lot happier, and things look a whole lot better when we stay focussed on the goal. I believe, we ALL have the same goal.

You can make it better. We can make it better! We Care!