Breaking

Just a break

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

The Unspoken

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

What It Really Is...

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Is there anything better than that?

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!

Hurting... It surrounds me!

I could not help it. I was staring. Everything my mom tried to teach me as a child, it was OUT THE WINDOW! She was almost awkwardly tall as her legs doubled below her swing like she was trying to tuck them tight and gain speed. “Mom, how old do you think she is?” I just had to know. My mom shrugged. Insisting because that is something I am good at, “She is pretty old mom.” I turned back around to look for my son on the other side of the playground.

It was like a magnet drew her closer to me. She walked up and stood right in front of the bench we were sitting on. My mom and I glanced at each other as if to ask why, but never speaking a word. Then she began mumbling, “I’m not afraid any more. I’m not afraid any more. I’m not afraid any more.” I looked at my mom wanting to hit her arm so she would speak up and help this stranger out. We were on her territory. I was at home in the states. It was not my ministry location and I felt out of place. I stared at the girl again. “When I was little, in San Diego, I was kidnapped from a place like this.” Her voice sounded just like my niece who is six. “For two years my mom searched for me.” She began to tell her story. My heart began to ache. She had health issues. She had a tumor removed from her brain. She had a brother in a special home because he was sick. She was now forty-six. She looked a lot younger than that, not young, but younger. She threw her purse and cell phone down at our feet and ran off chanting, “I’m not afraid any more!” She was working on breakthrough. Once more, she began to swing.

“Mom, why do you think she is here? Is she alone? She said people were watching her, but the only person she pointed to was animal control.” Again, my mom shrugged whispering “who knows?”  The girl came back to pick up her stuff and received a phone call. She quickly skipped it happened as fast as she had come.

After walking to the car I began strapping Jayden into his car seat. I saw the pink shirt sitting off to the side. It was her. Sitting with a man. He was touching her. Talking with her. She was all smiles. I couldn’t help but wonder how many of them called her each day. If she even knew she didn't have to, or if her kidnapper had destroyed her. Maybe because of what I work with in Honduras. Maybe because I know the statistics in Central Florida. It broke my heart. “Mom, do you really think it is what it looks like?” A tear escaped and began to roll down my cheek. “Lauren, there are people hurting every where.”

I wanted to take her home. I wanted to show her how great life can be. I wanted to show her a true and pure love that is only found in Him. I could not. I don't live there any more. That, my blog reader, I leave in your hands. 

Not everyone is called to leave home and move to a foreign country. I know that! Some of you are senders, supporters, and advisers. Some of you are called to ministry at home. Some of you are the reason we can keep our doors open and continue to care for the orphans and abused here in Honduras. However, some of you have been watching for a while. Afraid to get involved. Afraid to make a commitment. Or maybe even on such a tight budget that you are afraid to donate $5 a month. If you are not committed to Open Doors will you do me a favor? Commit to something. Commit to someone. Tomorrow, as you go out and face the world look around. At work, as you drive, in the gym, maybe even at church. Set yourself aside for a moment and give to someone. Maybe not financially, but give love. Show grace. Brighten their day. You may be the only thing keeping them from having the worst day ever and giving up. Spread some love.

Value...

                                            Okay God, I will...

But Not TODAY!

                               Yes God, I will...

                                    Please, just not today!?           

Even if you don't want to admit to it, you and I both know you can relate. The tug to give. The urge to help. The nagging push to do something different. The intrusive shove to speak up and make a difference. In some way each one of us knows exactly what I am talking about.

For a while I have been avoiding the telling of a story. Why? Why do any of us do this? We are all human! We all need help! None of us are perfect. Yet there is still part of us that we try and hide. It just can't be seen by the public eye.

Not too long ago, I lost a baby. I tried to remain quiet. Miscarriages happen. Life goes on. It seems really common, what do I have to say that would make any difference. The loss happens. The pain endures. Physical, emotional, relational... There is junk to deal with. Junk that affects every area of life.

The cause? According to the doctor and according to Mr. Know It ALL, I mean Nilsson, it is my fault. Not that it is MY fault, but the lack of taking care of myself type of MY fault. You see part of the issue started after hauling 100 lb. sacks of rice with a nine year old. Why did I do this? Because there was nobody else around and if I didn't do it then it just wouldn't get done because we don't have the help here that we need. This lifting, even today, is causing problems. Because I didn't have the time to allow my body to heal properly I still am having major cramping. Which again, is MY fault. 

Aside from physical issues there are the emotional issues. The day it happened I didn't take the time to process it all. I walked away and continued working because I had things to get done. This only led to days followed by weeks of just focusing on working because there are jobs to complete. This isn't necessarily bad. However, I am secretly mad at my husband. Why? Because I am female and hormonal. Because he wasn't there to help me, hold me, love on me and say it was going to be okay. Because for him, it almost didn't happen. For him it was just a story I told him because he wasn't around to experience it with me. He never saw it. It is almost as though it isn't real. Not his fault, it is just a guy thing maybe. He is supportive, but wasn't that day in my opinion because he was not physically with me. Worse... He can't FIX it! Ouch! Some of you may be thinking "dumb girl".  Its okay, I think it about myself all the time. I know deep down inside he isn't supposed to fix it, but as a woman we want the man to fix everything, right?

My mother told my father who left secretly in the middle of the night driving on a dangerous road at 4 am and only to go bury the fetus. He made a little grave. This made me upset because he risked his safety to do this, but it also means the world to me. The burial disturbed me because I have never seen it with my own eyes and cannot find it. I only have this picture.

Nilsson is blaming the work I do, and resenting the ministry. He tells me I need to learn the word no. This is true. I am getting better, but I cannot fix the past. He gets upset because he sees how everybody just demands more from me and I am determined to save the world so I try to perform. The truth is people don't know the true cost of ministry.

I am trying to manage this...

Gates Of Hope	Casita #1	Casita #2	Casita #3
Tia Mirian	Tia Sandra	Tia Flor	Tia Nidia
Angi	Kyla	Mileny	Sandra
Eili	Sebastian	Edyn	Wilmer
Fabiola	Thomas	Carlos	Joel
Waleska	Josue	Engleis	Reina
Tania	Carlitos	Adan	Karla
Maryuri	Jonathon	Junior	Nicole
Amelia	Manuel	Jonathon	Katerine
Lorena	Blodimir	Yahir	Evie
Yami	Jona	Noe	Keylita
Eyeni	Briana	Mario	Wendy
Estefani	Alexandra		Fany
Esther			Jasmin
Nohemi			Brandi
Jose David
Saidi
Amalia Nohemy Amalia Joslyn Geovanny Esther

I have 59 people living on property that I am trying to manage. Each one with their individual issues, medical needs, disciplinary challenges, and school problems which is all handled WAY different from in the states. There are three kids that are coming during the day while their mom is undergoing medical treatment until school starts and they will be full-time. There is the random police drop off for temporary stays which seems to happen at least once a month. There are feeding stations, employees, families, and kids that all bring their own set of issues to the table. There are teams that come stay and work which is supposed to be a huge help and blessing, and is always amazing, but sucks up a LOT of my time and energy.

Today there was a lady that came knocking on my door at 8am asking what I was doing. I was a little annoyed because I had actually just walked into the bathroom. I was up until 3 am catching up on papers, searching for documents, and with a medical emergency from one of the casitas. I had to be up at 6 am to take four of our oldest girls to orientation because school has already started and now have to plead for mercy on their behalf because they don't have the uniform they need. I had to take Jayden with me at the last minute because we have an unreliable employee that didn't show up on time. My son still had not eaten breakfast and I was being called to a lumbar yard because there is no translator with the team. That quick trip to translate turned into me getting back to the house at 4:30 this afternoon and only getting about half of my urgent list completed for the day. I finally gave my son something more than a juice box, raisins, and cookies for the day and I get called back out of the room because of a new school issue with supplies that are needed tomorrow so I still haven't eaten all day. I also have no clothes to wear tomorrow because I have not been home nor had time for myself to wash them.

I have Americans ask really dumb questions like what I do all day. Then I take them with me for a day and they want to go back to their hotel room by 2 to take a nap or they call it quits at 5 and retreat. When they leave me, my day begins. I come home to girls that need counsel, love, affirmation, and the list goes on. I have tias that are giving everything they have to children that are coming from abuse and quit a few actually have mental retardation from lack of nutrition in early childhood. So my tias are drained and needing to suck some life out of me so they can keep giving like they do. I have security guards that get called to help be a driver and lawn man, oh and by the way can you go to the second feeding station and help because there is a problem with that stove.

I have had people ask what sponsorship covers for these kids implying the cost is expensive. $350 a month is nothing. Divide out what your home spends a month between housing, electric, food, water, private school, medical care, transportation. That is what we provide! Unfortunately I can't find another tia as dumb as me to work this hard for free so we have to pay our house moms and security guards. Our cost is SO much higher to care for these kids the way we really want to. They don't get to go out to the movies or out to dinner unless a team comes down and sponsors it. They don't have weekend get aways or family vacations. THEY SHOULD!

I guess maybe I needed to share what life is really like. The real cost and I do not mean financially. It is easy to send money and ease your conscience, but what about offering a hand? I need help. I have been inspired lately by a lady that cannot fulfill a need we have herself, but knew someone who could so she sponsored his trip. How perfect!! We can't keep doing all of this on our own. It took me some physical/emotional pain and loss to realize this, but I am going to learn from it. 

How long has He been telling you to do something, but today you don't want to, maybe tomorrow? How many times have you said wait? The timing is all wrong! If it doesn't cost you anything to get here than you aren't supposed to be here. If it looks like you could never do it. You never have the time. You never have the money. Then this is exactly where you need to be. Stop waiting. Yes God, but not today, isn't being obedient. He wants more! And it is going to cost you.

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!