Labeled

I am writing this on such a personal level, I don't want to post it. I know so many people will read this that follow the ministry and will probably over analyze the words written. But I have decided I don't care.

I am writing this for myself, for my true friends, and for those that consider themselves my family. If you are not in that category you may want to stop and close out this page NOW.

I have been labeled. You have been labeled. We have all been labeled. And I find it repulsive.

One of my girls doesn't want to go to school any longer because she is 16 and has a 4 year old daughter. Kids at school make fun of her. She is labeled with "run around," "prostitute", "easy". Nobody thought to ask if she was raped or abused. I don't know of any little girls that want to be thrown into an abandoned building as they walk home from school and taken advantage of. But the outcome is a beautiful little girl. A life we rejoice in. She has an excellent Father from above who has provided for her and her mom. And no label applies here. I am proud of her mom for persevering and marching forward in life to try and improve her future. She is doing great and deserves to be lifted up and showered in words of praise.

I am divorced. I am fat. I am ugly. I am mean. I am spoiled. I am selfish. I am judgemental. I am...
You name it and I have probably been called it. Even the Queen B which probably does apply more often than anything else. A few apply, but NONE define. A few don't come close to applying and definitely don't even exist in my world. It doesn't matter. The label was placed. The words were spoken. The harm was caused. The hurt is now cured. The scar on my heart, however, I will forever feel.

I just listened to a lady cry as she was pushed out of her church because she is walking through the storm of her life. She is getting a divorce. How awful, right? I mean how horrible that she isn't just the submissive woman we were all called to be? What is wrong with her? Why doesn't she just shut up and hunker down? God hates divorce.

Oh... wait... I AM DIVORCED. I forgot what I wrote just a few sentences ago.

I don't believe divorce is an option! For some, it becomes necessary.

I don't have to write a list of excuses. Bottom line, from day one I knew it wasn't right and I couldn't let my joy be sucked dry any longer. No fault on anybody except for me. I said yes. I thought I knew what I was doing. I made the mistake. Then I wanted out. I regret none of it. I learned a lot. I am thankful all parties have moved on. I love my ex on some level and I always will want the best, but the bottom line is it wasn't for me. A lot of damage was done along the way. It created a lot more labels.

Our whole world is designed around labeling people. You go to get a new license and they want to know if you are married, single, divorced, or separated. You fill out a passport application and they ask for your race.

What does it really matter?

Labeling is so extreme that my four year old son was afraid to come home and tell us about a new friend because of their color of skin. "Jayden, did you think I would be mad because they were darker?"  "Not you mom, but Rolando's dad doesn't let them play together so I thought daddy would be mad too." For centuries people have been labeled because of their race or their religion.

Why are we afraid of something that looks, feels, or sounds a little different?   Jesus sat and laughed and enjoyed life amongst the oddballs, the uglies, the fatties, and even the town ho.

What is our problem?

A recent hire failed to show up to work. When I called to find out why I was told that her father said no. I asked for more information. "He is a pastor and he knows you are friends with the family that owns __________", a local restaurant. Really??

We are so blinded by these labels that we let it decide our life path on a daily basis. At what point do you stop it? At what point do we decide to love and support the people around us regardless? Not because it is easy, but because it is what we are told to do.

He didn't come for the safe and healthy people. He came for the sick and needy. He is a healer of all areas. Not just referring to diseases. He overlooks the imperfections and sees something better down within. He took the time to notice and care everything about you and me, but not them? Could that possibly be true?

It hurts when I look at the damage the church has created. "I didn't think you would like me or talk to me. Why do you listen so much?"  I can't help, but ask why I wouldn't? It is part of the commandment. He didn't send us out to judge and persecute people into righteousness. He sent us to exemplify His love and in turn winning them into the Kingdom. "I am here to help. Judging isn't going to help you, but I can love you and pray that He does the rest."  That is the only reply I had for a new friend full of questions after being shunned by the "Godly".

I think Honduras needs a church for screw ups because the only places around here with crosses require perfection to gain membership or rosary beads. I really don't know anybody that fits into the category labeled perfect, but I can show you some buildings that seem to think they are full of them. The weak, the hurting, the hungry are all around, but they aren't inside the walls they need the most.

Do something different to love them and change them. It starts with you and me. Because I am ________, but it doesn't matter. It was all erased because I am His!!!

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!

Thats My Daddy!

I have been randomly known to bring home pet projects. Last night, I remembered it is something I get from my dad.

My dad used to let the homeless stay at our house. Our garage had a room off to the side that they would make a bed up in, they had their own bathroom with a shower. I felt awkward at times walking into the house if there was a random guy outside. I remember my dad being so giving and helpful. He would put them to work, he took them to job sites, and in the end the money was typically used for booze. Addiction sucks the life out of them. There was one guy in particular that had stayed with us for months. Dad made sure he had a bicycle. He had given him jobs, and the guy found some side work on his own. He would come and go. He was even found at church from time to time. He was able to enter through a side door and was free to be on his own. He lived with us for a couple months then one day he disappeared. A little while later he was back asking for help. He would disappear again. He would be back. One night, my dad had a strange phone call. The guy had been hit by a train. It was sad, but I never really built a relationship with him. I didn't really care. A little while later my dad was cleaning out the room, throwing things in the garbage. How sad? A guy with no real family, shut off from society, never truly able to overcome addiction.

I don't know if my dad did this to ease his conscience. I never asked if my mom really wanted to help or if it made her uneasy. It doesn't really matter. Sometimes what we do in the flesh makes us uncomfortable. Every now and then we just have to do it anyways.

My dad can be described as many things. Some think he is rough, mean, aggressive, cold. (Typically only seen if you have to work with him!) Others think he is giving, warm, self-sacrificial, loving. One word, patience, it doesn't really describe him. The rest all fit depending on the situation.

Dad is selfless. He has been known to give away cars, computers, free re-models and repairs. He is the first to try and provide for the needs of those that need it most. He has a soft spot for widows. He is the hardest worker I know. He will bend over backwards to make you happy even if it puts his back out of place.

He is not the type of teacher you want in a classroom. He is a teacher by lifestyle. One to model your actions after. Why? Because he gets something...

Temporary discomfort brings Heavenly Rewards!!!

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?