He Cried, I Laughed!

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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!!!

Its Easy! Yet Hard!

Happy Thanksgiving! I know this is delayed. I was trying not to write. I didn't want to hurt any feelings.

Last Thursday was awkward. I was greeted by family that I love, but feel so different from. I was hugged and felt warmth, but still a frigid coolness that creeped over. I got to stuff my face with food that I no longer desire to eat. There was so much that it made me sick. I still had a bite of EVERYTHING, don't worry. I was surrounded by people that may be a part of me, we share blood, but don't have a clue what life is really like. They don't comprehend what it is really all about.

I was asked questions that were ridiculously insane.  "How is life down there?" "So what do you really do?" "What is it like?" "You love it, don't ya?" "How do you walk in those shoes?" "You must love living there, its so easy, right?"

My own family... They have no clue. I think I want it to stay that way. At the same time, it breaks my heart!

To those that know me from the work you have seen in Honduras, you know nothing about my secret desires of the past.

Growing up with a house too big too clean, swimming pool, spa, a foyer that was larger than my current bedroom, vehicles that only had the name exotic or luxury attached, a garage that is the size of our little home we now rent, a private driveway that was longer than the length of our current neighborhood, a personal bathroom that had two sinks and extended counter-tops so I never had to share. The screen room to the pool was larger than the average home. And everything around was decorated like a magazine, even the yard. Dad had the landscape guy change the flowers according to the season. Resort style. I was the girl that never walked out of the house without heels, make-up, and my hair sprayed rock hard. The girl that was well traveled. The girl that never hosted the parties for fear of what they would all say after being on the inside.

I was called the spoiled brat and I was referred to as the snob. Not just by friends, some cousins too. I once got into a dispute with a friend at school because a girl called me a rich snob. That week my dad had sold one of the cars so he could pay some bills. We were blessed. We were above blessed. But I also knew what it meant to make sacrifices. And sometimes you had to down size and decrease spending to maintain the good life. As much as we had materially, dad taught us Kingdom responsibility. Well into my twenties I worked the material things. I kept a pretty good life on my own. If I desired it, I had it. I realize now what I wanted and achieved then, is what people into their 50's still are hoping to attain, one day...

That was then!

Because my then is the only way my family sees me, they don't come close being able to comprehend my now.

Mattress made of cardboard setting on the floor.
No Air Conditioning
A shower that is a bucket of cold water and a cup used to pour it over my head.
Most days my dishes are done in the same way.
Laundry that is done by hand.
An old TV that is the size of my head
Cars that are at the mechanics once a month. One of them spending more time in the shop than running.
No closets
No furniture other than the crummy living room set and dining room set that the termites are eating. (Its okay, they are nothing pretty or spectacular.)
I work longer hours than a private business owner and for no pay.
I have a family that says I have time to raise everyone else in the world except my own blood.
I have heated conversations with my husband over the mold, rat poop, and dust all over the house. (I'm allergic to dust mites and animals and it causes an instant headache upon entry.) These conversations end in me crying once I realize how little time I spend at home and finally acknowledge my unavailability to clean for my family like a normal woman.
I have a child that is supposed to start school next year. (Public school goes to middle school and the kids come out ignorant and unstimulated! Private School option only, but yea... I no longer hold a real job.)
I get to see my entire family? NEVER   When I am home someone is always gone and I get to work on some newsletter, financial statement, or some random office project.
My last vacation was in 2005.
I spend my days being pulled in three hundred different directions because each child or worker has something urgent.
I have no time for me.
When I stay at the home for the kids I am up until 2am and back up at 5:30 so I can try and "get it all done".
I get to deal with Religious Legalism that tries to make every child conform to their law or they go to hell. (This leaves me with hours trying to comfort a girl that she is not going to hell because of the music playing on the street or at school.)
Then the language/cultural barrier that I am still trying to comprehend in SO many ways.
I am the only full timer I know that has no support or mission backing, no income, and no maid.
(House workers are common because of the intense work required to maintain the lifestyle and long hours required when working a ministry.)


There you have it.  I now live with the poorest of the world, not just amongst them. I live just like them. The orphans in our home eat better than we do on most days. They have better furniture. A better built home. A better water system.

But there is something in me that I have no matter how I choose to live my life. I have joy. It wasn't found in my black onyx travertine marble or granite beauties that surrounded my home. It wasn't found in the cars or luxurious items that I could find at my dads growing up. It wasn't found in the unforgettable vacations. But this is stuff that not even my family fully comprehends. It is fine to build a beautiful life. I won't lie. I miss driving my Lexus. I am pretty sure Nilsson misses his Mercedes. Nice things are fun and sometimes very worth the money. I am not currently a lover of Kia or Chevy. I would like to try at Nissan and Ford, or so I think. There are days when I miss going out every night of the week because I didn't feel like making dinner. I don't really know how to get you to understand how I live unless you come and see it. If you knew my before, you still won't believe it.

A couple months ago a missionary made a comment about me being the LAST girl she would have thought was going to move to Honduras. I stayed at her home when I was fourteen, I believe. That was from a missionary. Lol. What did I do? What was so wrong with me?

In May, a friend from school came to Honduras. I knew him since I was about ten. He rubbed his head one day saying out of everyone in school I was the least likely to end up here in Honduras. Why? What was it?

Just because of how life was lived?

These comments make me laugh. God calls. We just have to answer. For a while I may have been caught up in the newest Prada find (which I just found in a box and want to sell if you are looking!) I may have been distracted by the pretties that surrounded me. I liked to go to the store and find new home decor year round. It wasn't that I didn't hear Him, I just liked to distract myself from the burden I now feel so intensely.

My family, they will never fully get it. A couple will, but not all of them. Why would I give up the best in the world and choose to take the worst?

I think when Jesus died on the Cross that was exactly what he was doing. He gave up the best. He was born like you and I. He came to save the world, nothing else. He didn't have to. He did it anyway. He set an example for us to follow. I don't want to be a martyr. I pray the blood over me and my family. I plead for His protection. I follow His lead. I love the least of these. I caress the dirty, smelly, rotten of man kind. I live amongst them. I pray that my life, my love, my joy will flow out of me and onto them. I pray that they catch a glimpse of the love of the Savior and they grasp onto Him. I pray they learn the true treasures in life. I pray that a difference is made with the love and support that is provided when all they have ever known is rejection, hurt, lack. But I am willing to do what He wants me to do.

Not everyone will get that. It is far from easy. This life is the hardest I have ever lived. Most days I hate it. I hate not being able to fix the world. It sounds cliche, but I desire World Peace. I desire to heal the hurts and sorrows and provide a brighter future to those that have nothing, no one, and no way.

You aren't helping them, so I guess I have to. I don't say that with bitterness. So few are helping. I know! I was one of them! I was worried about housing upgrades and kicked myself for not getting that Bentley. Life is about SO much more. It is so easy. It is hard to let go. Relying on Him takes FAITH! With time and practice, it gets SO easy! Here or there, what are you going to do? What will you risk? Will you answer Him? Will you accept the challenge and step out in Faith? Someone needs you. Near or far. Someone is in need. Are you willing to be His hands and His feet? Your family may not understand. It doesn't matter. You know in your heart. He is calling!

Snagged...

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

The Unspoken

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Stubbornly Helpless!

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

This is becoming more and more real every day.

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

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

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

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?