Go Ye... Donde?

You remember the feeling you felt as you walked down the hall in high school for the first time? The way your hands and knees trembled. The feeling that ached in the pit of your stomach as you were called up front for something by the homeroom teacher. Of the uncomfortable and awkward stress that engulfed every inch of your being as you sat in the huge lunch room. For those that went to a small school, maybe it wasn't like that. It was easy for me to be a big fish in my small private school. The year I went from a school of 200 to 2,000, something changed. I became insecure. What is funny about that is the way that every single one of those 2,000 kids had those moments, but rarely was it spoken about.

As as adult... Maybe because of random experiences, I developed more of an I don't really care mentality. (Most of the time that is.) If you want to try and make me care then I find myself pushing myself away from you.

Explanation:

If you are a valued member of my life then I respect your thoughts and opinions. I will share information with you. If you are not one of these members and try to force your opinion on me I become cold or just neglect to value what I hear. There is nothing wrong with this. I ask for advice from those I respect. I do not give respect nor do I value advice from those who have not earned it.

That is normal.

Respect is earned. Respect is to be valued. Respect is not demanded or commanded. It takes playing a part in the lives of the people around you.

This is so true in leadership. A true leader will fight with you. A true leader pauses to see what the hold up is on their teams and evaluating resolutions and working through to the finish line together. Osea (Like), Leading by example.

I am often dumbfounded by the way visitors tend to give opinions and thoughts on missions never having lived on the mission field, or lived in Honduras, or worked with abused children. I sometimes start to feel the high school intimidation consuming my body, then I quickly remind myself that I am starting to act like a child again and push myself beyond that moment. The problem really isn't me here. How do I know this? Because the criticism would be followed up by assistance to accomplish the correction if the criticism actually came from a person of value (in the instance a leader). And a true leader or person of value would not try to make you feel nor desire for you to feel the awkward intimidation.

Everyone has felt that intimidation. All of us have experienced the awkward feeling of not measuring up and not having value. From the Class Clown to Mr. Popularity. The difference is how we react. Do we embrace reality and press in so we can move forward? Or do we give up and back away?

I am trying to teach my son to be a little like Simba and "laugh at the face of danger." In other words push through uncomfortable moments and recognize value in the people around him. This is hard. So much of the confidence he will one day have comes with time. It comes with maturity. There is part of him that recognizes when he is acting shy. He is learning. He now reports when he is feeling this way. Teaching him to press in, pass it to the side, and do what it is he came to do is complicated. Little by little, we can get there.

Telling him these things is great. It doesn't mean much though. Living by example, well...
The other day I had to run for a meeting. I tried on several outfits. I fixed my hair and face four times. (I didn't look any better than before I started.) Jayden asked me why I was being silly. I recognized that I had regressed all the way back to my childhood. I had to be honest. "Jayden, I think I am just uncomfortable because I know they will be pretty. They will be professional. They will be prepared." I was coming from cleaning up baby poop and dealing with high school problems because one of our kids isn't doing very well in math. I didn't feel like I could put on a different hat to go meet with an attorney in the moment. The funny thing is that the attorney was asking to meet me because they needed help with a case. It had nothing to do with something on my end it was them seeking something from me. Isn't it funny how quickly we get consumed and start to feel inferior?

I am recognizing more and more the importance of not just suggesting... Not just speaking... But actually being the example. It is one thing to have the ideas. It is another to take the time to implement them help change the action.

For every action there is an equal and opposite reaction. (Thank you Mr. Warren! This and your talk about absolute power follow me every where!)

If I want to cause a positive reaction, I have to create and be part of the positive action.

Whether it be in motivating my child to change or motivating staff to move in a different direction.  I can't expect an outcome if I am not willing to be part of the movement. What are you willing to invest to be part of the change? What is it that you don't like and why? How are you going to help change it? Words... they are just words. Change needs action! Action not hesitant because of intimidation.

In the last two years we have been surrounded by some really amazing churches. They may not have all the money in the world to help accomplish and change everything in the moment. BUT they have the hearts. Their people are full of love and compassion. They recognize the imperfection amongst all of us. They see our hearts are trying. Their pastors and staff have offered so much guidance and encouragement. They don't say "Hey! You guys have it all together!" NOPE!!!! They do say, "Keep going. You will get there! Keep growing!" Then they help us grow. One block and bag of cement at a time.  I learn so much about leadership by watching them lead. Watching their honesty. Hearing their stories. It is refreshing.

They have taught me that change needs action and it doesn't happen because you order it to. Unfortunately, Genesis has God resting on the 7th day and never saying that He empowered us to speak new change into being without actually becoming the change. In fact, I think when Jesus came into play it became more of an example than ever of the way we are supposed to be. Read that again. The way we are supposed to "BE." He is our example to follow. He became the change. Touching one life at a time. He didn't save everyone. He did save the few that He could. AND Other than demanding illness to leave and calling down miracles... where is there a story about Him commanding anybody into action? One exception, "GO YE!" He commanded us. Not some of us. He commanded all of us to take part in this change. High school intimidation step aside... Now Just GO! Take action! Be that change!

Scary? Yes, I know. One step in front of the other. Start now. Don't go buy that Starbucks! Stick that $5 aside to make a change some how, some way... You doing it. You sending someone to do it. Or you sending it to someone that is already doing it. You have the power. Start that mission or support that mission.

I, like many others, am running on very little sleep. I have a new born. She isn't mine. Can I be honest? I don't even want her. I am tired of raising kids. I know that nobody else seems to care for babies the way my momma would and it disgusts me so I sacrifice and keep her with me. I could just pay someone to be a nanny, but we don't have enough funding. I just had to turn away five kids last night. I can't take on any more kids. I am out of beds. I have two kids sleeping on the floor. I had to tell five kids between the ages of four and eleven that I could not take them home with me. I left them sleeping in the holding cell at the police station. I am trying to do all that I can to impact the lives of the kids that surround me. I need help. I need funds. I need people!

Are you hearing me? If you are supposed to be here helping... PLEASE COME!!! We need you!

I know that bills are forever showing up in the mail. I know that you probably already give to ten different charities, but if you can spare just and extra $5 a month... please give it! It doesn't have to be to ODM. There are plenty of people that are desperate for your assistance. Give more. Do more. Be a part of the change! Take some action!

GO YE!!

Dirty Little... Slut?

"Don't come home until you can bring me 500 Lempiras!"  I am sure that she was never told to sell herself. I am almost positive that she never wanted to offer her body to make the money. But I know that making that money in one day in this country doesn't happen very often. Unless, you are willing to work the streets! Every day the words, names, actions that surrounded her implied what she was to become. "You dirty little slut! You are worthless! You are good for nothing! I would rather be spliced with chicken wire than have to continue to look at your face! Don't you dare come home without that money."

I know that this week my own family is eating the basic rice and beans because we just haven't had the income. In a country where even with a college degree you are probably only going to make $600 a month. In a country where meat, gas, eggs, and milk are more expensive than where I lived in the States. In a country where the average income is only a few dollars a day. I can kind of "get it", you know? 

What if the label already ran in the family? Why wouldn't an hour of my time, no matter how miserable it was, be okay if it meant I had milk and bread for my kids? There are many that do it for free. Why is she more guilty? Because she received pay? Isn't sin, SIN? Who has the power to rate the degree of sin? When you speed? When you don't wear a seat belt?  Isn't it all breaking the law? How and who gets the priveledge of defining the level of offense? This has been my reply to my staff.

Forgive me now, this will probably be too much for you to handle. 

I have an employee that was/is a prostitute. And I will not fire her because of it. I am not capable.

For two years I have had the desire to work with prostitutes. I have longed to have donors designate funds for me to pay the girls for their time. Take them to dinner. Love on them. Be a friend. And send them home. Why? Because I know most of them are required to perform this way. They know without money in their pocket they will be beat. They know they will be gang raped on their way back home when their performance hasn't pleased El Jefe. They know their family will be hurt. They really don't have many options to escape their inevitable reality. Even if they don't want the red light outside their window the gang will just put it back up again tomorrow.

I believe she started for the same reason. I know that she was forced into some acts by family because of stories she has entrusted to me. I just never knew the depth. I never knew how recent. I never knew... Maybe I should have asked.

She is loyal. She is a hard worker. She is the most dependable worker we have. She is grateful. She is so grateful that she comes to me weekly with hugs and tears full of gratitude for the opportunity. On Easter Sunday she profusely thanked me for changing her life and allowing her to feel loved for the first time.

Frankly, I don't care what she was known for in her past. I know that she can have a future. I don't see her past choices affecting our kids. Actually, I see it helping her encourage them more in their studies and helping her to constantly remind them of their current opportunities. 

This wasn't my idea. I never planned on having a prostitute for hire help us with the ministry. Rahab married into one of the leading families in Israel. I can only imagine the judgement that came upon them. I would bet a million dollars her husband never dreamed he would one day marry the town whore. And the in-laws... I laugh as I think about dinner conversations as he suggests the idea and says "Mom, I'm gonna marry her anyway." What was God thinking as He allowed all of this to happen? Oh, you know, probably about how He could best accomplish His work because she was the willing servant that didn't give a crap about anything other than doing what she believed was right in her heart.

The balls it took for Rahab to betray her people. She was already an outcast. She was viewed as less than. She was probably disowned by her only family because of her lifestyle. She still stuck her neck out on the line for these "men of God". When you read the story and actually pay attention, she acknowledges that these men were sent "By the ONE true God." Imagine that. She chose, I mean the harlot decided, to help accomplish the will of God. Because of her heart to serve she married up! Not a little up... Big up! And check out the genealogy... The blood line that leads up to our Savior.

She is beautiful. She is valuable. She is worthy of second chances. She can bring a piece to the table that we are all missing. Help me love her! It is easy when I feel the need and can relate. It is easy, some of the time. In the midst of the ridicule... It is so hard. (I feel kind of skitzo because in my head it is more like this:  She is beautiful, slut. She is valuable to her pimp daddy. She is worthy of second chances to bring home more dough.) I want to cry as I write these thoughts. Whether flying through my head in a joking manner or not. It isn't fair. Not to her. Not to her family. Not to her kids. She is a treasure. Not because of who she can blow and how much dough she can bring home. She is a treasure because she, like me, is covered in the same blood. Her Savior, is mine. Her daddy, He is mine. He sees His daughter. His beautiful little girl. Worthy of nothing, yet she inherits EVERYTHING. She is the daughter of the same King. Her father, like mine, owns the cattle on a thousand hills. She is adopted into the family, forgiven of everything, crazy history wiped clean... I mean blank slate.                  She is beautiful.                 She is a princess.

So many times my part in the ministry has nothing to do with the kids at all. It is more about the staff. I need an open heart that is always willing to go the extra mile. Even if an entire town will judge you for it. I need the strength and stamina to continue pushing and pulling out staff in the right direction. Helping them heal and leading them to wholeness. I need the understanding so I don't join the rest as fingers are pointed and as judgement is cast down. Wisdom to say the right thing at the right time and that it would help to bring a calm in the midst of chaos. I need... To not care about the ugly truth of the past of any of them, but to continually see them as He does.

I didn't plan to save a prostitute. It just kind of happened. Now I have to not throw in the towel and quit on her like everyone else in her past...
Hey Val! I guess we finally started that side of the ministry. Ready or not. It just kind of happened! Help me!

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!

Hold On Tight...

It is a simple phrase. “Hold on tight, don’t let go.”  I say this phrase probably a hundred times a week.

“Kai hold on tight. You don’t want to fall off.” As I try and carry the bags and hope that my monkey child doesn’t loose her grip around my neck.

“Careful Jayden. Hold on tight until we get across the water.” As we cross the river that frequents our city streets this time of year. Once it is to my calves I typically decide to carry the kids across.

Driving down the road and the kids are hanging on the running boards of the truck. “Hold on tight Carlos, don’t let go.”

This phrase… I have heard it probably more frequently than I now say it.

As a little girl at the beach afraid the waves would pull me under I remember my dad saying “Hold on tight.”  Or as we speed across the rough waters in his boat I could barely hear him as he yelled, "Hold on tight!"

Parasailing with my little sister as we stared down out our miniature sized looking feet. I can still hear her “Hold on tight Lala, I don’t want to fall.”

And then there are the unspoken “Hold on tights”.  The day my brother passed away trying to remember his smell, his laugh, his smile, and the twinkle of his eyes. I remember thinking “Hold on tight Lauren, don’t let go of the memories.”

You know those moments of being overwhelmed. Feeling that you are in way over your head. A storm that is brewing and it is SO big and it is moving SO fast. You see it coming, but you see it only after you have been feeling the pressure and winds for weeks before hand. In those moments, “Hold on tight. Don’t let go.”

I don’t know if it is a don’t let go because something better is coming, or if it is a don’t let go because they still need you. Maybe it is a don’t let go because it is almost over. It will never make much sense to me and I will probably never understand it fully.

I am beginning to wonder if I have a sick desire for stress and extra pressure. Or maybe it is just that I am stupid enough to believe that I am resilient and invincible. This is all blended together by the fact that I STILL have not learned the word NO.

I mean, I know "NO". I say it all the time to a bunch of staff and to all my kids. No touching. No running. No screaming. No punching. No taking food off the table. No more leaving your things thrown all over. No standing on the furniture. No throwing rocks at the vehicles. No slamming doors. With all of these people around I can say the word NO!

I just haven’t learned to say No to the face of need.

I don’t know if it is because I am hearing, “It is okay. Don’t let go. Just hang on.” Or if I am imagining I hear it because it is etched into the tissues of my brain.

Last night we had a wind storm. No rain. Just wind. It knocked over the patio furniture and we thought our roof was being peeled back. This morning I went outside and it was a disaster. In front of our house is a HUGE Ceibon. This is a really large tree that grows huge here in Honduras. It is taller than a three story hotel that is close by. The tree was not touched. There were leaves all over the ground. A few sticks and twigs, but you know not one branch was on the ground. There wasn’t anything on the ground larger than my forearm.  Furniture knocked over, a solid table flipped sideways, my door flung open, and not one branch on the ground.

“Hold on tight.”

That was all that was said. I stared at the trees with the beauty of the mountains in the background. All I can hear is “Hold on tight!” It is spinning and flying in my head as fast as the winds of a tornado. Unscathed.

I don’t know who I am writing for. I know that I felt the need to share it. You will come out of this. “ ’Hold on tight. Don’t let go!”  The leaves will fall to the ground around you, but your roots grow deep. You are strong. You won’t bend or break. I have placed you in this very place at this very time. Do not think for a second it was all in vane. Did you hear me? I called you to trust me. When I said, Come Follow Me. It meant FOLLOW ME. Don’t hesitate to continue down the path even through the darkness. Do not look at the dark monstrous shadows that surround you. Come follow me. Listen to my voice and continue down the path. You are built to withstand this storm. ‘Don’t let go!’ ”

Don’t let go of His plan. Don’t let go of that dream. Don’t let go of the promise. Find His voice. It is gentle. It is constant. It is calming. It brings peace. It is full of wisdom. It is. He is. He will. He did. And He does. 

Hold on tight.

The Rains Came Down

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

And the rains came down. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Tents are luxurious!

"Mom? I'm hungry." I was frustrated. I didn't have time for the extra distractions. "You just had lunch at school." 

A few hours pass. 

I see him asleep in the back seat of the car. Trying to wake him up he grabbed at his stomach. "Jayden, you have to go to practice. Hurry up!" For the next two hours I see him randomly pull at his stomach. After practice he asked for a snack. "No, we will have dinner as soon as it is ready." 

We were sitting at the table and he inhaled his plate and asked for more before I could blink. "Jayden, what's up dude?" "I told you I was hungry!" Scratching my head I imagined he was ready to grow some more. 

The next day on the way to school he points out a classmate. "That is who I give my lunch too." "What do you mean give your lunch? You eat your lunch. It is for YOU!"  "Mom he doesn't have money to buy food and his mom doesn't send him anything."

Epic fail as a mom. I sit and reprimand and don't ask the right questions. His compassion shines through everywhere he goes. He loves, helps, shares. And I forget. Sometimes I get cold and numb to what is around me. I get tired of the garbage pickers going through my trash and dumping crap all over the front of the house before the truck comes by. I get tired of there always being someone next to me and in front of me that is need. I have gotten so exhausted that I have started to become cold. I need my blinders removed.

Sometimes I give so much, so hard, and for so long that I forget to give back to me. If I give back to me and take a few minutes I am not as toxic and cold. And maybe I will start to ask the right questions. 

For instance. Maybe there is a problem with migration for more reasons than danger. Starting with the lack of education and poverty. What would you do and where would you go if you never had food for your child? Imagine for a minute a shack with walls made from sheets and a roof made from a tarp. You may call it camping, but your tent is way to nice for what I am talking about. What if your only pot had a hole in it. Your kitchen spoon was a stick and your stove was an open fire under the rain drops. No refrigerator. No cabinets and pantry full of boxed/canned goods. You had to make what you found around you in the garden or what you could aford to buy for your family after earning your wage of less than $2 for your whole days work. How are you going to feed your family? What will you do as you stare at your child gripping his gut because he hasn't eaten in two days? That my friends is the reality of where we live. 

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!!!